Altogether, Colonel Bowie thought that General Cos had decided to fight from his fortifications rather than in the open, after having learned how the Texans were rallying; and he advised General Austin to push on as rapidly as possible.
On the night of the 19th a forced march was made. The Salado was reached at daybreak. From the advance, rifle-shots drifted back through the mist, and the alarm spread; but the shots proved to be only those of a skirmish with a Mexican spy company, who promptly retreated before Ben Milam’s men and left the crossing clear.
So, on the morning of October 20, the army camped on the west bank of the Salado Creek, within sight of Bejar, beyond the stretch of gently rolling prairie.
Now another recruit arrived. He was the celebrated Deaf Smith himself—and he proved to be thoroughly angered. Amidst a curious crowd of Gonzales men (he had lived at Gonzales before he moved to San Antonio) he told his story in the fewest possible words; his hand behind his ear to catch any comments, and a flush on his dark, leathery face.
“Was goin’ home to Bejar after a leetle hunt [he said]. Hadn’t heard ’special about this scrimmage. Know everybody in Bejar, anyhow. Met up with a Mexican camp. They signed me friendly to come in. So I rides on unsuspectin’. When I got right near they all begun shootin’ at me. Never teched me. Dirty trick. Wuss’n Injuns. Made me mad. So hyar I be. Ready to sarve. Fam’ly in Bejar yet, though. Got to get ’em out.”
“Bully for you! That’s the spirit!” they praised. No recruit could be of greater value, for “Deaf” Smith, the lone hunter, was as brave as a bulldog and as cunning as a fox. He could “out-Injun” the Indians themselves. And he knew every foot of the country and every inch of Bejar.
General Austin immediately made him chief independent scout.
On the morning after Deaf Smith’s arrival in such a huff Ernest heard himself hailed as he was returning from washing his one extra pair of socks in the creek. The voice was that of Sergeant Brown, who held a piece of paper in his hand.
“The lieutenant’s got you down on a detail this mawnin’,” drawled the sergeant. “You get youah hawss an’ gun, an’ report to Majuh Somervell, over yonduh.”
“What is it? A scout?” queried Ernest, joyed.