Several pairs of hands were busy with the massive bars of the portal, and two of the men had stationed themselves by the six-pounder gun that stood there, facing it, like an iron watchman.
Outside, the general stood by his fallen horse, calm and steady as a tree, with a heavy pistol in each hand.
"I've barely distanced them," he said. "Ready, boys! Give 'em something!"
Excepting for the sound of their horses' hoofs Houston's pursuers were making no noise, but they were now dangerously near him.
Open swung the gate, and the men who opened it could see the glitter of lance-heads in the moonlight.
"Step in, gineral!"
"Jump now! Git out o' the way!"
"Quick, Sam! I want to let 'em have it. Git inside!"
Altogether unceremonious were the rough men of the border in their hurried greetings to the man whom they really loved and trusted above other men. He did not seem to hurry, however. It was with a great deal of natural dignity that he strode through the gate-way. He was willing to escape the thrusts of those lances, but he felt no throb of fear.
He was safely away from the range of the six-pounder, and that was all, when the report of the sentry's rifle at the shot-hole was followed instantly by the roar of the cannon.