“I certainly hope so,” said Travis.  “At any rate, I intend to send out another letter soon.  If the Texans are made to realize our situation they will surely come, no matter how far away they may be.”

“I hope they will,” said Crockett.  But Ned noticed that he did not seem to speak with any great amount of confidence.  Balancing everything as well as he could, he did not see how much help could be expected.  The Texan towns were tiny.  The whole fringe of Texan settlements was small.  The Texans were but fifty or sixty thousands against the seven or eight millions of Mexico, and now that they knew a great Mexican army was in Texas the scattered borderers would be hard put to it to defend themselves.  He did not believe that in any event they could gather a force great enough to cut its way through the coil of Santa Anna’s multitude.

But Travis’ faith in Bonham, at least, was justified.  The next night, about halfway between midnight and morning, in the darkest hour, a man scaled the wall and dropped inside the plaza.  It proved to be Bonham himself, pale, worn, covered with mud and dust, but bringing glad tidings.  Ned was present when he came into the church and was met by Travis.  Bowie, Crockett and Smith.  Only a single torch lighted up the grim little group.

“Fannin has left Goliad with 300 men and four cannon to join us,” Bonham said.  “He started five days ago, and he should be here soon.  With his rifles and big guns he’ll be able to cut his way through the Mexicans and enter the Alamo.”

“I think so, too,” said Travis, with enthusiasm.

But Ned steadily watched Bowie and Crockett.  They were the men of experience, and in matters such as these they had minds of uncommon penetration.  He noticed that neither of them said anything, and that they showed no elation.

Everybody in the Alamo knew the next day that Bonham had come from Fannin, and the whole place was filled with new hope.  As Ned reckoned, it was about one hundred and fifty miles from San Antonio de Bexar to Goliad; but, according to Bonham, Fannin had already been five days on the way, and they should hear soon the welcome thunder of his guns.  He eagerly scanned the southeast, in which direction lay Goliad, but the only human beings he saw were Mexicans.  No sound came to his ears but the note of a Mexican trumpet or the crack of a vaquero’s whip.

He was not the only one who looked and listened.  They watched that day and the next through all the bombardment and the more dangerous rifle fire.  But they never saw on the horizon the welcome flash from any of Fannin’s guns.  No sound that was made by a friend reached their ears.  The only flashes of fire they saw outside were those that came from the mouths of Mexican cannon, and the only sounds they heard beyond the Alamo were made by the foe.  The sun, huge, red and vivid, sank in the prairie and, as the shadows thickened over the Alamo, Ned was sure in his heart that Fannin would never come.