And in Gonzales itself there was Colonel Green DeWitt, the founder of the colony and of the town: a rather heavy-set, full-faced, smooth-shaven gentleman, with wavy hair well brushed down, a pleasant smile, and courtly manners. His family were with him. There was Major James Kerr, the other founder of the town. But he had lost his wife and two children. A little girl was in the care of friends at San Felipe. There was Captain Matthew Caldwell, an Indian fighter. He was one of the early settlers, and was called “Old Paint” Caldwell because his ruddy complexion was blotched with white. There was Almeron Dickinson, not far turned twenty, who had settled away out here, found a pretty wife, and was one of the most popular citizens, and altogether a splendid young man. And there was Ezekiel Williams, the first officially-elected alcalde or mayor, who had come out in 1829, and now lived in the “outer” town, seven miles up the river. And James B. Patrick, the new alcalde; and Almond Cottle, the new sindico or town attorney; and Byrd Lockhart, the surveyor; and Winslow Turner, of Turner’s two-story hotel; and Eli Mitchell, who had a large house; and Dr. Thomas R. Miller, at whose house the council sometimes met; and the McCoys (seven of them), some of whom were original settlers; and the two McClures (Abe and Bart); and the Fulshears (Ben, Churchill and Graves); and the Jacob Darst family, where there was a boy about Ernest’s age; and Andrew Ponton, the smart Frenchman; and bold John Castleman, who contemplated moving on west; and the Fuquas, and Tumlinsons, and Zumwalts, and a lot more, of the “inner” town and the “outer” town――all forming a large family in which scarcely anybody was over fifty, and the majority were under forty. These and others Ernest met or heard of while Texas awaited word from Stephen Austin at the City of Mexico. He wrote about them and about his fun and work in letters to his mother; he had already told her of the death of Sergeant John Andrews at the hands of the Indians. He did not know when his letters would get to her, and he never knew when to expect replies; for the only way by which mail went and came was by accommodating travellers. A regular mail service was one thing that Texas was demanding from Mexico. Ernest hoped that his mother was not worrying. She _said_ she wasn’t――but mothers sometimes say this anyway.