The Texan Scouts: A Story of the Alamo and Goliad

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE SAD SURRENDER

  Ned took another look at the beleaguered force, and what he saw did notencourage him. The men, crowded together, were standing in a depressionseven or eight feet below the surface of the surrounding prairie. Nearby was an ammunition wagon with a broken axle. The men themselves, threeranks deep, were in a hollow square, with the cannon at the angles andthe supply wagons in the center. Every face looked worn and anxious, butthey did not seem to have lost heart.

  Yet, as Ned had foreseen, this was quite a different force from thatwhich had held the Alamo so long, and against so many. Most of the youngfaces were not yet browned by the burning sun of Texas. Drawn by thereports of great adventure they had come from far places, and eachlittle company had its own name. There were the "Grays" from NewOrleans, the "Mustangs" from Kentucky, the "Red Rovers" from Alabama andothers with fancy names, but altogether they numbered, with the smallreinforcements that had been received, only three hundred and fifty men.

  Ned could have shed tears, when he looked upon the force. He felthimself a veteran beside them. Yet there was no lack of courage amongthem. They did not flinch, as the fire grew heavier, and the cannonballs whistled over their heads. Ned was sure now that General Urreawas around them with his whole army. The presence of the cannonindicated it, and he saw enough to know that the Mexican forceoutnumbered the Texan four or five to one.

  He heard the Mexican trumpets pealing presently, and then he saw theirinfantry advancing in dark masses with heavy squadrons of cavalry oneither flank. But as soon as they came within range, they were swept bythe deadly fire of the Texan rifles and were driven back in confusion.Ned noticed that this always happened. The Mexicans could never carry aTexan position by a frontal attack. The Texans, or those who were calledthe Texans, shot straight and together so fast that no Mexican columncould withstand their hail of bullets.

  A second time the Mexicans charged, and a second time they were drivenback in the same manner. Exultation spread among the recruits standingin the hollow, but they were still surrounded. The Mexicans merely drewout of range and waited. Then they attacked a third time, and, from allsides, charging very close, infantry and cavalry. The men in the hollowwere well supplied with rifles, and their square fairly blazed. Yet theMexicans pressed home the charge with a courage and tenacity that Nedhad never seen among them before. These were Mexico's best troops, and,even when the men faltered, the officers drove them on again with thepoint of the sword. General Urrea himself led the cavalry, and theMexicans pressed so close that the recruits saw both lance and bayonetpoints shining in their faces.

  The hollow in which the Texans stood was a huge cloud of flame andsmoke. Ned was loading and firing so fast that the barrel of his riflegrew hot to the touch. He stood with two youths but little older thanhimself, and the comradeship of battle had already made them friends.But they scarcely saw the faces of one another. The little valley wasfilled with the smoke of their firing. They breathed it and tasted it,and it inflamed their brains.

  Ned's experience had made him a veteran, and when he heard the thunderof the horse's hoofs and saw the lance points so near he knew that thecrisis had come.

  "One more volley. One for your lives!" he cried to those around him.

  The volley was forthcoming. The rifles were discharged at the range ofonly a few yards into the mass of Mexican cavalry. Horses and men fellheadlong, some pitching to the very feet of the Texans and then one ofthe cannon poured a shower of grape shot into the midst of the waveringsquare. It broke and ran, bearing its general away with it, and leavingthe ground cumbered with fallen men and horses.

  The Mexican infantry was also driven back at every point, and retreatedrapidly until they were out of range. Under the cloud of smoke woundedmen crept away. But when the cloud was wholly gone, it disclosed thosewho would move no more, lying on every side. The defenders had sufferedalso. Fannin lay upon the ground, while two of his men bound up a severewound in the thigh that he had sustained from a Mexican bullet. Manyothers had been wounded and some had been killed. Most alarming of allwas the announcement that the cannon could be fired only a few timesmore, as there was no water for the sponges when they became heated andclogged. But this discouraged only the leaders, not the recruitsthemselves, who had ultimate faith in their rifles.

  Ned felt an extreme dizziness. All his old strength had not yetreturned, and after such furious action and so much excitement there wasa temporary collapse. He lay back on the grass, closed his eyes, andwaited for the weakness to pass. He heard around him the talk and murmurof the men, and the sounds of new preparations. He heard the recruitstelling one another that they had repulsed four Mexican attacks, andthat they could repulse four more. Yet the amount of talking was notgreat. The fighting had been too severe and continuous to encouragevolubility. Most of them reloaded in silence and waited.

  Ned felt that his weakness had passed, opened his eyes, and sat upagain. He saw that the Mexicans had drawn a circle of horsemen aboutthem, but well beyond range. Behind the horsemen their army waited.Fannin's men were rimmed in by steel, and Ned believed that Urrea, afterhis great losses in the charges, would now wait.

  Ned stretched himself and felt his muscles. He was strong once more andhis head was clear. He did not believe that the weakness and dizzinesswould come again. But his tongue and throat were dry, and one of theyouths who had stood with him gave him a drink from his canteen. Nedwould gladly have made the drink a deep one, but he denied himself, and,when he returned the canteen, its supply was diminished but little. Heknew better than the giver how precious the water would become.

  Ned was standing at the edge of the hollow, and his head was just abouton a level with the surrounding prairie. After his look at the Mexicancircle, something whistled by his ear. It was an unpleasant sound thathe knew well, one marking the passage of a bullet, and he dropped downinstantly. Then he cautiously raised himself up again, and, a half dozenothers who had heard the shot did the same. One rose a little higherthan the rest and he fell back with a cry, a bullet in his shoulder.

  Ned was surprised and puzzled. Whence had come these shots? There wasthe line of Mexican cavalry, well out of range, and, beyond thehorsemen, were the infantry. He could see nothing, but the woundedshoulder was positive proof that some enemy was near.

  There was a third crack, and a man fell to the bottom of the hollow,where he lay still. The bullet had gone through his head. Ned saw awreath of smoke rising from a tiny hillock, a hundred yards away, andthen he saw lifted for only a moment a coppery face with high cheekbones and coarse black hair. An Indian! No one could ever mistake thatface for a white man's. Many more shots were fired and he caughtglimpses of other faces, Indian in type like the first.

  Every hillock or other inequality of the earth seemed to spout bullets,which were now striking among the Texans, cooped up in the hollow,killing and wounding. But the circle of Mexican horsemen did not stir.

  "What are they?" called Fannin, who was lying upon a pallet, sufferinggreatly from his wound.

  "Indians," replied Ned.

  "Indians!" exclaimed Fannin in surprise. "I did not know that there wereany in this part of the country."

  "Nor did I," replied Ned, "but they are surely here, Colonel, and if Imay make a suggestion, suppose we pick sharp-shooters to meet them."

  "It is the only thing to do," said Fannin, and immediately the best menwith the rifle were placed along the edge of the hollow. It was fulltime, as the fire of the red sharpshooters was creeping closer, and wasdoing much harm. They were Campeachy Indians, whom the Mexicans hadbrought with them from their far country and, splendid stalkers andskirmishers, they were now proving their worth. Better marksmen than theMexicans, naked to the waist, their dark faces inflamed with the rage tokill, they wormed themselves forward like snakes, flattened against theground, taking advantage of every hillock or ridge, and finding many avictim in the hollow. Far back, the Mexican officers sitting on theirhorses watched their work with d
elighted approval.

  Ned was not a sharpshooter like the Panther or Davy Crockett, but he wasa sharpshooter nevertheless, and, driven by the sternest of all needs,he was growing better all the time. He saw another black head raised fora moment above a hillock, and a muzzle thrust forward, but he firedfirst. The head dropped back, but the rifle fell from the arms and layacross the hillock. Ned knew that his bullet had sped true, and he felta savage joy.

  The other sharpshooters around him were also finding targets. The Indianbullets still crashed into the crowded ranks in the hollow, but thewhite marksmen picked off one after another in the grass. The moment ared face showed itself a bullet that rarely missed was sent toward it.Here was no indiscriminate shooting. No man pulled the trigger until hesaw his target. Ned had now fired four times, and he knew that he hadnot missed once. The consuming rage still possessed him, but it was forthe Mexicans rather than the Indians against whom he was sending hisbullets. Surely they were numerous enough to fight the Texans. Theyought to be satisfied with ten to one in their favor, without bringingIndians also against the tiny settlements! The fire mounted to hisbrain, and he looked eagerly for a fifth head.

  It was a singular duel between invisible antagonists. Never was anentire body seen, but the crackling fire and the spurts of flame andsmoke were incessant. After a while the line of fire and smoke on theprairie began to retreat slowly. The fire of the white sharpshooters hadgrown too hot and the Indians were creeping away, leaving their dead inthe grass. Presently their fire ceased entirely and then that of thewhite marksmen ceased also.

  No sounds came from the Mexicans, who were all out of range. In thehollow the wounded, who now numbered one-fifth of the whole, suppressedtheir groans, and their comrades, who bound up their hurts or gave themwater, said but little. Ned's own throat had become parched again, buthe would not ask for another drop of water.

  The Texans had used oxen to drag their cannon and wagons, and most ofthem now lay dead about the rim of the shallow crater, slain by theMexican and Indian bullets. The others had been tied to the wagons tokeep them, when maddened by the firing, from trampling down the Texansthemselves. Now they still shivered with fear, and pulled at theirropes. Ned felt sorry for the poor brutes. Full cause had they forfright.

  The afternoon was waning, and he ate a little supper, followed by asingle drink of water. Every man received a similar drink and no morefrom the canteens. The coming twilight brought a coolness that wasrefreshing, but the Indians, taking advantage of the dusk, creptforward, and began to fire again at the Texans cooped up in the crater.These red sharpshooters had the advantage of always knowing the positionof their enemy, while they could shift their own as they saw fit.

  The Texan marksmen, worn and weary though they were, returned to theirtask. They could not see the Indians, but they used an old device, oftensuccessful in border warfare. Whenever an Indian fired a spurt of smokeshot up from his rifle's muzzle. A Texan instantly pulled trigger atthe base of the smoke, and oftener than not the bullet hit his duskyfoe.

  This new duel in the dark went on for two hours. The Indians could fireat the mass in the hollow, while the Texans steadily picked out theirmore difficult targets. The frightened oxen uttered terrified lowingsand the Indians, now and then aiming at the sounds, killed or woundedmore of the animals. The Texans themselves slew those that were wounded,unwilling to see them suffer so much.

  The skill of the Texans with the rifle was so great that gradually theyprevailed over the Indians a second time in the trial of sharpshooting.The warriors were driven back on the Mexican cavalry, and abandoned thecombat. The night was much darker than usual, and a heavy fog, risingfrom the plain, added to its density and dampness. The skies wereinvisible, hidden by heavy masses of floating clouds and fog.

  Ned saw a circle of lights spring up around them. They were the campfires of the Mexican army, and he knew that the troops were comfortablethere before the blaze. His heart filled with bitterness. He hadexpected so much of Fannin's men, and Crockett and Bowie before him hadexpected so much! Yet here they were, beleaguered as the Texans had beenbeleaguered in the Alamo, and there were no walls behind which theycould fight. It seemed to Ned that the hand of fate itself had resolvedto strike down the Texans. He knew that Urrea, one of Santa Anna'sablest and most tenacious generals, would never relax the watch for aninstant. In the darkness he could hear the Mexican sentinels calling toone another: "Sentinela Alerte!"

  The cold damp allayed the thirst of the young recruits, but the craterwas the scene of gloom. They did not dare to light a fire, knowing itwould draw the Indian bullets at once, or perhaps cannon shots. Thewounded in their blankets lay on the ground. A few of the unhurt slept,but most of them sat in silence looking somberly at one another.

  Fannin lay against the breech of one of the cannon, blankets having beenfolded between to make his position easy. His wound was severe and hewas suffering greatly, but he uttered no complaint. He had not showngreat skill or judgment as a leader, but he was cool and undaunted inaction. Now he was calling a council to see what they could do torelease themselves from their desperate case. Officers and men alikeattended it freely.

  "Boys," said Fannin, speaking in a firm voice despite his weakness andpain, "we are trapped here in this hole in the prairie, but if you aretrapped it does not follow that you have to stay trapped. I don't seekto conceal anything from you. Our position could not well be worse. Wehave cannon, but we cannot use them any longer because they are chokedand clogged from former firing, and we have no water to wash them out.Shortly we will not have a drop to drink. But you are brave, and you canstill shoot. I know that we can break through the Mexican lines to-nightand reach the Coleto, the water and the timber. Shall we do it?"

  Many replied yes, but then a voice spoke out of the darkness:

  "What of the wounded, Colonel? We have sixty men who can't move."

  There was an instant's silence, and then a hundred voices said in thedarkness:

  "We'll never leave them. We'll stay here and fight again!"

  Ned was standing with those nearest Fannin, and although the darknesswas great his eyes had become so used to it that he could see the paleface of the leader. Fannin's eyes lighted up at the words of his men,and a little color came into his cheeks.

  "You speak like brave men rather than wise men," he said, "but I cannotblame you. It is a hard thing to leave wounded comrades to a foe such asthe one who faces us. If you wish to stay here, then I say stay. Do youwish it?"

  "We do!" thundered scores of voices, and Fannin, moving a little to makehimself easier, said simply:

  "Then fortify as best you can."

  They brought spades and shovels from the wagons, and began to throw upan earthwork, toiling in the almost pitchy darkness. They reinforced itwith the bodies of the slain oxen, and, while they toiled, they saw thefires where the Mexican officers rested, sure that their prey could notbreak from the trap. The Texans worked on. At midnight they were stillworking, and when they rested a while there was neither food nor drinkfor them. Every drop of water was gone long since, and they had eatentheir last food at supper. They could have neither food nor drink norsleep.

  Ned had escaped from many dangers, but it is truth that this time hefelt despair. His feeling about the hand of fate striking them downbecame an obsession. What chance had men without an ounce of food or adrop of water to withstand a siege?

  But he communicated his fears to no one. Two or three hours before day,he became so sore and weary from work with the spade that he crawledinto one of the half-wrecked wagons, and tried to go to sleep. But hisnerves were drawn to too high a pitch. After a quarter of an hour's vaineffort he got out of the wagon and stood by the wheel. The sky wasstill black, and the heavy clouds of fog and vapor rolled steadily pasthim. It seemed to him that everything was closing on them, even theskies, and the air was so heavy that he found it hard to breathe.

  He would have returned to work, but he knew that he would overtask hisworn frame, and he wanted to
be in condition for the battle that hebelieved was coming with the morrow. They had not tried to cut out atnight, then they must do it by day, or die where they stood of thirst.

  He sat down at last on the ground, and leaned against a wagon wheel,drawing a blanket over his shoulders for warmth. He found that he couldrest better here than inside the wagon, and, in an hour or two, he dozeda little, but when he awoke the night was still very dark.

  The men finished their toil at the breastwork just before day and then,laying aside their shovels and picks and taking up their rifles, theywatched for the first shoot of dawn in the east. It came presently,disclosing the long lines of Mexican sentinels and behind them the army.The enemy was on watch and soon a terrible rumor, that was true, spreadamong the Texans. They were caught like the men of Refugio. Only threeor four rounds of ammunition were left. It was bad enough to be withoutfood and water, but without powder and bullets either they were no army.Now Ned knew that his presages were true. They were doomed.

  The sun rose higher, pouring a golden light upon the plain. The distanceto the Mexican lines was in appearance reduced half by the vivid light.Then Ned of the keen eye saw a dark line far off to their right on theprairie. He watched them a little, and saw that they were Mexicancavalry, coming to swell still further Urrea's swollen force. He alsosaw two cannon drawn by mules.

  Ned pointed out the column to Wallace, a Major among the Texans, andthen Wallace used a pair of glasses.

  "You are right," he said. "They are Mexicans and they have two pieces ofartillery. Oh, if we could only use our own guns!"

  But the Texan cannon stood as worthless as if they had been spiked, andthe Texans were compelled to remain silent and helpless, while theMexicans put their new guns in position, and took aim with deliberation,as if all the time in the world was theirs. Ned tried to console himselfwith the reflection that Mexican gunners were not often accurate, butthe first thud and puff of smoke showed that these were better thanusual.

  A shower of grape shot coming from a superior height swept their camp,killing two or three of the remaining oxen, smashing the wagons topieces, and wounding more men. Another shower from the second gun struckamong them with like result, and the case of the Texans grew moredesperate.

  They tried to reach the gunners with their rifles, but the range was toogreat, and, after having thrown away nearly all the ammunition that wasleft, they were forced to stand idly and receive the Mexican fire. TheMexicans must have divined the Texan situation, as a great cheer rosefrom their lines. It became evident to Ned that the shallow crater wouldsoon be raked through and through by the Mexican artillery.

  Fannin, lying upon his pallet, was already calling a council of hisofficers, to which anyone who chose might listen. The wounded leader wasstill resolute for battle, saying that they might yet cut their waythrough the Mexicans. But the others had no hope. They pointed to theincreased numbers of the foe, and the exhausted condition of their ownmen, who had not now tasted food or water for many hours. If Urreaoffered them good terms they must surrender.

  Ned stood on one side, saying nothing, although his experience wasperhaps greater than that of anybody else present. But he had seen theinevitable. Either they must yield to the Mexicans or rush boldly on thefoe and die to the last man, as the defenders of the Alamo had done. YetFannin still opposed.

  "We whipped them off yesterday, and we can do it again to-day," he said.

  But he was willing to leave it to the others, and, as they agreed thatthere was no chance to hold out any longer, they decided to parley withthe Mexicans. A white cloth was hoisted on the muzzle of a rifle. TheMexican fire ceased, and they saw officers coming forward. The sight wasalmost more than Ned could stand. Here was a new defeat, a new tragedy.

  "I shall meet them myself," said Fannin, as he rose painfully. "You comewith me. Major Wallace, but we do not speak Spanish, either of us."

  His eye roved over the recruits, and caught Ned's glance.

  "I have been much in Mexico," said Ned. "I speak Spanish and alsoseveral Mexican variations of it."

  "Good," said Fannin, "then you come with us, and you, too, Durangue. Wemay need you both."

  The two officers and the two interpreters walked out of the hollow,passing the barricade of earth and dead oxen that had been of no avail,and saw four Mexican officers coming toward them. A silk handkerchiefabout the head of one was hidden partly by a cocked hat, and Ned atonce saw that it was Urrea, the younger. His heart swelled with rage andmortification. It was another grievous pang that Urrea should be thereto exult.

  They met about midway between the camps, and Urrea stepped forward. Hegave Ned only a single glance, but it made the boy writhe inwardly. Theyoung Mexican was now all smoothness and courtesy, although Ned was surethat the cruel Spanish strain was there, hidden under his smiling air,but ready to flame up at provocation.

  "I salute you as gallant foes," said Urrea in good English, taking offhis hat. "My comrades and associates here are Colonel Salas, LieutenantColonel Holzinger and Lieutenant Gonzales, who are sent with myself bymy uncle, General Urrea, to inquire into the meaning of the white flagthat you have hoisted."

  Each of the Mexican officers, as his name was called, took off his hatand bowed.

  "I am Colonel Fannin," began the Texan leader.

  All four Mexicans instantly bowed again.

  "And you are wounded," said Urrea. "It shows the valor of the Texans,when their commander himself shares their utmost dangers."

  Fannin smiled rather grimly.

  "There was no way to escape the dangers," he said. "Your fire washeavy."

  Urrea smiled in a gratified way, and then waited politely for Fannin tocontinue. The leader at once began to treat with the Mexican officers.Ned, Durangue and Urrea translated, and the boy did not miss a word thatwas said. It was agreed that the Texans should surrender, and that theyshould be treated as prisoners of war in the manner of civilizednations. Prompt and special attention would be given to the wounded.

  Then the Mexican officers saluted courteously and went back toward theirown ranks. It had all seemed very easy, very simple, but Ned did notlike this velvet smoothness, this willingness of the Mexicans to agreeto the most generous terms. Fannin, however, was elated. He had won novictories, but he had saved the lives of his men.

  Their own return was slow, as Fannin's wound oppressed him, but whenthey reached their camp, and told what had been done, the recruits begansilently to stack their arms, half in gladness and half in sorrow. MoreMexican officers came presently and still treated them with that samesmooth and silky courtesy. Colonel Holzinger received the surrenderedarms, and, as he did so, he said to Ned, who stood by:

  "Well, it's liberty and home in ten days for all you gentlemen."

  "I hope so," said Ned gravely, although he had no home.

  The Mexican courtesy went so far that the arms of the officers werenailed up in a box, with the statement that they would be given back tothem as soon as they were released.

  "I am sorry that we cannot consider you an officer, Senor Fulton," saidyoung Urrea to Ned, "then you would get back your rifle and pistols."

  "You need not bother about it," said Ned. "I am willing to let them go.I dare say that when I need them I can get others."

  "Then you still mean to fight against us?" said Urrea.

  "If I can get an exchange, and I suppose I can."

  "You are not content even yet! You saw what happened at the Alamo. Yousurvived that by a miracle, but where are all your companions in thatsiege? Dead. You escaped and joined the Texans at Refugio. Where arethe defenders of Refugio? In the swamps of the Guadalupe, and we haveonly to put forth our hands and take them. You escaped from Refugio tofind Fannin and his men. Where are Fannin and his men now? Prisoners inour hands. How many of the Texans are left? There is no place in allTexas so far that the arm of the great Santa Anna cannot reach it."

  Ned was stung by his taunts and replied:

  "You forget Houston."

  Urre
a laughed.

  "Houston! Houston!" he said. "He does nothing. And your so-calledgovernment does nothing, but talk. They, too, will soon feel the mightand wrath of Santa Anna. Nothing can save them but a swift flight to theStates."

  "We shall see," said Ned, although at that moment he was far fromconfident. "Remember how our men died at the Alamo. The Texans cannot beconquered."

  Urrea said nothing further, as if he would not exult over a fallenenemy, although Ned knew that he was swelling with triumph, and wentback to his uncle's camp. The Texan arms were taken ahead on somewagons, and then the dreary procession of the Texans themselves marchedout of the hollow. They were all on foot and without arms. Those hurtworst were sustained by their comrades, and, thus, they marched into theMexican camp, where they expected food and water, but General Urreadirected them to walk on to Goliad.

  Fainting from hunger and thirst, they took up their march again. TheMexican cavalry rode on either side of them, and many of the horsemenwere not above uttering taunts which, fortunately, few of the prisonerscould understand. Young Urrea was in command of this guard and he rodenear the head of the column where Ned could see him. Now and then aMexican vaquero cracked his long whip, and every report made Ned startand redden with anger.

  Some of the recruits were cheerful, talked of being exchanged and offighting again in the war, but the great majority marched in silence andgloom. They felt that they had wasted themselves. They had marched intoa trap, which the Mexicans were able to close upon them before theycould strike a single blow for Texas. Now they were herded like cattlebeing driven to a stable.

  They reached the town of Goliad, and the Mexican women and children,rejoicing in the triumph of their men, came out to meet them, utteringmany shrill cries as they chattered to one another. Ned understood them,but he was glad that the others did not. Young Urrea rode up by the sideof him and said:

  "Well, you and your comrades have now arrived at our good town ofGoliad. You should be glad that your lives have been spared, because youare rebels and you deserve death. But great is the magnanimity of ourmost illustrious president and general, Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna."

  Ned looked up quickly. He thought he had caught a note of cruelty inthat soft, measured voice. He never trusted Urrea, nor did he ever trustSanta Anna.

  "I believe it is customary in civilized warfare to spare the lives ofprisoners," he said.

  "But rebels are rebels, and freebooters are freebooters," said Urrea.

  It seemed to Ned that the young Mexican wanted to draw him into somesort of controversy, and he refused to continue. He felt that there wassomething sinister about Urrea, or that he represented somethingsinister, and he resolved to watch rather than talk. So, gazingstraight ahead, he walked on in silence. Urrea, waiting for an answer,and seeing that he would get none, smiled ironically, and, turning hishorse, galloped away.

  The prisoners were marched through the town, and to the church. All theold Spanish or Mexican towns of Texas contained great stone churches,which were also fortresses, and Goliad was no exception. This was oflimestone, vaulted and somber, and it was choked to overflowing with theprisoners, who could not get half enough air through the narrow windows.The surgeons, for lack of bandages and medicines, could not attend thewounded, who lay upon the floor.

  Where were the fair Mexican promises, in accordance with which they hadyielded? Many of the unwounded became so weak from hunger and thirstthat they, too, were forced to lie upon the floor. Ned had reserves ofstrength that came to his aid. He leaned against the wall and breathedthe foul air of the old church, which was breathed over and over againby nearly four hundred men.

  The heavy doors were unbarred an hour later, and food and water werebrought to them, but how little! There was a single drink and a quarterof a pound of meat for each man. It was but a taste after their longfast, and soon they were as hungry and thirsty as ever. It was a hideousnight. There was not room for them all to sleep on the floor, and Neddozed for a while leaning against the wall.

  Food and water were brought to them in the same small quantities in themorning, but there was no word from the Mexicans concerning the promisesof good treatment and parole that had been made when they surrendered.

  Ned was surprised at nothing. He knew that Santa Anna dominated allMexico, and he knew Santa Anna. Promises were nothing to him, if itserved him better to break them. Fannin demanded writing materials andwrote a note to General Urrea protesting strongly against the violationof faith. But General Urrea was gone after Ward's men, who weresurrounded in the marshes of the Guadalupe, leaving Colonel Portilla incommand. Portilla, meanwhile, was dominated by the younger Urrea, a manof force and audacity, whom he knew to be high in the favor of SantaAnna.

  Captain Urrea did not believe in showing any kindness to the menimprisoned in the church. They were rebels or filibusters. They hadkilled many good Mexicans, and they should be made to suffer for it. Noanswer was returned to Fannin's letter, and the men in the somber oldlimestone building became depressed and gloomy.

  Ned, who was surprised at nothing, also hoped for nothing, but he soughtto preserve his strength, believing that he would soon have full need ofit. He stretched and tensed his muscles in order to keep the stiffnessfrom coming into them, and he slept whenever he could.

  Two or three days passed and the Mexican officer, Holzinger, came forFannin, who was now recovered largely from his wound. The two went awayto Copano on the coast to look for a vessel that would carry theprisoners to New Orleans. They returned soon, and Fannin and all his menwere in high hopes.

  Meanwhile a new group of prisoners were thrust into the church. Theywere the survivors of Ward's men, whom General Urrea had taken in theswamps of the Guadalupe. Then came another squad, eighty-two youngTennesseeans, who, reaching Texas by water, had been surrounded andcaptured by an overwhelming force the moment they landed. A piece ofwhite cloth had been tied around the arms of every one of these men todistinguish them from the others.

  But they were very cheerful over the news that Fannin had brought. Therewas much bustle among the Mexicans, and it seemed to be the bustle ofpreparation. The prisoners expected confidently that within another daythey would be on the march to the coast and to freedom.

  There was a singular scene in the old church. A boy from Kentucky hadbrought a flute with him which the Mexicans had permitted him to retain.Now sitting in Turkish fashion in the center of the floor he wasplaying: "Home, Sweet Home." Either he played well or their situationdeepened to an extraordinary pitch the haunting quality of the air.

  Despite every effort tears rose to Ned's eyes. Others made no attempt tohide theirs. Why should they? They were but inexperienced boys inprison, many hundreds of miles from the places where they were born.

  They sang to the air of the flute, and all through the evening they sangthat and other songs. They were happier than they had been in many days.Ned alone was gloomy and silent. Knowing that Santa Anna was now thefountain head of all things Mexican he could not yet trust.