"It's not bravado, Captain Hays," protested the boy. "It's my plain duty. I promised my employer I would stay and look after his property. He trusted me, and I mustn't disappoint him. So please don't ask me to go with you, for I can't."
"What can a boy like you do to protect the property?"
"I can do just what anybody else would do," said John, smiling; "I can do my best."
"Well," cried one gay young soldier but little older than John himself, "you may thank your lucky stars that you're 'most as black as a nigger, and can patter Spanish like a regular Don. The Mexicans will take you for one of themselves. If they do, and you get a chance at old Wooden-leg, make him believe we're ten thousand strong. It's all right to lie till you're black in the face to fool an enemy and serve your country."
John Sibley nodded and smiled, as the troop filed through the office door with many wishes for his ultimate safety. He stood looking after them with a queer twinkle in his black eyes, saying to himself:
"I'll do the best I can, as you do, brave boys, but I'll lie as little as I can help. Wonder if I couldn't make the truth do as well?"
One day passed, and then another. The Texans had left the town, and continued their retreat towards the east. Still, there was no word from the editor and proprietor of the Weekly Telegraph releasing his young assistant from his perilous position, and John staid steadily on, caring faithfully for the property intrusted to him. He was "on guard," and had no more thought of deserting his post than if he had been a soldier under orders.
He passed the anxious time watching and waiting for two events—wondering which of the two would come first—news that he was relieved from duty, and the approach of the Mexican army.
The latter came first. Early one morning the vanguard appeared, soon followed by the main body, led by President Santa Anna in person.