made rapid progress. On the other hand, the mustangs of the whites were tired from the hard night's ride from Gonzales and vicinity, and they could not keep up the pace, although urged to do their best by their riders. All of the whites bewailed the fate of Whippler, and swore to be revenged if given "the ghost of a chance."
When Amos Radbury, Stover, and the two boys gained the other whites, they found Bowie's party fording one of the creeks running into the Guadalupe. The Indians had passed there about ten minutes before, and it was to be seen that they had not even stopped to water their horses. All of the settlers' horses were thirsty, and some refused to budge from the stream until they had slaked their thirst.
"Do you think they will be caught?" asked Dan, as he swept along beside his father.
"They will not be caught if they can help it," replied Mr. Radbury, with a faint smile. "They know it will go hard with them if we do come up with them."
"What of the wounded?" asked Ralph, But his father merely shrugged his shoulders.
"They'll crawl off in the bushes, and either git away, or die," answered Poke Stover, philosophically. To him the life of an Indian was of no account. He had never considered that an Indian
