“Didn’t you ever see Sam Houston?” asked Ernest.
“Naw, I never did. I hear tell he’s a politician who’s come into East Texas hoping to get something. Did you ever see him?”
“I should say I did!” defended Ernest, hotly. “I saw him up at Fort Gibson before ever he came into Texas, and I’ve seen him at Gonzales, too. He’s the finest, kindest man anybody ever met. He’s a friend of President Jackson’s, and a friend of Texas—and didn’t Texas send for him, and hasn’t he been at the head of things around Nacogdoches, and taken part in the conventions, and haven’t they elected him their commander-in-chief already?”
“Shucks!” scoffed Leo. “We don’t care what they’re doing up ’round Nacogdoches. We’ve got a leader picked out that we know and can depend on. He’s from down our way.”
“But Houston’s been in the United States army, and he’s lived with the Indians, and he’s not afraid of anything,” argued Ernest. “He can fight the way the white men fight and he can fight the way the Indians fight; and if he was commander then maybe all the Cherokees and Comanches would join us.”
But Leo was unconvinced. So was Jim; and moreover, Jim didn’t seem even to favor Austin, especially, although he knew Stephen Austin well.
“Austin would do toler’bly, I reckon,” agreed Jim. “But we settlers on the Colorado have a Colorado man we want. What’s the use in looking to the Brazos or clear to East Texas for a commander, when right here in camp we’ve one of the best fighters in Texas, who’s lived on the Colorado, and knows the whole country and all the men, from the Colorado to the Rio Grande?”
“But if everybody wants a different man, how’s anybody to be elected?” demanded Ernest. And suddenly, interrupting himself, he sprang to his feet, pointing. “Look!” he cried. “Here’s a big bunch of more volunteers coming; a regular company! Hooray!”
“Hooray!” cheered Jim and Leo; and from Gonzales and from the cornfield resounded other cheers, as men flourished their hats and rifles, welcoming the new arrivals.
“They’ve got a flag! See it?”