"A good guess, also," said Obed, "but we are both now Texans, heart and soul; is it not so?"
"It is even so," replied Potter gravely. Then he and Obed reached across from their horses and gave each other a powerful clasp.
"You will go with us to Goliad and help smite the heathen?" said Potter.
Obed glanced at his comrades, and all of them nodded.
"We were riding to San Antonio," said the Maine man, "to find out what was going on there, but I see no reason why we should not turn aside to help you, since we seem to be needed."
"Our need of you is great," said Potter in his solemn, unchanging tones, "as we are but few, and the enemy may be wary. Yet we must smite him and smite him hard."
"Then lead the way," said Obed. "It's better to be too soon than too late."
Without another word Potter turned his horse toward the south. He was tall and rawboned, his face burned well by the sun, but he had an angularity and he bore himself with a certain stiffness that did not belong to the "Texans" of Southern birth. Ned did not doubt that he would be most formidable in combat.
After riding at least two hours without anyone speaking a word, Potter said:
"We will meet the remainder of our friends and comrades about nightfall. We will not exceed fifty, and more probably we shall be scarcely so many as that, but with the strength of a just cause in our arms it is likely that we shall be enough."