“And once more the Mexicans got the worst of it,” said Jed Curley.
Dead men and horses lay about; but of living men there was no trace. Dolph rode about the field and narrowly scanned the field for indications.
“Here’s the way the Mexicans went when they left,” said he, pointing to the ground. “And here’s the direction the people took who fought them.”
Both Walter and Ned examined the last trail eagerly; both had the same thought in his mind.
“Wagon tracks,” said Walter. “Here they are.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Ned excitedly.
“Ethel and Bill’s gone off with the party that rescued them,” spoke young Hutchinson.
“And toward San Antonio,” said Davy Crockett.
The little band followed the trail for a few miles and then went into camp. Early in the morning they were off once more. But the party ahead of them were evidently hard riders, for the distance between them did not seem to decrease.
“It’s my private opinion,” said Colonel Crockett, “that this trail is a half dozen hours old. More than likely the folks ahead have ridden a good part of the night.”