The fire of the white sharpshooters had grown too hot and the Indians were creeping away, leaving their dead in the grass.

Presently their fire ceased entirely and then that of the white marksmen ceased also.
No sounds came from the Mexicans, who were all out of range.

In the hollow the wounded, who now numbered one-fifth of the whole, suppressed their groans, and their comrades, who bound up their hurts or gave them water, said but little.

Ned's own throat had become parched again, but he would not ask for another drop of water.
The Texans had used oxen to drag their cannon and wagons, and most of them now lay dead about the rim of the shallow crater, slain by the Mexican and Indian bullets.

The others had been tied to the wagons to keep them, when maddened by the firing, from trampling down the Texans themselves.