In a flash they were driving the whole frightened herd in a run toward the gate that led into the great plaza of the Alamo.

The swift motion, the sense of success in a sudden maneuver, thrilled Ned.
He shouted at the cattle as he would have done when he was a small boy.
They were near the gate when he heard an ominous sound by his side.

It was the cocking of Davy Crockett's rifle, and when he looked around he saw that Old Betsy was leveled, and that the sure eye of the Tennessean was looking down the sights.
Some of the Mexican skirmishers seeing the capture of the herd by the daring Texans were galloping forward to check it.

Crockett's finger pressed the trigger.

Old Betsy flashed and the foremost rider fell to the ground.
"I told that Mexican to come down off his horse, and he came down," chuckled Crockett.
The Mexicans drew back, because other Texan rifles, weapons that they had learned to dread, were raised.