Warriors who had followed them into the surf turned back to begin a joyous plundering of homes and warehouses. Buffalo Caller entered a store and marveled at the variety of treasures it offered. He had tasted apples in San Antonio, and he found a barrelful here. He bit eagerly into one while he searched the store for other delights. On the shelves he found rolls of cloth, some plain, others in bright colors. Antelope joined him, shouting in glee as he yanked down a bolt of red material and began to unfold it, wrapping it around his shoulders and waist. He picked up a stovepipe hat and jammed it onto his head, bending the feather he wore tied into his braided black hair.

Buffalo Caller thought Antelope looked ridiculous. He would not trade his buffalo headdress for all the hats in the store. But he carried out an armload of cloth he was sure would please his wives. A long string of red ribbon stretched behind him.

He began smelling smoke. Other warriors were setting fire to houses as they finished their looting.

The Comanches celebrated high carnival, sacking and burning while frustrated townspeople witnessed the destruction from sanctuary far out on the water. Late in the afternoon, wearying warriors began to draw away. They had packed many of the captured horses and mules with goods taken from Linnville homes, stores, and warehouses. Buffalo Caller laughed at the sight of a mule with ribbons tied in its tail, kicking at a bolt of blue cloth that dragged in the dust behind. Many of the men wore white-man clothes and hats of various descriptions. The wind tugged at several open umbrellas. Antelope had placed a hat on his horse’s head after cutting slits so it would fit over the ears. It was proper that the horse wear a Texan hat, he said, for it had been taken from a Texan corral west of San Antonio.

Hardly a building remained intact. Most not already burned to the ground were ablaze now as the raiders retreated. A heavy pall of dark smoke hung over the town. Linnville would be little but ashes and ruin when its citizens mustered courage to row back from the sea. Then they would know the true price of Texan treachery.

It mattered not that the people here probably had nothing to do with what happened in the San Antonio council house. They were white. In the eyes of The People, vengeance against one enemy was vengeance against all. They had no patience with individual responsibility, separating the guilty from the innocent. All their enemies were guilty.

Buffalo Caller noted that the head of the column was moving in a northwesterly direction. That pleased him. In a few days he would be back in the familiar and pleasant surroundings of his own country. He had gazed upon the big water once, had felt its wetness and tasted its salt. His own eyes had witnessed a great house that floated upon the sea. He had not seen the fish as large as horses, but he had seen enough. His curiosity was satisfied.