“You can’t do it, boy. Your pony’s beat out, and so are you. Come right in. Willie’ll go on to San Felipe, and we’ll tend to the river folks soon as it’s light enough to travel the trails. You come in. You’ve done your stint. When did you leave?”
“This noon.”
“Well, your pony acts it,” said Mrs. Burnam. “He’s surely tuckered.”
Ernest stiffly swung from his drooping horse. Mrs. Burnam already was running for the house; and with a grateful slap on Duke’s steaming neck he followed. The family was awake. By the candle light Will, the oldest boy, met his mother and stared at Ernest. From their beds in the loft the other children called excitedly.
“Will!” exclaimed Mrs. Burnam. “This boy’s from Gonzales. The Mexicans want their cannon and are going to try and take it. Saddle Dandy as quick as ever you can and ride on to San Felipe. Tell ’em to send all the men they’ve got. We’ll tend to up-river and down-river. Captain Caldwell’s gone to Mina, the boy says, and I reckon word’ll travel on to San Felipe, but maybe you can get there first.”
This was a frontier household and accustomed to act quickly without question. For his boots and trousers rushed Will, and dashed out of the door. Within a minute, it seemed, the clatter of his horse’s hoofs echoed as he raced away for the ford. The babble of voices from the children in the loft sounded still more excitedly.
“Sit, sit,” bade Mrs. Burnam, to Ernest. “I’ll put up your horse and then get you a snack.”
“No, I’ll put him up, thank you,” answered Ernest. “He ought to be rubbed down.”
“You’re right,” she approved. “You’ll find an empty stall in the shed. I’ll show you the way and keep the dogs off.” Together they led the wearily stumbling Duke to the shed; the dogs, now more friendly, sniffing at Ernest’s heels. “After you’ve rubbed him down a bit you can throw him an armful of hay from the stack yonder. Wouldn’t give him much water till he’s breathed a while. I’ll be getting your snack.” And Mrs. Burnam bustled back to the house.
Ernest rubbed Duke well with a bunch of straw; and when he came in, a snack of milk and cold corn-bread was waiting for him by the candle light. The other Burnam children had turned out of bed, to cluster around the table and gaze and listen while he answered the good Mrs. Burnam’s numerous questions.