The moon was shining, and the little ’dobe building stood silent and pale under its cold light. As the boys stood some little distance away, they heard the whinny of a horse and the stamp of hoofs. But they did not attribute any importance to this; horses were to be heard and seen anywhere in towns like San Antonio. But when they saw two indistinct forms holding close to the shadows thrown by the house, they became all attention.
“Take it quietly now,” warned Walter Jordan. “It might mean nothing at all.”
Upon their hands and knees they approached the house; or at least three of them did, for Sid Hutchinson had noiselessly left them, walked softly along the deserted street for a space, and was now speeding as hard as he could go for the American headquarters.
Walter and Ned had left their rifles behind them, but each possessed a derringer which Crockett had advised them to buy at the beginning of the journey west from the Mississippi. But Bill Hutchinson had no weapon except a hatchet which he carried in his belt.
There now came a rattling sound and a jingling as though something had dropped to the ground.
“They are forcing the door,” whispered Ned Chandler.
The boys pressed forward, cautiously, but with more speed. The door of the house was open; as they stood beside it, not sure of their next movement, and not wanting to make a false one, there came a sudden and startling scream from the interior. At this they sprang inside, the derringers and the tomahawk held ready for use.
Upon their appearance there came a shot and a confusion of voices which Walter and Ned recognized as those of Huntley and Barker. Then there was a smashing of glass.
“This way!” cried the voice of Colonel Huntley.
“He’s going through the window at the other side of the house,” cried Ned.