Meanwhile he learned to know his horse thoroughly. Although Texas certainly deserved the orderly's assertion that he had the worst of tempers, he never showed it to John. There was perfect understanding between horse and rider, and John knew he could rely on Texas in any emergency. At last, when the scouts brought news that Houston had reached the San Jacinto, and would cross the river and continue his retreat next day, Santa Anna, President of the Mexican Republic and Generalissimo of her armies, felt that his time for action had come, and John Sibley, printer-boy, felt the same. He was in the saddle before daylight next morning, ready for a long day's scout. They were to scour the country between the two armies, and send back reports to General Santa Anna. Whether the unusual number of Mexicans sent out with him that morning was intended to supply messengers, or a precaution prompted by doubts of his fidelity, John neither knew nor cared. He patted his mustang's glossy neck, and whispered in its ear that they two would do great things that day. The scouts had their work cut out for them, and were off betimes. They had traversed a good many miles of country, seeing no signs of the Texans nor hearing anything new of their movements, when at noon they stopped on the bank of a large wooded creek to rest and refresh themselves and their horses. John's mustang was not hobbled like the rest, as he had no fear of its straying, but, to allow it to graze, freely, the bridle had been removed and was looped over the pommel of the saddle. "Unsaddle, Juan, and let your horse roll," said José Cardenas. "That rests them more than anything else." "Suppose Houston's scouts come upon us while we're unsaddled and unbridled?" suggested John. "_That_ for Houston's scouts!" retorted the Mexican, with a contemptuous gesture. "He has all he can do to picket his camp. But, _amigo_, I would prefer to see your horse in the same condition as ours, so if we have to fight or fly, we may be all on equal terms." "All right," said John, carelessly. He removed saddle and bridle and placed them beneath a tree. José gave a satisfied grunt, and coiled himself on the ground for a _siesta_. His companions followed his example, and in a short while the camp sank into utter stillness, the horses' crisp cropping of the long grass being the only sound disturbing the deep silence. John raised his head and looked around. No one was watching. The solitary guard had his back towards him; all the others seemed asleep. He rose noiselessly and moved towards his horse. In a tone little above a whisper he called, "Texas!" Instantly the small head was lifted from the grass, the small ears pointed forward, and the large intelligent eyes asked plainly, "Do you want me?" His master replied by a gesture, and the horse walked softly up to him. John mounted and headed him towards the creek. And then-- "Whither go you, _amigo_?" rang in his ears.