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. "Whoop!" yelled Castro. "Rifle!" "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. It was a terrific surprise to the red riders. They were smitten as by lightning. They could have no idea of the numbers of their new assailants, and they were in wholesome dread of the marksmanship of the Texans. Well they might be! Wheeling into a line at the order of their commander, the rangers were deliberately picking off warrior after warrior until their rifles were empty. "Forward! Charge!" shouted Travis. "Come on, fellers!" yelled Crockett. "It's Bowie and the boys! Don't you miss a shot." They were not missing so long as any human target was within pistol range, but the targets were getting away. This was not at all what they had counted on. They fought for a moment, of course, for they were warriors, and their flights of arrows were not sent in vain. Right through them rode the rangers, leaving three of their number on the grass, while several more carried with them well-aimed arrows. "Hot work," laughed Travis, "but here we are! Bowie, old fellow! Hurrah!" Away wheeled the stricken Comanches, for the rangers were reloading. The savage rush was over and the next business was to get out of rifle range. It was a curious spectacle. There stood Crockett, the rough old bear hunter, the sarcastic humorist, the lank, lantern-jawed frontiersman, hugging Colonel Bowie. It almost seemed as if he were crying. "Hurrah!" he shouted. "I kind o' knowed they hadn't wiped him out." "Crockett, old boy!" said Travis. "Give him a chance to speak. You are choking him." "Jest what I want to do," said Davy. "Now, Bowie, whar have you been?" "Let go, Crockett," said Bowie, "and I'll tell you. But some of the men are hurt----" "The boys are 'tending to 'em," replied Travis. "How about Tetzcatl?" "Not a word of him now!" burst from Bowie, vehemently. "Travis! I've found cash enough to pay for all the ammunition we need to whip Mexico. I'll tell you as we go along. Where's Sam Houston?" "He's to be at the fort to-day," said Crockett. "But whar on earth did you pick up any dollars?" The first answer was Bowie's finger on his lips. Then they three mounted and rode on together.