“Well,” asked Davy Crockett, “what happened?”
“We thought they meant to camp with us that night,” said Sid. “But they changed their minds and went away a little after dark.”
“When were you attacked by the Mexicans?” asked Crockett.
“This morning. We’d just broken camp and had got the mules hitched to the wagon, when they came down on us.”
“What became of Miss Norton?” asked Ned, feverishly.
“The last I saw of her,” said Sid, “she was on a mustang, tearing away toward the southwest with my brother Bill beside her. Then I was cut off, and headed for the river, meaning to swim my pony across. I’d got to this side, but the Mexicans knew the country and in a little while had me surrounded. Then they took me back across the river and began following the trail of those of their band who’d rode after Ethel Norton and my brother Bill.”
“Yes, yes,” said Walter and Ned in a breath.
“We’d gone about six or eight miles,” said the boy, “and then we heard firing ahead; some of the Mexicans went forward to find out what it meant; they came back in a little while full tilt and away we struck back for the river once more. We’d crossed and had ridden about an hour on this side when we sighted you folks.”
“Haven’t you any idea what the firing meant that you heard when the party stopped and turned back?”
Sid shook his head.