They dismounted and tied their mustangs to a tree. Then, with guns
ready for use, they crept off in a semicircle, coming up to within
sixty yards of the turkeys before they were discovered.

"Fire!" cried Stover, and bang! bang! went the two guns, one directly
after the other. They had loaded with large shot, and five turkeys
fell, two killed outright and the others badly wounded. Rushing in,
Stover quickly caught the wounded ones and wrung their necks.

[Illustration: "'THAT'S WHAT I CALL A PRETTY GOOD HAUL!' CRIED DAN,
ENTHUSIASTICALLY."]

"That's what I call a pretty good haul," cried Dan, enthusiastically.

"It's not bad, lad, although I've seen better. I wish I could have
gotten a second shot at 'em. We might have----" The old frontiersman
broke off short. "What's that?"

"It's a horse's hoofs on the trail," answered Dan. "Somebody is coming
this way."

He ran out of the bushes into which the wild turkeys had fallen, and
gazed along the road. Just above was a curve, and around this came
sweeping something which caused his heart to bound with delight.

It was the white mustang.

"By hookey!" came from Poke Stover. "It's him, eh, Dan?"

"Yes. Oh, if only I had my lasso!" For that article was attached to the
saddle of the mustang in the timber. Dan was on the point of crossing
the trail when Stover caught him by the arm.

"Don't scare the pony----" began the frontiersman, but he was too late.
The white mustang had caught sight of Dan and he came to a halt
instantly. Then he reared and plunged and swept by, and the last they
saw of him, he was running toward San Antonio at the top of his speed.

"We've seen him,--and that's all the good it will do us," remarked Poke
Stover, as Dan gazed blankly up the road, and then at his companion.

"Can't we catch him, Poke? Oh, we must!"

"Might as well try to catch a streak o' greased lightning, lad."

"I don't know about that. He looked tired, as if he had been running a
long while."

"You are sure on that? I didn't git no fair view of the critter."

"Yes, he was covered with sweat. Perhaps somebody else has been
following him."

"Well, it won't do no harm to go after him,--seein' as how he is
steerin' in our direction," said the old frontiersman, and, picking up
the dead turkeys, they ran for their mustangs and leaped into the
saddles.

Several miles were covered, and they were on the point of giving up the
chase when they encountered a settler with his prairie schooner, or big
covered wagon, on his way to Guadalupe.

"Ye-as, I seen thet air white critter jest below yere," the settler
drawled. "He war goin' 'bout fifteen miles an hour, I reckoned. Looked
tired. I wanted to go arfter him, but Susy, she wouldn't allow it."

"No, Sam Dickson, ye sha'n't go arfter no game or sech," came from the
interior of the schooner. "Ye'll settle down an' go ter farmin', an'
the sooner the better 'twill be fer yer hide, mind me!" And the dark,
forbidding face of a woman, some years older than the man, appeared
from behind the dirty flaps of the wagon-covering. At once the settler
cracked his whip and drove on.

Poke Stover chuckled to himself. "Thar's married life fer ye, Dan," he
remarked. "Do ye wonder I'm a single man?"

"My mother wasn't of that kind," answered the youth, and then Stover
abruptly changed the subject, and away they galloped again after the
white mustang, little dreaming of the trouble into which that chase was
to lead them.




CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MEXICAN ARMY AT SAN ANTONIO.


The day was almost spent when, from a slight hill, they came in sight
of San Antonio, the setting sun gilding the tops of the church
steeples, and making the sluggish river appear like a stream of gold.

"No white mustang yet," said Dan. "I reckon we might as well give up
the chase and go right into the city."

"Not yet!" cried Poke Stover, pointing with his hand to the
northwestward. "Thar ye are, Dan!"

Dan looked in the direction, and in a patch of cottonwoods made out a
white object, moving slowly along. It was the mustang they were after,
so tired out that he could scarcely move from one spot to the next.

"We've got him now!" ejaculated the youth, enthusiastically. "And just
as I was ready to give up, too! Come on!"

Away he swept, with all the quickness of which his own wearied steed
was capable, and Poke Stover followed him. The white mustang saw them
coming, and set off into the timber on a feeble run.

The course of the pursued creature was around the northern approach to
San Antonio and then toward the Medina River. Many times they thought
to give up the chase, but then the white mustang seemed so near and so
ready to drop that they kept on until the river bank was gained. Here
the mustang disappeared into a pine brake; and it may be as well to
add, right here, that neither the Radburys nor Poke Stover ever saw him
again.

"Where is he?" asked Dan, a few minutes after the animal had
disappeared. "Do you think he leaped into the water?"

"I heard a splash," answered the old frontiersman. "There it goes
again." He tried to pierce the darkness with his eyes. "There is
something over yonder, that---- Whoopee, Dan, look!"

There was no need for Poke Stover to call the boy's attention to what
was on the other side of the Medina, for Dan was already looking, "with
all eyes," as the saying is. He had made out a number of Mexican
cavalrymen, moving up and down along the west bank, and now he noted
two pieces of artillery, which the cannoneers were trying to run out on
two rafts moored close at hand.

"The Mexican army, as sure as you are born!" cried Stover, in an
excited whisper. "Lad, we have made an important discovery. They must
be bound for Bexar!"

"Yes, and there are thousands of them," answered Dan. His heart was
beating so rapidly that he could scarcely speak. "Poke, what had we
best do?"

"Find out what their game is, first, and then ride back to Bexar as
fast as our mustangs can make it. If the garrison isn't warned, there
will surely be a great slaughter."

There was a stiff norther blowing, making the swollen stream rough and
dangerous to cross, and the Mexicans were consulting among themselves
as to how they should proceed. With bated breath, the boy and the old
frontiersman watched every movement, and, at the same time, tried to
figure up mentally how many Mexicans there were.

"At least a thousand," said Poke Stover, but, as we know, he was
mistaken; the force of the enemy numbered nearly seven times that many,
although, to be sure, they were not all in that immediate vicinity.

"We will cross the river and investigate," said one of the officers,
presently, and a large flat-bottomed boat was brought around and a
dozen soldiers leaped into it.

"We had better get out now," whispered Poke Stover, and turned his pony
to ride away from the river bank.

"Halt! Who goes?" came the cry, in Spanish, from one of the Mexican
guards.

"We are discovered," whispered Dan. "Come on!"

He turned away from the river bank and dove straight into the pine
brake. Then came a shot of warning, but the Mexican fired high, not
daring to take aim for fear of hitting a friend.

The shot caused a commotion, and soon Dan and Stover felt that they
were being followed. They tried to make their mustangs move on a run,
but the animals could not be urged farther.

"They will catch us, sure," gasped the boy, as the steps of the enemy
sounded nearer and nearer. "What shall we do?"

"Move to the right, and we'll see if we can't throw them off the
trail," answered Poke Stover.

To the right there was a slight hollow, filled with mesquite-trees and
bushes, and beyond this was a sandy plain covered with cacti. But of
the latter both were ignorant.

Down into the hollow they dove, their horses glad enough of the chance
to get a drink at the pool among the bushes. Under the mesquite-trees
they halted, and Stover went back to reconnoitre.

The scout was gone for fully quarter of an hour, and came back
chuckling softly to himself.

"We threw 'em nicely," he said. "We are safe now, providin' we don't
make too much noise."

"Then let us go on, Poke. We must carry the news to Bexar."

"It's funny there are no scouts around," was the old frontiersman's
comment. "They ought to be on the watch." But none of the Texan
soldiers were on guard, the greater portion of them being in attendance
at a Mexican fandango in the town, never suspecting the attack so close
at hand. Santa Anna heard of this fandango, and would have pushed
forward to capture San Antonio at once, but could not get his army
across the Medina River.

Leaving the pool, Dan and the frontiersman ascended to the plain, and
presently found themselves among the cacti. This was anything but
pleasant, and they had to pick their way with great care in the
darkness, and even then their steeds often refused to budge, so prickly
were the plants. It was almost morning when they arrived in sight of
the _jacals_, or huts, which dotted the outskirts of the city.

The pair at once sought out the commander of the garrison,
Lieutenant-Colonel William B. Travis, who was still sleeping. Travis
was a dashing young soldier of twenty-eight, a lawyer by profession,
and a native of North Carolina. The commander was "red-hot" for
independence, and one who never gave up, as we shall soon see.

"So you wish to see me," he said to Stover, whom he had met before.
"It's rather an early visit."

"I have to report that a large body of Mexicans are approaching the
town," answered the old frontiersman, saluting in true military style.
"Young Radbury here and myself were down along the Medina, when we
spotted them trying to bring a couple of cannon over on a raft."

"Mexican soldiers?" exclaimed the lieutenant-colonel. "You are certain
of this?"

"We are."

"How many of them do you think?"

"At least a thousand."

The commander knit his brows in perplexity. "It is odd none of my
scouts have brought me word. But a fandango----" He broke off short, as
another officer came in. "What is it, Chester?"

"It is reported that some Mexican dragoons are in the vicinity,
colonel."

"These people here tell me a whole army is coming. Where did your
report come from?"

"The church steeple. The dragoons are in the vicinity of Prospect
Hill," went on the officer, mentioning a hill to the west of San
Antonio.

"I must have the particulars of this without delay," said the
commander, hurriedly; and while he questioned Stover and Dan he sent
for several scouts, who were hurried off to verify the reports. When
the scouts came back, they reported that Santa Anna's army was coming
straight for San Antonio, several thousand strong.

The whole city was at once thrown into a commotion, and it was felt
that the garrison could do little or nothing toward defending the
place.

"We are but a hundred and forty odd strong," said Lieutenant A. M.
Dickenson, one of the attachees of the garrison. "We cannot hold the
plaza, no matter how hard we try. Let us retreat to the Alamo, until we
can summon reinforcements."

The matter was hastily discussed, and it was decided to retreat to the
Alamo without delay. Later on, express riders were sent off for
help,--but help never came for those who fought so nobly and bitterly
to the very last.

The retreat from the town to the mission was necessarily a rapid one,
for Santa Anna was advancing with all possible speed. Few stores could
be taken along, but as the garrison swept across the plain lying
between the city and the mission, they came upon a herd of cattle,
numbering thirty-six heads, and drove these before them into the
mission's courtyard.

"Let us go with the soldiers!" cried Dan, who was as excited as
anybody. "If there is a battle ahead it will be all foolishness to
attempt to look for Carlos Martine."

"Well, lad, I'm willing," replied Stover. "But I don't want to get you
into trouble."

"I'll risk the trouble, Poke; come on," and on they went after the
garrison. It was not long before they reached the soldiers, who were
just rounding up the cattle mentioned, and in this operation the two
assisted.

It was felt that the soldiers might be besieged in the Alamo for quite
some time, so as soon as the cattle were rounded up some of the men
visited the near-by houses, and collected all the stores at hand,
including a number of bushels of wheat and some dried fruits.

In the meantime Santa Anna's army had marched into San Antonio, and
taken possession. This done, the general held a consultation with his
leading officers, and sent out a flag of truce toward the mission.

"Flag of truce," announced one of the guards.

"Very well, we'll see what they demand," said Lieutenant-Colonel
Travis, and despatched Major Morris and Captain Marten to hold the
interview.

"General Santa Anna demands the immediate surrender of the mission,"
said the official sent out by the Mexican president.

"We will convey your message to our commander," replied the major of
the Texans, and withdrew.

Travis received the message with all the quiet dignity for which he was
noted.

"I will send him his answer at once," he replied, and ordered a
cannon-shot to be fired over the heads of the Mexican army.

This threw the Mexicans into a rage, and they quickly hung a blood-red
flag from the tower of the San Fernando Church in San Antonio. This
flag meant "no quarter," and, as it went up, several cannon-shots were
aimed at the Alamo; and thus was the battle begun.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

WITHIN THE WALLS OF THE MISSION.


The Alamo church, the principal building of the mission, was built in
the form of a cross, of rough stone, with walls several feet thick. At
the time of the battle which was to witness its downfall the centre of
the structure was roofless, but the ends were well covered. The sides
of the church were over twenty feet high, and the windows were
exceedingly narrow, for the building had been built to resist attacks
by the Indians. It faced both the river and San Antonio proper.

Attached to the left wing of the church was a large square called the
convent yard, with walls of heavy stone sixteen feet high. Spread out
in front of this yard, and beyond it, was the convent, two stories
high, and nearly two hundred feet long. In front of the convent was a
long and broad plaza, covering over two acres, and surrounded by walls
at either end and by the convent in the rear, and a house and wall in
the front. On the right of the plaza was a small prison and a gateway,
and from the corner of the prison there was a stockade of cedar logs
extending to the nearest corner of the church.

For this extensive fortress, if such we may call it, Lieutenant Travis
had less than twenty cannon, and the construction of the place was such
that but few of the pieces could be placed to advantage, and even then
hardly any of the soldiers knew how to do any effective firing.

Next in command to Travis was Colonel James Bowie, already mentioned in
these pages, and among the best of the fighters was Davy Crockett,
celebrated as a hunter and trapper, who had come down to Texas, with
twelve other Tennesseans, about three weeks before the arrival of Santa
Anna. Crockett carried with him his favourite rifle, "Betsy," and as a
fighter on this memorable occasion proved a whole host in himself.

"We'll whip 'em," said Crockett, confidently. "They can't stand up
against real Americans."

"You're right, Davy," answered Bowie. "An American who isn't equal to a
dozen greasers isn't fit to live." And so the talk ran on from one to
another of the garrison. Once Crockett came to Dan, and eyed him
curiously.

"You're rather a young soldier boy," he observed.

"Yes, sir, but I can shoot."

"Can you bring down a bird on the wing?"

"Yes, he can, and he has done it lots of times," put in Poke Stover.

"If that's so, he's all right," said Crockett.

Santa Anna did not make an immediate attack on the Alamo, for the
reason that all of his troops had not yet arrived, and because he
wished to give his soldiers a little rest after the long journey
northward. He ordered General Castrillon to knock down some of the old
houses near the river, and construct a bridge with the timbers.

"They are going to build a bridge!" was the cry that went through the
Alamo.

"A bridge? Where?" asked Crockett, and, when told, he smiled, and
patted his rifle. "Let 'em try it!"

The Mexicans did try, and soon a detachment of at least a hundred were
at work. About forty of the garrison, led by Bowie and Crockett, opened
fire upon the workers, and at least a dozen were killed.

"Down they go!" was the cry. "Give 'em another round!" And again the
rifles cracked at a lively rate. With thirty killed outright, and a
number badly wounded, the Mexicans left the river in a great hurry, and
hid in the neighbouring houses.

On February 24th, Travis sent out a strong appeal for assistance. "I am
besieged by a thousand or more of Mexicans, under Santa Anna," he
wrote. "I have sustained a continual bombardment for twenty-four hours,
and have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded a surrender at
discretion; otherwise the garrison is to be put to the sword if the
place is taken. I have answered the summons with a cannon-shot, and our
flag still waves proudly from the walls. _I shall never surrender, or
retreat!_" Could anything be more unflinchingly patriotic than that?

This appeal was followed by another, and a despatch was sent to Colonel
Fannin, at Goliad, asking him to bring reinforcements without delay.

"They are drawing in closer to us," said Poke to Dan, on the morning of
the 25th, as the two mounted one of the walls for a survey of the
situation. Far off, a portion of the Mexican army could be distinctly
seen.

"A division of the soldiers is approaching with some cannon," answered
the youth. He was right, and presently Santa Anna attempted to plant a
battery three hundred yards south of the gateway to the plaza of the
mission.

"Shall we allow that?" asked the Texan commander, while the Mexican
soldiers were coming up.

"No! No!" came back the cry. "Down with the Mexicans!" And in less than
five minutes the garrison was pouring through the gateway and out on
the plain beyond. The sharpshooters were in front, and so deadly were
their aims that the enemy was speedily forced to retreat, dragging
their cannon with them.

"Hurrah! They are running!" shouted the Texans, joyfully. This second
repulse made them more determined to resist than ever.

But when the following morning came, it was seen that Santa Anna had
taken advantage of the darkness and planted the battery, anyway, and so
well was it protected that none of the guns from the Alamo could reach
it. But the sharpshooters under Crockett watched the gunners, and one
Mexican was shot dead while in the very act of discharging a shot at
the plaza gate.

"It looks as if we might hold this place for an indefinite period,"
said Dan, on the day following. "That is, if we don't fall short of
provisions."

"The meat we drove in will last us for some time, lad," answered
Stover. "And they have found a lot of grain in one of the friar's
houses. But about holding the place, that's a question. We are only
about a hundred and fifty strong. What if Santa Anna storms the place
some night, with several thousand men? We'll all be put to the bay'net
afore sunrise."

"Do you really think he'll do such a barbarous thing, Poke?"

"Think it? I know it. He's one of the most bloodthirsty Mexicans a man
ever met. To surrender to him would be foolish. We've got to do as
Travis says, fight or die."

"Then I'll fight,--and to the bitter end," answered the boy, earnestly.
The enthusiasm of those around him had entered his soul, and he had
forgotten the meaning of the word fear.

As one day and another passed, Santa Anna's army increased in size, and
he succeeded in planting many other batteries around the Alamo. The
bombarding was continual, yet but few of the Texans suffered from this,
being well protected by the heavy stone walls of the mission.

On the first of March, when the garrison was much worn by constant
guard duty, there was a commotion during the night. At first it was
thought that the Mexicans had begun an attack, but soon it was
discovered that the newcomers were Texans. They numbered thirty-two men
from Gonzales, who had stolen through the Mexican lines with scarcely
any difficulty.

"Henry Parker!" cried Dan, as he recognized his friend in the crowd. "I
never dreamed of seeing you here."

"I couldn't stay behind, after I read Travis's appeal for help,"
answered Henry Parker. "I guess a lot more of our men are coming, too."
But in this Parker was mistaken; none others arrived at the ill-fated
place. Colonel Fannin started from Goliad with three hundred men and a
few pieces of artillery, but his ammunition wagon broke down, he had no
rations but a little rice and dried beef, and at the river his cannon
got stuck and could not be gotten across. So the party returned whence
it had come.

Henry Parker and the others had come in on Monday night, and by Tuesday
the last of Santa Anna's troops arrived at San Antonio. Following this
came three days in which but little was done upon either side.

"This looks as if the Mexicans were going to give up trying to take the
place," remarked Dan to Stover, as both rested in one of the side rooms
of the convent on a litter of straw.

"Don't worry, lad; it may be the calm afore the storm," was the answer.
"Sumthin' is bound for to happen soon, hear me!"

"If it doesn't, I'll be for going home," went on Dan. "I believe I can
get through the Mexican lines just as well as Henry Parker and those
others."

"It would be risky, Dan, mighty risky." Poke Stover puffed away
thoughtfully at the corncob pipe he was smoking. "We missed it
altogether on the white mustang and on Carlos Martine, didn't we?"

"Yes. I would like to know if Martine is still in San Antonio."

"Like as not--and hobnobbing with some of them Mexican officers, too.
Well, he sha'n't have your pap's land, and that's all there is about
it."

So the talk ran on, man and boy hardly knowing how to put in their time
when not on guard duty. At first the mission had proved of much
interest, with its quaint carvings and curious decorations, but now
even this was beginning to pall.

On Saturday Santa Anna called a counsel of war, and at this it was
decided that a general assault should be made upon the Alamo at
daybreak on Sunday. The assaulting troops numbered twenty-five hundred
against a pitiful one hundred and eighty-two Texans!--and were divided
into four columns, the first of which was under the command of General
Cos, the same Mexican who had surrendered to the Texans but a short
time before.

Each column of the attacking party was furnished with ropes,
scaling-ladders, crowbars, and axes, as well as with their ordinary
military weapons. As the soldiers advanced, the cavalry were drawn up
in a grand circle around the Alamo, so that no Texans might escape. In
the meantime the blood-red flag of "no quarter" was still flying high
from the Mexican camp, and now the band struck up the Spanish
quickstep, "Deguelo," or "Cut-throat," as an inspiration to the
soldiers to have no mercy on the rebels!




CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FALL OF THE ALAMO.


"The enemy are upon us!"

This cry, ringing clearly throughout the Alamo, aroused everybody to
action, and hither and thither ran the soldiers to their various points
of duty,--some in uniform, and others just as they had leaped up from
their couches.

"Are they really coming?" demanded Henry Parker, who had been sleeping
beside Dan, in one of the rooms of the convent.

"I reckon they are, Henry," was the quick response, and up leaped the
youth, and ran, gun in hand, to where Poke Stover was doing guard duty.

"Are they coming, Poke?"

"Yes, Dan, and plenty of 'em, too. They are divided into several
divisions."

There was no time to say more, for already one of the divisions,
commanded by Colonel Duque, was attacking the northern wall. Here
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis commanded in person. The commander was
bareheaded, and carried a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.

"Now, boys, give it to them hot!" he shouted. "Don't let them get over
the wall. Fire to kill! Fire to save your own lives!" And then the
cannon belched forth, followed by a crack-cracking of the smaller
firearms. The aim of the Texans was so deadly that the column was
repulsed for the moment, and Colonel Duque was seriously wounded.

By this time the divisions to attack the other sides of the mission had
come up. As one column tried to raise their scaling-ladders, Davy
Crockett threw his coonskin cap at them in defiance, and laid one of
the officers low with a shot from his trusty "Betsy." Fifty other shots
rang out, and the morning air became heavy with the smoke of rifles and
cannon.

"We must beat 'em back!" cried Stover, who was close to Crockett, and
as the old hunter blazed away so did the frontiersman and Dan, and the
youth had the satisfaction of seeing the Mexican he had aimed at go
down, rope and gun in hand, shot through the ankle.

The fighting was now incessant on all sides, but gradually the Mexicans
concentrated on the northern wall. They were yelling like so many
demons, and their officers urged them forward by threats and sword
blows, until the first rank was fairly wedged against the stone wall of
the mission. A cannon belched forth, doing fearful havoc, but those in
front could not retreat because of those pushing behind them, and in a
twinkle one Mexican soldier was piled above another, until the top of
the wall was gained, and, as one authority states, they came "tumbling
over it like sheep," falling, in some cases, directly on the bodies of
the Texans below.

"The convent yard is taken!" was the cry. "To the convent! To the
hospital!" And as quickly as it could be done the Texans left the yard.

In the crowd were Dan, Stover, and Henry Parker. As the latter turned,
a Mexican under-officer aimed his pistol at the young man.

"Down, Henry!" yelled Dan, but, before Parker could drop, the pistol
was discharged and Henry Parker fell like a lump of lead, shot through
the brain.

The sudden death of his friend made Dan spellbound, and he gazed at the
corpse in horror. Then he felt his arm seized by Poke Stover, and in a
minute more found himself being hurried toward the church.

"We can't do anything more," exclaimed the old frontiersman. "They
number ten to one, and more. We are doomed, unless we can manage to
escape!"

"Poor Henry!" murmured Dan, when he could speak. "What will his
mother----"

"Yes, yes, lad, I know; but we can't talk about it now. Come on."

"To where?"

"Anywhere, away from that howling, raging mob of greasers. They'll show
us no quarter."

"Travis is dead!" said somebody who was passing them. "They fairly
hacked him to pieces!"

As Stover and Dan ran into the church building, there was a loud report
in the courtyard. The Mexicans had captured one of the cannon, and
turned it upon the long ward of the hospital building, and the
grape-shot laid fifteen Texans low. The Texans were now fighting from
room to room of the convent, and the whole place looked like a
slaughter-pen.

"To the church!" came the cry. "To the church! Let the last stand be in
the church!" The cry was taken up on all sides, and every Texan who
could do so ran for the church with all possible speed. In the
meantime, the stockade had been carried, and fresh Mexican soldiers
were pouring over this in droves.

At the entrance to the church stood Davy Crockett, clubbed rifle in
hand, and with the blood pouring from a wound in the head.

"Rally around me, boys!" he shouted. "Don't give up! We are bound to
whip 'em yet!" And as the first of the Mexicans came on, he laid two of
them low with one mighty blow of his favourite "Betsy," that cracked
the rifle in half. And, as the rifle fell, so did lion-hearted Davy
Crockett, to rise no more.

With the fall of Crockett, the other Texans, especially those who had
emigrated from Tennessee, fought like demons, and soon the whole church
was so thick with smoke that scarcely one man could be told from
another. In a side apartment lay Bowie, suffering from a fall from a
platform, where he had been directing operations. As the Mexicans
swarmed into the room, Bowie raised himself up and fired his pistols.
Seeing this, the Mexicans retreated, and fired on him from behind the
door, killing him almost instantly.

It had been decided that, should the worst come to the worst, the
Texans must fire the powder-magazine located in one part of the church.
It was now seen that further resistance would be useless.

"The magazine!" came from half a dozen. "Blow the Mexicans up!"

"I will!" shouted back Major T. C. Evans, commander of the artillery,
and started forward with a firebrand for the purpose. The Mexicans,
however, saw the movement, and before Evans could go a dozen paces, a
score of guns were aimed at him, and he went down fairly riddled with
bullets.

"I'm shot!" cried Poke Stover, in the midst of the din and confusion,
and clapped his hand to his left shoulder. He had been leading Dan to a
rear apartment of the church, between overturned benches and sacks of
wheat and rice.

"Shot?" gasped the boy. "Where? Oh, I hope it isn't serious!"

"It's in the shoulder," and the old frontiersman gave a suppressed
groan.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"No! no! not now, Dan. Come, before it is too late."

"Where to?"

"Let us see if we can't hide from these bloodthirsty greasers. It is
worse than useless to stand up ag'in 'em longer!"

Again Stover caught hold of Dan, and the two pushed on through the
smoke and dust. Rifleshots still cracked out, and yells, screams, and
curses filled the air. The Alamo had fallen and now the Mexicans were
bent upon butchering every Texan who still remained alive. Out of the
whole gallant garrison not one man was spared!

Presently Dan and his companion entered a small room but a short
distance away from the powder-magazine. Here all was pitch-dark, as the
room contained no window. There were boxes and barrels stored here, but
for what purpose neither knew. Behind several of the boxes was a niche
about three feet square, and almost as deep.

"It's not much of a hidin'-place," said Stover, "but I reckon as how
it's better nor nothin'. Anyway, we can't do no more than try it. If
they root us out, we'll die game."

They squeezed themselves into the opening, Stover with many a supressed
groan over his wounded shoulder, which pained him not a little. Dan had
been struck in the side with a flying bit of masonry, and had an ugly
scratch under his arm in consequence, but just now he counted this as
little or nothing. The one thing was to escape with their lives. To
fight further would indeed have been sheer foolishness.

The din was gradually subsiding, and only the occasional yell of a
Texan being massacred in cold blood reached their ears. Dan could not
keep himself from shuddering. What a terrible Sunday morning! He
thought of the ranch home, and of his father and Ralph. Would he ever
see those loved ones again?

"Hush!" The warning came from Stover, and he placed his hand over
Ralph's mouth. Footsteps were approaching the little room.

"Hunt the rats out!" came in a rough Spanish voice. "Hunt them out!
Don't let one of them escape your bayonets!" And then several Mexican
soldiers entered the room and began to rummage among the boxes and
barrels.




CHAPTER XXX.

ESCAPING TO THE RIVER.


When the soldiers entered the little room, Dan felt inclined to give
himself and his companion up as lost. He felt that the enemy would
surely look into the niche, for the officer meant that not a hole or
corner should be missed.

When first coming in he had loaded a pistol he carried,--his gun had
been lost in the fight in the courtyard,--and he had done the same for
the old frontiersman. Boy and man held the pistols ready for use. They
did not mean to give up without a final struggle at close quarters.

But just as one of the soldiers took hold of a big packing-case that
hid the pair from view, there was a commotion in the church proper,
followed by the discharge of several rifles. Three Texans had made a
last stand, and were fighting back to back.

"Come, let us see what that means," cried the Mexican officer, and ran
from the little room, followed by his companions.

Dan felt relieved for the moment, yet he knew only too well that those
Mexicans, or others, would soon be coming to give the place a thorough
overhauling.

"They will kill us----" he began, when, on turning, his foot struck an
iron ring in the flooring of the niche. He felt of the ring and soon
became convinced that it was attached to a trap-door of some kind.

"If it's a trap-door it must lead to a cellar!" said Stover, hurriedly.
"I hope to heaven it does. Try it, lad, an' be quick!"

Both crawled from the narrow opening, and Dan pulled upon the ring with
all of his strength. Up came a trap-door about two feet square. Beneath
this was a space of inky darkness.

"Don't mind the dark," went on the old frontiersman. "Let me go fust,
and be sure an' shet the trap after ye!"

[Illustration: "HE BEGAN TO LOWER HIMSELF INTO THE HOLE."]

He began to lower himself into the hole, and his feet struck a flight
of stone steps. Down this he sped and soon reached a narrow passageway
lined with rough stone, from which the moisture oozed into pools at his
feet.

"I'll try to put them off the scent," said Dan, and drew up one of the
boxes in such a fashion that, when the trap fell into place, the box
came down on top of it. Then he hastened to join Stover.

"I don't believe any of our soldiers knew of this secret passage," said
Stover. "I wonder where it runs to?"

"Perhaps it doesn't run to anywhere," replied Dan. "Go slow, or you may
dash your brains out on the rough wall."

They moved along cautiously. The passageway was not over six feet in
height and from three to four feet wide. It was uneven, but soon they
found themselves going downward and away from the church and convent,
as they learned by the muffled noises overhead.

"This is some secret passage put in by the friars, years ago," was
Stover's comment, after several hundred feet had been passed. "Like as
not they built it to escape in case the Injuns attacked 'em."

"Well, if they did, it must lead to some place of safety," answered
Dan. "I sincerely hope it does."

Stover was still suffering great pain, and he had lost so much blood
that he could scarcely walk.

"I must rest and try to bind up that wound," he panted, and sank in a
dead faint at Dan's feet.

Dan could do nothing in the darkness, and now he resolved to risk a
light, and lit the stump of a candle which he usually carried with him
when on a hunting expedition. By these feeble rays he bound up the
wound as well as he was able and also attended to his own hurt. Then,
as Stover gave a long sigh and opened his eyes, he blew out the light.

"Don't make a light ag'in," were the frontiersman's first words. "It
may cost us our lives. We will keep still and lay low," and then he
became partly unconscious again.

The hours which followed were like some horrible nightmare to Dan,
whose nerves had been wrought up to the top notch of excitement by the
scenes in the courtyard and the church. From a distance he heard calls
and groans and an occasional shot. The Alamo had fallen and now Santa
Anna was himself upon the scene, to make certain that not one of the
Texans should escape. "I told them what to expect," he is reported to
have said, and then, when five men were brought before him, and his own
officer, General Castrillon, interceded for the Texans, he gave
Castrillon a lecture for his soft-heartedness, and the prisoners were
speedily put to the bayonet. Such was Santa Anna, now high in power,
but who was destined in time to be shorn of all rank and to die in
bitter obscurity. His last act of atrocity at the Alamo was to have the
bodies of his victims piled up with layers of brushwood and burned.

The hours passed, how slowly or swiftly neither Dan nor Poke Stover
knew. No one came to disturb them, and at length the boy sank into a
doze due to his exhausted condition.

When he awoke he found the frontiersman also aroused. "I hope the sleep
did ye good, Dan," he said.

"Was I asleep? I did not know it. How long have we been here?"

"I can't say."

"Have you heard anything more of the Mexicans?"

"Only a faint sound or two, comin' from behind. I reckon we had best
push on and see whar this passage leads to."

They arose, to find their legs stiff from the dampness of the
passageway. At least three hundred yards were passed, and still there
seemed to be no end.

"One satisfaction, we are gittin' farther away from the church,"
observed Stover. "I can't hear nuthin' now."

"Nor I, Poke. But did you notice how wet the passageway is getting?"

"I did, lad. We must be nigh to a spring or else the river."

They went on again, but not for long. A hundred feet further and they
walked into water up to their ankles.

"We are blocked," groaned Dan. "What if we can't get out this way?"

"I reckon ye had best strike another light."

This was no easy matter with their clothing and everything else so
damp. But finally the light was struck, and they pushed on into the
passageway until the water was up to their waists.

"We can't go much farther," said Dan soberly. "Do you think this leads
to the river?"

"I do; but I can't say how far off the stream is. Let us go a little
farther."

A couple of rods were covered, and they sank down until the water was
up to Dan's neck.

"If I go any further I'll have to swim," he observed, and just then the
candle slipped from his hand and fell into the water, leaving them in
total darkness.

As there seemed nothing else to do, they moved back to the nearest dry
spot and sank down to rest and to consider the matter.

"We can stay here for several days, if we wish," said Stover. "We have
got enough to drink."

"Yes, but I've had nothing to eat since last night."

"Neither have I. But I'd rather go hungry nor fall into them greasers'
hands."

"If the river is ahead we ought to see some light, Poke."

"That's true,--if it's daylight outside. But it may be night."

"Well, we can watch."

And they did, first one going down into the water, and then the other.
It was indeed night, and it yet lacked several hours to daylight.

At last Dan came back with a smile on his face.

"I swam a short distance down the passageway," he exclaimed, "and I saw
a faint light. I am sure it leads to the river."

"Then let us try our luck."

"Can you swim with that wounded shoulder?"

"I can swim with one hand, lad, although I allow it will be slower work
than with two hands."

"Then come on. If we can get away, the sooner the better," returned the
boy, and led the way into the water once more. They walked as far as
they could and then began to swim. Stover insisted on taking the lead.

"I'm used to scoutin'," he said. "We don't want to run in no hornet's
nest."

The water now reached almost to the top of the passageway, and they had
to move with caution for fear of striking their heads. The light grew
clearer and clearer as they advanced, until Stover announced that he
could see the river bank ahead, with some roots of trees and bushes
hanging down in the passageway.

"Keep back, and I'll take a look out," he whispered, and drew slowly to
the end of the opening. He was gone several minutes, during which time
Dan supported himself by clinging to a jagged rock sticking out from
overhead.

"Come on back; we can't escape jest yet," whispered Poke Stover, on his
return. "Come," and he led the way up the passageway again.

"But why can't we escape?" asked Dan, impatiently.

"Because there is a whole company of Mexican soldiers encamped at the
very spot where this passageway leads into the stream," was the answer
that filled the youth with dismay.




CHAPTER XXXI.

SOMETHING ABOUT GENERAL SAM HOUSTON.


The Alamo had fallen, and now it was necessary to figure up results. As
said before, all of the Texans, about one hundred and eighty in number,
had been slaughtered, while the loss to the Mexicans was variously
estimated at from three to five hundred. The sights about the mission
were truly horrible, and never forgotten by those who witnessed them.

It must be said, in all frankness, that the defence of the Alamo was a
mistake, for those gallant men must have known that they could not hold
out against the overwhelming forces of Santa Anna. And they did not
remain there because all escape was cut off, for they could have gotten
away just as easily as the reinforcements from Gonzales got in. It was
not until the final days of the siege that the Mexicans drew around
them closely.

Why, then, did they remain?

The answer is one that every American boy and man ought to remember
with pride. They remained because of the _principle_ involved. They had
staked their lives for liberty or death, and they waged the contest to
the bitter end.

The slaughter of the Alamo garrison thrilled the hearts of the Texans
as they had never been thrilled before. Those who had been doubtful
before were now doubtful no longer. "We must be independent," they
said, "absolutely independent. We must raise a regular army. We must
not be divided into factions, but must fight as one man, and under one
leader." And then they prepared to strike one grand blow from which
Santa Anna should never be able to recover.

But of none of these things did Dan or Poke Stover think as they rested
in the dark passageway just beyond the reach of the water from the
river. Both were cold and hungry and almost exhausted, yet there was
nothing at hand to eat, and rest seemed out of the question.

"We must try to escape, as soon as it grows dark," said the old
frontiersman, and all through that long, weary day they waited and
watched for the light to disappear up the passageway. At last it was
gone, and they swam again to the river, making as little noise as
possible.

At the opening were a number of bushes, and, as they emerged among
these, they heard the footsteps of a Mexican sentinel not a dozen feet
off. At a distance was the camp, with several fires burning brightly.

Suddenly Stover caught Dan by the arm, and pointed to a tree
overhanging the stream. Under the tree was a long canoe with the paddle
lying at the bottom.

"We'll set the canoe adrift, and float down the stream with it,"
whispered Stover, so softly that Dan could scarcely hear him. "It's our
one chance."

They waited until the sentinel had turned to walk to the other end of
his station, then slipped down and swam over to the canoe. It was drawn
partly up over some marsh-grass, and they easily dislodged it. Then
they turned it down the stream and kept along with it as it floated,
their heads up, on the side opposite to the Mexican camp.

They expected that the Mexican sentinel would discover the floating
canoe, but such was not the fact until they were twenty yards from the
mouth of the passageway. Then the Mexican turned and stared stupidly.

"The canoe has drifted off," he murmured to himself, in Spanish. "Well,
it is not mine, so why should I care? Let the owner take care of his
property." And he resumed his walk.

As soon as they were out of the range of the light from the camp-fires,
Poke Stover crawled into the canoe and took up the paddle.

"Stay where you are, Dan," he said. "They needn't have but one of us to
shoot at," and while Dan clung fast to the rear of the craft, Stover
paddled with all the vigour at his command, which was considerable,
considering his condition.

In ten minutes they were out of rifle-range, and safe, and then the
frontiersman sent the craft ashore, and he and Dan climbed to the river
bank. "Thank God, we are out of that!" exclaimed Stover, fervidly, and
Dan uttered a hearty Amen.

"I think the fust thing we want to do is to git sumthin' to eat,"
remarked Stover, after they had rested for a bit. "I'm that hungry I
could eat most anything."

"I don't know this location at all, Poke. Where are we?"

"Not many miles from the Gonzales road, lad. About a mile back is Nat
Woodver's cabin. I reckon as how we'll git a warm welcome there, if Nat
is able to give it to us."

They set out in the darkness, and reached the cabin half an hour later.
They found that the settler was away, to join the army; but his wife
and daughters were home, and they speedily did all they could for our
friends, giving them a hot supper, and dressing the wounds as skilfully
as trained nurses. They had heard of the fall of the Alamo, but had not
imagined that all of the garrison were slaughtered.

His awful experience had driven Carlos Martine entirely out of Dan's
head, and all the youth thought of now was to rejoin his father and his
brother.

"They will worry about us, Poke," he said. "More than likely they will
think us dead, for they must know that all of the Texans in and about
San Antonio went to the Alamo when Santa Anna appeared."

"You are right, lad; we'll steer for the ranch the first thing in the
morning," answered Stover, and this they did, riding two ponies that
Mrs. Woodver loaned them.

When the pair reached Gonzales they found the town wild with
excitement. The news of the disaster of the Alamo had just come in, and
by the deaths of the thirty-two men from Gonzales who had entered the
mission shortly before it fell, twenty women were left widows and twice
as many children fatherless. One woman went crazy, and rushed about the
streets crying for the Mexicans to come and kill her, too. It is
needless to add that the Parkers were deeply affected over the loss of
Henry.

As Dan and Stover were about to start for the trail leading up the
Guadalupe, they met Amos Radbury riding post-haste into Gonzales.

"My son!" cried the father, joyfully. "And Poke, too! I was afraid you
were dead!"

"We came close enough to it, father," answered Dan. And then he and the
frontiersman told their stories in detail.

"I would have gone with the men from Gonzales," said Lieutenant
Radbury, "but I hated to leave Ralph home with nobody but Pompey. These
are certainly terrible times. I wonder what Santa Anna will do next?"

"Perhaps he'll march on Gonzales," said the youth. "It looks as if he
meant to wipe out everybody in Texas."

"The whole State is aroused now. It must and will be a fight to the
finish. If the Texans are whipped, every ranch will go up in flames,
and every man will be butchered."

The party returned to Gonzales, for Amos Radbury did not want to return
to the ranch, now he knew that Dan was safe.

While the siege of the Alamo was in progress, the General Convention of
Texas, which had been called, met at Washington, and a declaration of
independence was adopted, and General Sam Houston was unanimously
reГ«lected commander-in-chief, with absolute authority over all army
forces, regular and volunteer. Heretofore, Houston had been little more
than commander in name; now it was felt upon all sides that he must be
given the absolute authority that the situation demanded. All other
appointments which had been made in a haphazard, irregular way were
abolished.

For the work that was ahead no better selection of a leader than that
of General Sam Houston could have been made. Houston was born in
Virginia, in 1793, and at the age of nineteen he enlisted for the war
of 1812, becoming an ensign, and fought with such courage that he and
General Jackson became warm friends. At thirty years of age he became a
member of Congress, and five years later he was made governor of
Tennessee, and was one of the most popular men in the West. He was up
for reГ«lection, when some unfortunate domestic difficulties overtook
him, and he resigned his position and plunged into the wilderness,
taking up his abode, later on, with some friendly Indians with whom he
had hunted years before. These Indians elected him one of their great
chiefs, and in return for this, Houston went to Washington for them and
exposed a number of Indian agents who had been defrauding the red men
out of the allowances made to them by the government. For this these
Indians swore undying friendship, and they called Houston their
best-beloved brother to the day of his death. Because of his life among
the red men Houston frequently attired himself in an Indian blanket and
stuck in his hair the feathers of a chief, a custom that was often
followed by other mighty hunters of this portion of our country.

Besides being governor of Tennessee, Houston had been a lawyer of
well-known reputation, and as such had closely studied legal affairs
relating to the United States, Texas, and Mexico. He saw, long before
war was declared, that Texas must one day strike for freedom, and he
resolved, after leaving the Indians, to throw in his fortunes with the
Texans, or Texians, as some have called them. As soon as he arrived he
took hold, in his own peculiar way, of certain public affairs, and at a
meeting at Nacogdoches he was elected commander of the forces of
eastern Texas. This was directly after the opening of hostilities at
Gonzales.

Had Houston been allowed to act as he wished from the start, it is
possible that the slaughter at the Alamo might have been avoided, but,
as mentioned before, matters, politically, were very much mixed, and
there were frequent clashes of authority. Some secondary leaders took
the liberty to do about as they saw fit, and at one time it looked as
if Houston's command would fall to pieces. In the midst of this came
trouble with the Indians, but this was patched up by the man who had
lived so long among them and who understood them thoroughly.

As the Convention which had reГ«lected Houston commander-in-chief of the
army was in session, the President was handed a letter from
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis, making a last appeal for help. As the letter
was read there was wild excitement, and then it was moved that the
meeting adjourn and the members march in a body to the relief of the
Alamo.