“Tyania send these,” he said, extending them. “You go to Texas. When you see Sam Houston you tell Sam Houston Tyania love him, she wait here for him, but she never go there.” And he had hastened away before Ernest had had time even to thank him. “By jiminy!” exclaimed the Texan, as Ernest, much flustrated and delighted, slung the bullet-pouch and powder-horn upon his shoulders and balanced the little rifle. “Now you’re sure fixed out, and that Mexican government had better mind how it behaves or Texas will be free.” They left Fort Gibson behind them, and crossed the Arkansas River by means of an Indian flatboat ferry――to which the horses did not object at all. Almost due south they rode; straight for Texas, by a narrow trail that led through the timber and the prairies clear to Nacogdoches, which was the first town of any importance on the Texas northeastern frontier. Mr. Carroll was not certain that he wished to go to Nacogdoches; but he hoped to overtake General Houston, or at least to learn his whereabouts. All day they rode; at night they camped. They passed through a portion of the Creek Indian nation (the Creeks looked much like the Cherokees); and after that they saw scarcely anybody except Choctaws (another half-civilized Indian people), until before they reached the Red River they sighted, at noon, ahead, three men sitting their horses in the trail, and grouped as if chatting. “Sam Houston!” ejaculated Mr. Carroll. “Now we’ll know what’s what.” And he added, as they drew near: “Elias Rector, too. He’s United States marshal for Arkansas Territory. T’other one’s name is Harris, I think. Met him down at Little Rock. Major Arnold Harris.” Sure enough, General Houston it was, his head thrust through a Mexican blanket, draped over his shoulders, and a large-brimmed whitey-gray wool hat on his crown. He looked larger than ever, but it was no wonder that Ernest had not recognized him, for he had been clean shaven. However, Mr. Carroll had sharp eyes. The spot proved to be the focus of several trails; and as Mr. Carroll and Ernest arrived, the general was heavily dismounting from his bob-tailed pony. “This bob-tailed pony is a disgrace,” declared the general. “He is continually fighting the flies, and has no means of protecting himself; and his kicks and contortions render his rider ridiculous. I shall be the laughter of all Mexico. I require a steed with his natural weapon, a flowing tail, that he may defend himself against his enemies as his master has done. Harris, good-bye; but first you must trade with me. What are your terms?” “Very well, Sam, I will,” agreed Major Harris. “But we’ll each keep our own saddle and bridle.”