He walked steadily for hours. The road was rough, but he was young and
strong. Once he crossed the pedregal, a region where an old lava flow
had cooled, and which presented to his feet numerous sharp edges like
those of a knife. He had good shoes with heavy soles and he knew their
value. On the long march before him they were worth as much as bread and
weapons, and he picked his way as carefully as a walker on a tight rope.
He was glad when he had crossed the dangerous pedregal and entered a
cypress forest, clustering on a low hill. Grass grew here also, and he
rested a while, wrapped in his serape against the coldness of the night.

He saw behind and now below him the city, the towers of the churches
outlined against the sky. It was from some such place as this that
Cortez and his men, embarked upon the world's most marvelous adventure,
had looked down for the first time upon the ancient city of
Tenochtitlan. But it did not beckon to Ned. It seemed to him that a
mighty menace to his beloved Texas emanated from it. And he must warn
the Texans.

He sprang to his feet and resumed his journey. At the eastern edge of
the hill he came upon a beautiful little spring, leaping from the rock.
He drank from it and went on. Lower down he saw some adobe huts among
the cypresses and cactus. No doubt their occupants were sound asleep,
but for safety's sake he curved away from them. Dogs barked, and when
they barked again the sound showed they were coming nearer. He ran,
rather from caution than fear, because if the dogs attacked he wished to
be so far away from the huts that their owners would not be awakened.

Now he gave thanks that he had the machete. He thrust his hands under
the serape and clasped its strong handle. It was a truly formidable
weapon. He came to another little hill, also clothed in cypress, and