CHAPTER XIII
TO THE LAST MAN
Ned awoke after a feverish night, when there was yet but a strip of grayin the east. It was Sunday morning, but he had lost count of time, anddid not know it. He had not undressed at all when he lay down, and nowhe stood by the window, seeking to see and hear. But the light was yetdim and the sounds were few. Nevertheless the great pulse in his throatbegan to leap. The attack was at hand.
The door of the room was unlocked and the two peons who had guarded himupon the roof came for him. Ned saw in the half gloom that they werevery grave of countenance.
"We are to take you to the noble Captain Urrea, who is waiting for you,"said Fernando.
"Very well," said Ned. "I am ready. You have been kind to me, and I hopethat we shall meet again after to-day."
Both men shook their heads.
"We fear that is not to be," said Fernando.
They found Urrea and another young officer waiting at the door of thehouse. Urrea was in his best uniform and his eyes were very bright. Hewas no coward, and Ned knew that the gleam was in anticipation of thecoming attack.
"The time is at hand," he said, "and it will be your wonderful fortuneto see how Mexico strikes down her foe."
His voice, pitched high, showed excitement, and a sense of the dramatic.Ned said nothing, and his own pulses began to leap again. The strip ofgray in the east was broadening, and he now saw that the whole town wasawake, although it was not yet full daylight. Santa Anna had been atwork in the night, while he lay in that feverish sleep. He heardeverywhere now the sound of voices, the clank of arms and the beat ofhorses' hoofs. The flat roofs were crowded with the Mexican people. Nedsaw Mexican women there in their dresses of bright colors, like Romanwomen in the Colosseum, awaiting the battle of the gladiators. Theatmosphere was surcharged with excitement, and the sense of comingtriumph.
Ned's breath seemed to choke in his throat and his heart beat painfully.Once more he wished with all his soul that he was with his friends, thathe was in the Alamo. He belonged with them there, and he would ratherface death with those familiar faces around him than be here, safeperhaps, but only a looker-on. It was with him now a matter of theemotions, and not of reasoned intellect. Once more he looked toward theold mission, and saw the dim outline of the buildings, with thedominating walls of the church. He could not see whether anyone watchedon the walls, but he knew that the sentinels were there. PerhapsCrockett, himself, stood among them now, looking at the great Mexicancoil of steel that was wrapping itself tighter and tighter around theAlamo. Despite himself, Ned uttered a sigh.
"What is the matter with you?" asked Urrea, sharply. "Are you alreadyweeping for the conquered?"
"You know that I am not," replied Ned. "You need not believe me, but Iregret that I am not in the Alamo with my friends."
"It's an idle wish," said Urrea, "but I am taking you now to GeneralSanta Anna. Then I leave, and I go there! Look, the horsemen!"
He extended his hand, and Ned saw his eyes kindling. The Mexican cavalrywere filing out in the dim dawn, troop after troop, the early lightfalling across the blades of the lances, spurs and bridles jingling. Allrode well, and they made a thrilling picture, as they rode steadily on,curving about the old fortress.
"I shall soon be with them," said Urrea in a tone of pride. "We shallsee that not a single one of your Texans escapes from the Alamo."
Ned felt that choking in his throat again, but he deemed it wiser tokeep silent. They were going toward the main plaza now, and he sawmasses of troops gathered in the streets. These men were generallysilent, and he noticed that their faces expressed no elation. He divinedat once that they were intended for the assault, and they had no causefor joy. They knew that they must face the deadly Texan rifles.
Urrea led the way to a fortified battery standing in front of the mainplaza. A brilliant group stood behind an earthen wall, and Ned saw SantaAnna among them.
"I have brought the prisoner," said Urrea, saluting.
"Very good," replied the dictator, "and now, Captain Urrea, you can joinyour command. You have served me well, and you shall have your share inthe glory of this day."
Urrea flushed with pride at the compliment, and bowed low. Then hehurried away to join the horse. Santa Anna turned his attention.
"I have brought you here at this moment," he said, "to give you a lastchance. It is not due to any mercy for you, a rebel, but it is becauseyou have been so long in the Alamo that you must know it well. Pointout to us its weakest places, and you shall be free. You shall go northin safety. I promise it here, in the presence of my generals."
"I have nothing to tell," replied Ned.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely sure."
"Then it merely means a little more effusion of blood. You may stay withus and see the result."
All the ancient, inherited cruelty now shone in Santa Anna's eyes. Itwas the strange satanic streak in him that made him keep his captivethere in order that he might see the fall of his own comrades. A halfdozen guards stood near the person of the dictator, and he said to them:
"If the prisoner seeks to leave us, shoot him at once."
The manner of Santa Anna was arrogant to the last degree, but Ned wasglad to stay. He was eager to see the great panorama which was about tobe unrolled before him. He was completely absorbed in the Alamo, and heutterly forgot himself. Black specks were dancing before his eyes, andthe blood was pounding in his ears, but he took no notice of suchthings.
The gray bar in the east broadened. A thin streak of shining silver cutthrough it, and touched for a moment the town, the river, the army andthe Alamo. Ned leaned against an edge of the earthwork, and breathedheavily and painfully. He had not known that his heart could beat sohard.
The same portentous silence prevailed everywhere. The men and women onthe roofs of the houses were absolutely still. The cavalry, their linenow drawn completely about the mission, were motionless. Ned, straininghis eyes toward the Alamo, could see nothing there. Suddenly he put uphis hand and wiped his forehead. His fingers came away wet. His bloodprickled in his veins like salt. He became impatient, angry. If the minewas ready, why did they not set the match? Such waiting was the pitch ofcruelty.
"Cos, my brother," said Santa Anna to the swart general, "take yourcommand. It was here that the Texan rebels humiliated you, and it ishere that you shall have full vengeance."
Cos saluted, and strode away. He was to lead one of the attackingcolumns.
"Colonel Duque," said Santa Anna to another officer, "you are one of thebravest of the brave. You are to direct the attack on the northern wall,and may quick success go with you."
Duque glowed at the compliment, and he, too, strode away to the head ofhis column.
"Colonel Romero," said Santa Anna, "the third column is yours, and thefourth is yours, Colonel Morales. Take your places and, at the signalagreed, the four columns will charge with all their strength. Let us seewhich will be the first in the Alamo."
The two colonels saluted as the others had done, and joined theircolumns.
The bar of gray in the east was still broadening, but the sun itself didnot yet show. The walls of the Alamo were still dim, and Ned could notsee whether any figures were there. Santa Anna had put a pair ofpowerful glasses to his eyes, but when he took them down he said nothingof what he had seen.
"Are all the columns provided?" he said to General Sesma, who stoodbeside him.
"They have everything," replied Sesma, "crowbars, axes, scaling ladders.Sir, they cannot fail!"
"No, they cannot," said Santa Anna exultantly. "These Texan rebels fightlike demons, but we have now a net through which they cannot break.General Gaona, see that the bands are ready and direct them to play theDeguelo when the signal for the charge is given."
Ned shivered again. The "Deguelo" meant the "cutting-of-throats," andit, too, was to be the signal of no quarter. He remembered the red flag,and he looked up. It hung, as ever, on the tower of the church of SanFernando, and i
ts scarlet folds moved slowly in the light morningbreeze. General Gaona returned.
"The bands are ready, general," he said, "and when the signal is giventhey will play the air that you have chosen."
A Mexican, trumpet in hand, was standing near. Santa Anna turned andsaid to him the single word:
"Blow!"
The man lifted the trumpet to his lips, and blew a long note thatswelled to its fullest pitch, then died away in a soft echo.
It was the signal. A tremendous cry burst from the vast ring of thethousands, and it was taken up by the shrill voices of the women on theflat roofs of the houses. The great circle of cavalrymen shook theirlances and sabers until they glittered.
When the last echo of the trumpet's dying note was gone the bands beganto play with their utmost vigor the murderous tune that Santa Anna hadchosen. Then four columns of picked Mexican troops, three thousandstrong, rushed toward the Alamo. Santa Anna and the generals around himwere tremendously excited. Their manner made no impression upon Nedthen, but he recalled the fact afterward.
The boy became quickly unconscious of everything except the charge ofthe Mexicans and the Alamo. He no longer remembered that he was aprisoner. He no longer remembered anything about himself. The cruelthrob of that murderous tune, the Deguelo, beat upon the drums of hisears, and mingled with it came the sound of the charging Mexicans, thebeat of their feet, the clank of their arms, and the shouts of theirofficers.
Whatever may be said of the herded masses of the Mexican troops, theMexican officers were full of courage. They were always in advance,waving their swords and shouting to their men to come on. Another silvergleam flashed through the gray light of the early morning, ran along theedges of swords and lances, and lingered for a moment over the darkwalls of the Alamo.
No sound came from the mission, not a shot, not a cry. Were they asleep?Was it possible that every man, overpowered by fatigue, had fallen intoslumber at such a moment? Could such as Crockett and Bowie and Travis beblind to their danger? Such painful questions raced through Ned's mind.He felt a chill run down his spine. Yet his breath was like fire to hislips.
"Nothing will stop them!" cried Santa Anna. "The Texans cower beforesuch a splendid force! They will lay down their arms!"
Ned felt his body growing colder and colder, and there was a strangetingling at the roots of the hair. Now the people upon the roofs wereshouting their utmost, and the voices of many women united in oneshrill, piercing cry. But he never turned to look at them. His eyes werealways on the charging host which converged so fast upon the Alamo.
The trumpet blew another signal, and there was a crash so loud that itmade Ned jump. All the Mexican batteries had fired at once over theheads of their own troops at the Alamo. While the gunners reloaded thesmoke of the discharge drifted away and the Alamo still stood silent.But over it yet hung a banner on which was written in great letters theword, "Texas."
The Mexican troops were coming close now. The bands playing the Degueloswelled to greater volume and the ground shook again as the Mexicanartillery fired its second volley. When the smoke drifted away again theAlamo itself suddenly burst into flame. The Texan cannon at close rangepoured their shot and shell into the dense ranks of the Mexicans. Butpiercing through the heavy thud of the cannon came the shriller and moredeadly crackle of the rifles. The Texans were there, every one of them,on the walls. He might have known it. Nothing on earth could catch themasleep, nor could anything on earth or under it frighten them intolaying down their arms.
Ned began to shout, but only hoarse cries came from a dry throat throughdry lips. The great pulses in his throat were leaping again, and he wassaying: "The Texans! The Texans! Oh, the brave Texans!"
But nobody heard him. Santa Anna, Filisola, Castrillon, Tolsa, Gaona andthe other generals were leaning against the earthwork, absorbed in thetremendous spectacle that was passing before them. The soldiers who wereto guard the prisoner forgot him and they, too, were engrossed in theterrible and thrilling panorama of war. Ned might have walked away, noone noticing, but he, too, had but one thought, and that was the Alamo.
He saw the Mexican columns shiver when the first volley was poured uponthem from the walls. In a single glance aside he beheld the exultantlook on the faces of Santa Anna and his generals die away, and hesuddenly became conscious that the shrill shouting on the flat roofs ofthe houses had ceased. But the Mexican cannon still poured a cloud ofshot and shell over the heads of their men at the Alamo, and the troopswent on.
Ned, keen of ear and so intent that he missed nothing, could nowseparate the two fires. The crackle of the rifles which came from theAlamo dominated. Rapid, steady, incessant, it beat heavily upon thehearing and nerves. Pyramids and spires of smoke arose, drifted andarose again. In the intervals he saw the walls of the church a sheet offlame, and he saw the Mexicans falling by dozens and scores upon theplain. He knew that at the short range the Texan rifles never missed,and that the hail of their bullets was cutting through the Mexican rankslike a fire through dry grass.
"God, how they fight!" he heard one of the generals--he never knewwhich--exclaim.
Then he saw the officers rushing about, shouting to the men, strikingthem with the flats of their swords and urging them on. The Mexican armyresponded to the appeal, lifted itself up and continued its rush. Thefire from the Alamo seemed to Ned to increase. The fortress was a livingflame. He had not thought that men could fire so fast, but they hadthree or four rifles apiece.
The silence which had replaced the shrill shouting in the towncontinued. All the crash was now in front of them, and where they stoodthe sound of the human voice would carry. In a dim far-away manner Nedheard the guards talking to one another. Their words showed uneasiness.It was not the swift triumphal rush into the Alamo that they hadexpected. Great swaths had been cut through the Mexican army. Santa Annapaled more than once when he saw his men falling so fast.
"They cannot recoil! They cannot!" he cried.
But they did. The column led by Colonel Duque, a brave man, was now atthe northern wall, and the men were rushing forward with the crowbars,axes and scaling ladders. The Texan rifles, never more deadly, sent downa storm of bullets upon them. A score of men fell all at once. Amongthem was Duque, wounded terribly. The whole column broke and reeledaway, carrying Duque with them.
Ned saw the face of Santa Anna turn purple with rage. He struck theearthwork furiously with the flat of his sword.
"Go! Go!" he cried to Gaona and Tolsa. "Rally them! See that they do notrun!"
The two generals sprang from the battery and rushed to their task. TheMexican cannon had ceased firing, for fear of shooting down their ownmen, and the smoke was drifting away from the field. The morning wasalso growing much lighter. The gray dawn had turned to silver, and thesun's red rim was just showing above the eastern horizon.
The Texan cannon were silent, too. The rifles were now doing all thework. The volume of their fire never diminished. Ned saw the fieldcovered with slain, and many wounded were drifting back to the shelterof the earthworks and the town.
Duque's column was rallied, but the column on the east and the column onthe west were also driven back, and Santa Anna rushed messenger aftermessenger, hurrying up fresh men, still driving the whole Mexican armyagainst the Alamo. He shouted orders incessantly, although he remainedsafe within the shelter of the battery.
Ned felt an immense joy. He had seen the attack beaten off at threepoints. A force of twenty to one had been compelled to recoil. His heartswelled with pride in those friends of his. But they were so few innumber! Even now the Mexican masses were reforming. The officers wereamong them, driving them forward with threats and blows. The great ringof Mexican cavalry, intended to keep any of the Texans from escaping,also closed in, driving their own infantry forward to the assault.
Ned's heart sank as the whole Mexican army, gathering now at thenorthern or lower wall, rushed straight at the barrier. But the deadlyfire of the rifles flashed from it, and their front line went down.Again they re
coiled, and again the cavalry closed in, holding them tothe task.
There was a pause of a few moments. The town had been silent for a longtime, and the Mexican soldiers themselves ceased to shout. Clouds ofsmoke eddied and drifted about the buildings. The light of the morning,first gray, then silver, turned to gold. The sun, now high above theearth's rim, poured down a flood of rays.
Everything stood out sharp and clear. Ned saw the buildings of the Alamodark against the sun, and he saw men on the walls. He saw the Mexicancolumns pressed together in one great force, and he even saw the stillfaces of many who lay silent on the plain.
He knew that the Mexicans were about to charge again, and his feeling ofexultation passed. He no longer had hope that the defenders of the Alamocould beat back so many. He thought again how few, how very few, werethe Texans.
The silence endured but a moment or two. Then the Mexicans rushedforward in a mighty mass at the low northern wall, the front linesfiring as they went. Flame burst from the wall, and Ned heard once morethe deadly crackle of the Texan rifles. The ground was littered by thetrail of the Mexican fallen, but, driven by their officers, they wenton.
Ned saw them reach the wall and plant the scaling ladders, many of them.Scores of men swarmed up the ladders and over the wall. A heavy divisionforced its way into the redoubt through the sallyport, and as Ned saw heuttered a deep gasp. He knew that the Alamo was doomed. And the Mexicansknew it, too. The shrill screaming of the women began again from theflat roofs of the houses, and shouts burst from the army also.
"We have them! We have them!" cried Santa Anna, exultant and excited.
Sheets of flame still burst from the Alamo, and the rifles still pouredbullets on the swarming Mexican forces, but the breach had been made.The Mexicans went over the low wall in an unbroken stream, and theycrowded through the sallyport by hundreds. They were inside now, rushingwith the overwhelming weight of twenty to one upon the little garrison.They seized the Texan guns, cutting down the gunners with lances andsabers, and they turned the captured cannon upon the defenders.
Some of the buildings inside the walls were of adobe, and they were soonshattered by the cannon balls. The Texans, covered with smoke and dustand the sweat of battle, were forced back by the press of numbers intothe convent yard, and then into the church and hospital. Here the cannonand rifles in hundreds were turned upon them, but they still fought.Often, with no time to reload their rifles, they clubbed them, and droveback the Mexican rush.
The Alamo was a huge volcano of fire and smoke, of shouting and death.Those who looked on became silent again, appalled at the sights andsounds. The smoke rose far above the mission, and caught by a lightwind drifted away to the east. The Mexican generals brought up freshforces and drove them at the fortress. A heavy column, attacking on thesouth side, where no defenders were now left, poured over a stockade andcrowded into the mission. The circle of cavalry about the Alamo againdrew closer, lest any Texan should escape. But it was a uselessprecaution. None sought flight.
In very truth, the last hope of the Alamo was gone, and perhaps therewas none among the defenders who did not know it. There were a few wildand desperate characters of the border, whom nothing in life became somuch as their manner of leaving it. In the culminating moment of thegreat tragedy they bore themselves as well as the best.
Travis, the commander, and Bonham stood in the long room of the hospitalwith a little group around them, most of them wounded, the faces of allblack with powder smoke. But they fought on. Whenever a Mexican appearedat the door an unerring rifle bullet struck him down. Fifty fell at thatsingle spot before the rifles, yet they succeeded in dragging up acannon, thrust its muzzle in at the door and fired it twice loaded withgrape shot into the room.
The Texans were cut down by the shower of missiles, and the whole placewas filled with smoke. Then the Mexicans rushed in and the few Texanswho had survived the grape shot fell fighting to the last with theirclubbed rifles. Here lay Travis of the white soul and beside him fellthe brave Bonham, who had gone out for help, and who had returned to diewith his comrades. The Texans who had defended the room against so manywere only fifteen in number, and they were all silent now. Now the wholeattack converged on the church, the strongest part of the Alamo, wherethe Texans were making their last stand. The place was seething withfire and smoke, but above it still floated the banner upon which waswritten in great letters the word, "Texas."
The Mexicans, pressing forward in dense masses, poured in cannon ballsand musket balls at every opening. Half the Texans were gone, but theothers never ceased to fire with their rifles. Within that raginginferno they could hardly see one another for the smoke, but they wereall animated by the same purpose, to fight to the death and to carry asmany of their foes with them as they could.
Evans, who had commanded the cannon, rushed for the magazine to blow upthe building. They had agreed that if all hope were lost he should doso, but he was killed on his way by a bullet, and the others went onwith the combat.
Near the entrance to the church stood a great figure swinging a clubbedrifle. His raccoon skin cap was lost, and his eyes burned like coals offire in his swarthy face. It was Crockett, gone mad with battle, and theMexicans who pressed in recoiled before the deadly sweep of the clubbedrifle. Some were awed by the terrific figure, dripping blood, and whollyunconscious of danger.
"Forward!" cried a Mexican officer, and one of his men went down with ashattered skull. The others shrank back again, but a new figure pressedinto the ring. It was that of the younger Urrea. At the last moment hehad left the cavalry and joined in the assault.
"Don't come within reach of his blows!" he cried. "Shoot him! Shoothim!"
He snatched a double-barreled pistol from his own belt and fired twicestraight at Crockett's breast. The great Tennesseean staggered, droppedhis rifle and the flame died from his eyes. With a howl of triumph hisfoes rushed upon him, plunged their swords and bayonets into his body,and he fell dead with a heap of the Mexican slain about him.
A bullet whistled past Urrea's face and killed a man beyond him. Hesprang back. Bowie, still suffering severe injuries from a fall from aplatform, was lying on a cot in the arched room to the left of theentrance. Unable to walk, he had received at his request two pistols,and now he was firing them as fast as he could pull the triggers andreload.
"Shoot him! Shoot him at once!" cried Urrea.
His own pistol was empty now, but a dozen musket balls were fired intothe room. Bowie, hit twice, nevertheless raised himself upon his elbow,aimed a pistol with a clear eye and a steady hand, and pulled thetrigger. A Mexican fell, shot through the heart, but another volley ofmusket balls was discharged at the Georgian. Struck in both head andheart he suddenly straightened out and lay still upon the cot. Thus diedthe famous Bowie.
Mrs. Dickinson and her baby had been hidden in the arched room on theother side for protection. The Mexicans killed a Texan named Walters atthe entrance, and, wild with ferocity, raised his body upon a half dozenbayonets while the blood ran down in a dreadful stream upon those whoheld it aloft.
Urrea rushed into the room and found the cowering woman and her baby.The Mexicans followed, and were about to slay them, too, when a gallantfigure rushed between. It was the brave and humane Almonte. Sword inhand, he faced the savage horde. He uttered words that made Urrea turndark with shame and leave the room. The soldiers were glad to follow.
At the far end of the church a few Texans were left, still fightingwith clubbed rifles. The Mexicans drew back a little, raised theirmuskets and fired an immense shattering volley. When the smoke clearedaway not a single Texan was standing, and then the troops rushed in withsword and bayonet.
It was nine o'clock in the morning, and the Alamo had fallen. Thedefenders were less than nine score, and they had died to the last man.A messenger rushed away at once to Santa Anna with the news of thetriumph, and he came from the shelter, glorying, exulting and cryingthat he had destroyed the Texans.
Ned followed the dictator. He never
knew exactly why, because many ofthose moments were dim, like the scenes of a dream, and there was somuch noise, excitement and confusion that no one paid any attention tohim. But an overwhelming power drew him on to the Alamo, and he rushedin with the Mexican spectators.
Ned passed through the sallyport and he reeled back aghast for a moment.The Mexican dead, not yet picked up, were strewn everywhere. They hadfallen in scores. The lighter buildings were smashed by cannon balls andshells. The earth was gulleyed and torn. The smoke from so much firingdrifted about in banks and clouds, and it gave forth the pungent odor ofburned gunpowder.
The boy knew not only that the Alamo had fallen, but that all of itsdefenders had fallen with it. The knowledge was instinctive. He had beenwith those men almost to the last day of the siege, and he hadunderstood their spirit.
He was not noticed in the crush. Santa Anna and the generals wererunning into the church, and he followed them. Here he saw the Texandead, and he saw also a curious crowd standing around a fallen form. Hepressed into the ring and his heart gave a great throb of grief.
It was Crockett, lying upon his back, his body pierced by many wounds.Ned had known that he would find him thus, but the shock, nevertheless,was terrible. Yet Crockett's countenance was calm. He bore no wounds inthe face, and he lay almost as if he had died in his bed. It seemed toNed even in his grief that no more fitting death could have come to theold hero.
Then, following another crowd, he saw Bowie, also lying peacefully indeath upon his cot. He felt the same grief for him that he had felt forCrockett, but it soon passed in both cases. A strange mood of exaltationtook its place. They had died as one might wish to die, since death mustcome to all. It was glorious that these defenders of the Alamo, comradesof his, should have fallen to the last man. The full splendor of theirachievement suddenly burst in a dazzling vision before him. Texans whofurnished such valor could not be conquered. Santa Anna might havetwenty to one or fifty to one or a hundred to one, in the end it wouldnot matter.
The mood endured. He looked upon the dead faces of Travis and Bonhamalso, and he was not shaken. He saw others, dozens and dozens whom heknew, and the faces of all of them seemed peaceful to him. The shoutingand cheering and vast chatter of the Mexicans did not disturb him. Hismood was so high that all these things passed as nothing.
Ned made no attempt to escape. He knew that while he might go aboutalmost as he chose in this crowd of soldiers, now disorganized, the ringof cavalry beyond would hold him. The thought of escape, however, wasbut little in his mind just then. He was absorbed in the great tomb ofthe Alamo. Here, despite the recent work of the cannon, all thingslooked familiar. He could mark the very spots where he had stood andtalked with Crockett or Bowie. He knew how the story of the immortaldefence would spread like fire throughout Texas and beyond. When heshould tell how he had seen the faces of the heroes, every heart mustleap.
He wandered back to the church, where the curious still crowded. Manypeople from the town, influential Mexicans, wished to see the terribleTexans, who yet lay as they had fallen. Some spoke scornful words, butmost regarded them with awe. Ned looked at Crockett for the second time,and a hand touched him on the shoulder. It was Urrea.
"Where are your Texans now?" he asked.
"They are gone," replied Ned, "but they will never be forgotten." Andthen he added in a flash of anger. "Five or six times as many Mexicanshave gone with them."
"It is true," said the young Mexican thoughtfully. "They fought likecornered mountain wolves. We admit it. And this one, Crockett you callhim, was perhaps the most terrible of them all. He swung his clubbedrifle so fiercely that none dared come within its reach. I slew him."
"You?" exclaimed Ned.
"Yes, I! Why should I not? I fired two pistol bullets into him and hefell."
He spoke with a certain pride. Ned said nothing, but he pressed histeeth together savagely and his heart swelled with hate of the sleek andtriumphant Urrea.
"General Santa Anna, engrossed in much more important matters, hasdoubtless forgotten you," continued the Mexican, "but I will see thatyou do not escape. Why he spares you I know not, but it is his wish."
He called to two soldiers, whom he detailed to follow Ned and see thathe made no attempt to escape. The boy was yet so deeply absorbed in theAlamo that no room was left in his mind for anything else. Nor did hecare to talk further with Urrea, who he knew was not above aiming ashaft or two at an enemy in his power. He remained in the crowd untilSanta Anna ordered that all but the troops be cleared from the Alamo.
Then, at the order of the dictator, the bodies of the Texans were takenwithout. A number of them were spread upon the ground, and were coveredwith a thick layer of dry wood and brush. Then more bodies of men andheaps of dry wood were spread in alternate layers until the funeral pilewas complete.
Young Urrea set the torch, while the Mexican army and population lookedon. The dry wood flamed up rapidly and the whole was soon a pyramid offire and smoke. Ned was not shocked at this end, even of the bodies ofbrave men. He recalled the stories of ancient heroes, the bodies of whomhad been consumed on just such pyres as this, and he was willing thathis comrades should go to join Hercules, Hector, Achilles and the rest.
The flames roared and devoured the great pyramid, which sank lower, andat last Ned turned away. His mood of exaltation was passing. No onecould remain keyed to that pitch many hours. Overwhelming grief anddespair came in its place. His mind raged against everything, againstthe cruelty of Santa Anna, who had hoisted the red flag of no quarter,against fate, that had allowed so many brave men to perish, and againstthe overwhelming numbers that the Mexicans could always bring againstthe Texans.
He walked gloomily toward the town, the two soldiers who had beendetailed as guards following close behind him. He looked back, saw thesinking blaze of the funeral pyre, shuddered and walked on.
San Antonio de Bexar was rejoicing. Most of its people, Mexican to thecore, shared in the triumph of Santa Anna. The terrible Texans weregone, annihilated, and Santa Anna was irresistible. The conquest ofTexas was easy now. No, it was achieved already. They had the dictator'sown word for it that the rest was a mere matter of gathering up thefragments.
Some of the graver and more kindly Mexican officers thought of their ownlosses. The brave and humane Almonte walked through the courts andbuildings of the Alamo, and his face blanched when he reckoned theirlosses. A thousand men killed or wounded was a great price to pay forthe nine score Texans who were sped. But no such thoughts troubled SantaAnna. All the vainglory of his nature was aflame. They were decoratingthe town with all the flags and banners and streamers they could find,and he knew that it was for him. At night they would illuminate in hishonor. He stretched out his arm toward the north and west, and murmuredthat it was all his. He would be the ruler of an empire half the size ofEurope. The scattered and miserable Texans could set no bounds to hisambition. He had proved it.
He would waste no more time in that empty land of prairies and plains.He sent glowing dispatches about his victory to the City of Mexico andannounced that he would soon come. His subordinates would destroy thewandering bands of Texans. Then he did another thing that appealed tohis vanity. He wrote a proclamation to the Texans announcing the fall ofthe Alamo, and directing them to submit at once, on pain of death, tohis authority. He called for Mrs. Dickinson, the young wife, now widow,whom the gallantry of Almonte had saved from massacre in the Alamo. Hedirected her to take his threat to the Texans at Gonzales, and shewillingly accepted. Mounting a horse and alone save for the baby in herarms, she rode away from San Antonio, shuddering at the sight of theMexicans, and passed out upon the desolate and dangerous prairies.
The dictator was so absorbed in his triumph and his plans for hisgreater glory that for the time he forgot all about Ned Fulton, hisyouthful prisoner, who had crossed the stream and who was now in thetown, attended by the two peons whom Urrea had detailed as his guards.But Ned had come out of his daze, and his mind was as keen and alert asever. The eff
ects of the great shock of horror remained. His was not abitter nature, but he could not help feeling an intense hatred of theMexicans. He was on the battle line, and he saw what they were doing. Heresolved that now was his time to escape, and in the great turmoilcaused by the excitement and rejoicing in San Antonio he did not believethat it would be difficult.
He carefully cultivated the good graces of the two soldiers who wereguarding him. He bought for them mescal and other fiery drinks whichwere now being sold in view of the coming festival. Their good natureincreased and also their desire to get rid of a task that had beenimposed upon them. Why should they guard a boy when everybody else wasgetting ready to be merry?
They went toward the Main Plaza, and came to the Zambrano Row, where theTexans had fought their way when they took San Antonio months before.Ned looked up at the buildings. They were still dismantled. Great holeswere in the walls and the empty windows were like blind eyes. He saw atonce that their former inhabitants had not yet returned to them, andhere he believed was his chance.
When they stood beside the first house he called the attention of hisguards to some Mexican women who were decorating a doorway across thestreet. When they looked he darted into the first of the houses in theZambrano Row. He entered a large room and at the corner saw a stairway.He knew this place. He had been here in the siege of San Antonio by theTexans, and now he had the advantage over his guards, who were probablystrangers.
He rushed for the staircase and, just as he reached the top, one of theguards, who had followed as soon as they noticed the flight of theprisoner, fired his musket. The discharge roared in the room, but thebullet struck the wall fully a foot away from the target. Ned was on thesecond floor, and out of range the next moment. He knew that thesoldiers would follow him, and he passed through the great hole, brokenby the Texans, into the next house.
Here he paused to listen, and he heard the two soldiers muttering andbreathing heavily. The distaste which they already felt for their taskhad become a deep disgust. Why should they be deprived of their part inthe festival to follow up a prisoner? What did a single captive amountto, anyhow? Even if he escaped now the great, the illustrious SantaAnna, whose eyes saw all things, would capture him later on when heswept all the scattered Texans into his basket.
Ned went from house to house through the holes broken in the partywalls, and occasionally he heard his pursuers slouching along andgrumbling. At the fourth house he slipped out upon the roof, and layflat near the stone coping.
He knew that if the soldiers came upon the roof they would find him, buthe relied upon the mescal and their lack of zeal. He heard them oncetramping about in the room below him, and then he heard them no more.
Ned remained all the rest of the afternoon upon the roof, not daring toleave his cramped position against the coping. He felt absolutely safethere from observation, Mexicans would not be prowling throughdismantled and abandoned houses at such a time. Now and then gay shoutscame from the streets below. The Mexicans of Bexar were disturbed littleby the great numbers of their people who had fallen at the Alamo. Thedead were from the far valleys of Mexico, and were strangers.
Ned afterward thought that he must have slept a little toward twilight,but he was never sure of it. He saw the sun set, and the gray and silentAlamo sink away into the darkness. Then he slipped from the roof,anxious to be away before the town was illuminated. He had no difficultyat all in passing unnoticed through the streets, and he made his waystraight for the Alamo.
He was reckoning very shrewdly now. He knew that the superstitiousMexicans would avoid the mission at night as a place thronged withghosts, and that Santa Anna would not need to post any guard withinthose walls. He would pass through the inclosures, then over the lowerbarriers by which the Mexicans had entered, and thence into the darknessbeyond.
It seemed to him the best road to escape, and he had another object alsoin entering the Alamo. The defenders had had three or four riflesapiece, and he was convinced that somewhere in the rooms he would find agood one, with sufficient ammunition.
It was with shudders that he entered the Alamo, and the shudders cameagain when he looked about the bloodstained courts and rooms, lately thescene of such terrible strife, but now so silent. In a recess of thechurch which had been used as a little storage place by himself andCrockett he found an excellent rifle of the long-barreled Westernpattern, a large horn of powder and a pouch full of bullets. There wasalso a supply of dried beef, which he took, too.
Now he felt himself a man again. He would find the Texans and then theywould seek vengeance for the Alamo. He crossed the Main Plaza, droppedover the low wall and quickly disappeared in the dusk.