But the man was talkative.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Pedro Miguel Alvarado," replied Ned on the spur of the moment.
"Well, friend, it is a noble name, that of Alvarado."
"But it is not a noble who bears it. Though a descendant of the great Alvarado, who fought by the side of the glorious and mighty conquistador, Hernando Cortez, I am but a poor peasant offering my life daily for bread in the army of General Santa Anna."
The man laughed.
"You are as well off as I am," he said. "But what of the wicked Texans? Are they yet ready to surrender their throats to our knives? The dogs hold us over long. It is said that they number scarce two hundred within the mission. Truly they fight hard, and well they may, knowing that death only is at the end."
Ned shuddered. The man seemed to take it all so lightly. But he replied in a firm voice:
"I learned little of them save that they still fight. I took care not to put myself before the muzzle of any of their rifles."