“Reckon that’s so,” responded Jim. “But he’d better get out of here mighty quick. We mean business. Zeke Williams will go after him for stealing those water-melons! That crop means money.”
“Bill Smithers is with ’em. Did you know that?” demanding Ernest. “He’s a Gonzales man, and they’ve caught him and are holding him.”
“So I hear tell,” answered Jim. “That won’t cut much figure. We’ve still got their corporal and several other soldiers.”
The opinion in town was, that the lieutenant had camped either to await reinforcements from his colonel, or to cross the river by the ford above the Williams place, and come down on Gonzales from the north through the timber and the prairie strip. This of course would never do.
“You boys both ready?” queried Dick Carroll, strolling by Jim and Ernest, late in the afternoon. “There’ll be something stirring before dark, so I thought I’d warn you. Looks like we’d get over on the lieutenant’s side, an’ pay him a call.”
“We’re ready,” they assured. And——
“Ginger! Wish I had more powder,” remarked Jim, to Ernest. “How many loads you got?”
“Ten,” replied Ernest, dubiously. “Hope that’ll be enough. I’ll give you one if you run short.”
“Your bullets don’t fit my gun, though,” reminded Jim. “Maybe I can double patch ’em. But I guess powder alone will fill the bill. It’ll make a noise. Just to hear a gun go off scares those hombres [men] into fits.”
Evidently Jim did not think much of the Mexican soldiery. Neither did most of the other volunteers. Still, the camp of Lieutenant Castañeda, on Zeke Williams’s farm, was known to be a strong position, well chosen; and the dragoons were regulars of the Mexican army, thoroughly equipped with muskets and pistols.