“It’s your friends, Roylston, an’ that man, the Panther, you’ve been tellin’ me about,” replied Crockett in quick tones.  “While you were asleep a Mexican, friendly to us, sneaked a message over the wall, sayin’ that Roylston, the Panther, an’ others were layin’ to the east with a big force not more’n twenty miles away—­not Fannin’s crowd, but another one that’s come down from the north.  They don’t know whether we’re holdin’ out yet or not, an’ o’ course they don’t want to risk destruction by tryin’ to cut through the Mexican army to reach us when we ain’t here.  The Mexican dassent go out of San Antonio.  He won’t try it, ‘cause, as he says, it’s sure death for him, an’ so somebody must go to Roylston with the news that we’re still alive, fightin’ an’ kickin’.  Colonel Travis has chose you, an’ you’ve got to go.  No, there’s no letter.  You’re just to tell Roylston by word of mouth to come on with his men.”

The words came forth popping like pistol shots.  Ned was swept off his feet.  He did not have time to argue or ask questions.  Bowie also added a fresh impetus.  “Go, Ned, go at once!” he said.  “You are chosen for a great service.  It’s an honor to anybody!”

“A service of great danger, requirin’ great skill,” said Crockett, “but you can do it, Ned, you can do it.”

Ned flushed.  This was, in truth, a great trust.  He might, indeed, bring the help they needed so sorely.

“Here’s your rifle an’ other weapons an’ ammunition,” said Crockett.  “The night’s at its darkest an’ you ain’t got any time to waste.  Come on!”

So swift was Crockett that Ned was ready almost before he knew it.  The Tennesseean never ceased hurrying him.  But as he started, Bowie called to him: 

“Good-by, Ned!”

The boy turned back and offered his hand.  The Georgian shook it with unusual warmth, and then lay back calmly on his blankets.

“Good-by, Ned,” he repeated, “and if we don’t meet again I hope you’ll forget the dark things in my life, and remember me as one who was doing his best for Texas.”

“But we will meet again,” said Ned.  “The relieving force will be here in two or three days and I’ll come with it.”

“Out with you!” said Crockett.  “That’s talk enough.  What you want to do now is to put on your invisible cap an’ your seven league boots an’ go like lightnin’ through the Mexican camp.  Remember that you can talk their lingo like a native, an’ don’t forget, neither, to keep always about you a great big piece of presence of mind that you can use on a moment’s notice.”

Ned wore his serape and he carried a pair of small, light but very warm blankets, strapped in a pack on his back.  His haversack contained bread and dried beef, and, with his smaller weapons in his belt, and his rifle over his shoulder, he was equipped fully for a long and dangerous journey.

Crockett and the boy passed into the convent yard.

The soft wind from the southwest blew upon their faces, and from the high wall of the church a sentinel called:  “All’s well!” Ned felt an extraordinary shiver, a premonition, but it passed, unexplained.  He and Crockett went into the main plaza and reached the lowest part of the wall.