"And we can find no words in which to describe to you our gratitude,"
said the crippled man on the horse. "We were informed very clearly by
Urrea that we were rebels and, under the decree of Santa Anna, would be
executed. Even our young friend here, this boy, William Allen, would not
have been spared."

"We ain't all the way out of the woods yet," said the Panther, not
wishing to have their hopes rise too high and then fall. "Of course
Urrea an' his men have some arms left. They wouldn't stack 'em all under
the shed, an' they can get more from other Mexicans in these parts. When
they learn from their trailers how few we are they'll follow."

The rescued were silent, save one, evidently a veteran frontiersman, who
said:

"Let 'em come. I was took by surprise, not thinkin' any Mexicans was
north of the Rio Grande. But now that I've got a rifle on one shoulder
an' a musket on the other I think I could thrash an acre-lot full of
'em."

"That's the talk," said Obed White. "We'll say to 'em: 'Come one, come
all, this rock from its firm base may fly, but we're the boys who'll
never say die.'"

They relapsed once more into silence. The rain had lightened a little,
but the night was as dark as ever. The boy whom the man had called
William Allen drew up by the side of Ned. They were of about the same
height, and each was as tall and strong as a man.