And a fine big horse he was, too, worth knowing and owning.

Yes, it was Old Jack, the horse that had carried him to safety.
His little store of provisions was still tied to the saddle and he ate hungrily.

At the end of the grove was a small pool formed by the winter's rains, and though the water was far from clear he drank his fill.

He flexed and tensed his muscles again until all the stiffness and soreness were gone.

Then he made ready for his departure.
He could direct his course by the sun, and he intended to go straight to San Antonio.