Forty against seven are long odds.
The seven fell back, and Zete, though injured by a gunshot, was released and carried off by lhis Negro partisans.
On Tuesday morning Sheriff De Witt
rode out with half Gonzales
at his side.
As they approached the ranch where Zete was lying, they looked and listened for sign and sound-none came; the ranch was silent as a tomb.
On peering through the door, De Witt
perceived two corpses, and on touching the bodies he found they were still warm.
One corpse was that of Zete Fly; the other that of an unknown Negro.
Both bodies were riddled with shots, so were the wall and door.
A short and bloody fight had evidently taken place, but who the combatants were no sign remained to tell.
The work of death was done — the ministers of doom were gone.
Later in the day, some Negroes who had aided in the fight and rescue came before De Witt
and told him that a party of White
men had come that morning to the ranch and summoned the Negroes to surrender Zete Fly. The party being too strong for the Negroes to fight, many of them ran away; but one man, braver than his crew, had raised his gun, and standing in front of Zete, had challenged his enemies to come on. A White volley struck them dead.