“Well, I declare!” she uttered. “Likely to attack Gonzales, are they? We-all thought you-all at Gonzales were friendly with Bejar. ’Pears like you didn’t want to take part in any of these other uprisings. Goodness mercy! This means war, and hard times in Texas, but we’ve got to defend our rights. Now, you go straight to bed, and don’t you bother. There’s a shake-down in the corner, where you won’t be disturbed. First thing in the morning, soon as it’s light, I’ll send word to Hill’s and Moore’s and down to Beason’s. You rest yourself and your pony. I reckon you’ll be wanting to start back with the first crowd. You couldn’t follow those trails to-night, anyhow.”
This sounded sensible, and Ernest rather gladly went to bed on his shake-down. At any rate, the word was being carried to San Felipe. And in the gray of the morning he was drowsily conscious that two of the other children had galloped out of the yard. Bareback, with rope bridles, they had been dispatched, one south twelve miles to Beason’s Crossing (a place similar to Burnam’s), the other to the Hill place, and Moore’s Retreat further north. This left not a horse, except his yellow pony; for the Burnams were by no means wealthy, yet, in horses.
However, the children returned triumphant in the middle morning; but already had the first of the alarmed settlers arrived, from across the river. Will, on his way to San Felipe, had informed them. Then, hour by hour, more reinforcements came in, by twos and threes; from Beason’s (still known as such, although Mr. Beason himself had been killed by the Indians several years before) and vicinity, down the river, and from the ranches up the river. Young James Monroe Hill was among the earliest, and him Ernest was much pleased to see. They shook hands.
“Pap’s coming, too, when he can,” announced Jim. “But he may cut through direct. What are we going to do? Fight?”
“I guess we are,” assured Ernest.
“Who’s in command there now?” demanded Jim.
“Captain Albert Martin, I reckon,” answered Ernest.
“Well, I bet no Mexicans will take any cannon away from Captain Martin,” asserted Jim. “Not if there are any Americans in Texas! Shucks! Why don’t we go, I wonder. We’ve got enough here now to lick the whole Mexican army.”
That scarcely was true. However, the number was slowly swelling, as settlers continued to arrive—all with their muskets, shot-guns, and long Kentucky and Mississippi rifles, their powder-horns and bullet-pouches; many ahorse, but some afoot, for in Texas even, where horses were cheap, not every man possessed one.