There had been a steady onward march of Bowie's men, without any other change in the situation than an increase in the number of their enemies.
"Boys," the colonel said, "we've gained about a mile and a half, but they're closing in on us a little. Let 'em have a pill first chance you get. Halt!"
There they stood, their rifles levelled across the saddles. It was hardly worth while to waste their small stock of powder upon swiftly careering horsemen, although now these were frequently within range.
"I'll take that drove," exclaimed Jim, as several of the whoopers wheeled into a closely gathered group.
"Got him!" he shouted, as his rifle cracked.
"One more," added Bowie. "Hold your fire, men. It won't do to have too many guns empty at one time."
The backs of two mustangs were empty, however, and the yells which followed were those of angry braves who had been stung to rashness rather than intimidated. Of course, they all wheeled away at first, taking their dead comrades with them.
The Texans again moved steadily forward, but hardly more than a quarter of a mile had been gained before Bowie shouted,--
"Here they are, men! The whole band has got in on us this time. They're gathering for a rush. Ready! Die game!"
A swarm,--a cloud,--an overwhelming torrent of the fierce cavalry of the plains, was forming in loose but effective array to sweep in upon their victims. What could six rifles and two bows do against such a storm as was now about to burst?
"Die like men!" shouted Bowie. "Kill every redskin you can draw a bead on!"
Crack, crack, went rifle after rifle, and not a shot was thrown away; but the Comanches were whooping forward upon their charge and all would soon be over.
"Hullo! What's that?" shouted the colonel.
"Ugh!" said Red Wolf. "Heap Texan! Comanche lose hair!"
Sharp, rapid, utterly unexpected, was the rattle of rifle-shots from away beyond the cloud of pony riders. Down went horse and man in quick succession.
"Travis and the rangers!" yelled Jim Cheyne.
"The boys have come! Thank God!" gasped Bowie. "Five minutes more and Houston wouldn't have had a dollar of this stuff."
Not even then was he wasting a thought upon his own life or upon the lives of those who were with him.