Whatever may be said of the herded masses of the Mexican troops, the Mexican officers were full of courage.  They were always in advance, waving their swords and shouting to their men to come on.  Another silver gleam flashed through the gray light of the early morning, ran along the edges of swords and lances, and lingered for a moment over the dark walls 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 into slumber at such a moment?  Could such as Crockett and Bowie and Travis be blind 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 his lips.

“Nothing will stop them!” cried Santa Anna.  “The Texans cower before such a splendid force!  They will lay down their arms!”

Ned felt his body growing colder and colder, and there was a strange tingling at the roots of the hair.  Now the people upon the roofs were shouting their utmost, and the voices of many women united in one shrill, piercing cry.  But he never turned to look at them.  His eyes were always on the charging host which converged so fast upon the Alamo.

The trumpet blew another signal, and there was a crash so loud that it made Ned jump.  All the Mexican batteries had fired at once over the heads of their own troops at the Alamo.  While the gunners reloaded the smoke 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 the word, “Texas.”

The Mexican troops were coming close now.  The bands playing the Deguelo swelled to greater volume and the ground shook again as the Mexican artillery fired its second volley.  When the smoke drifted away again the Alamo itself suddenly burst into flame.  The Texan cannon at close range poured their shot and shell into the dense ranks of the Mexicans.  But piercing through the heavy thud of the cannon came the shriller and more deadly 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 them asleep, nor could anything on earth or under it frighten them into laying down their arms.

Ned began to shout, but only hoarse cries came from a dry throat through dry lips.  The great pulses in his throat were leaping again, and he was saying:  “The Texans!  The Texans!  Oh, the brave Texans!”

But nobody heard him.  Santa Anna, Filisola, Castrillon, Tolsa, Gaona and the other generals were leaning against the earthwork, absorbed in the tremendous spectacle that was passing before them.  The soldiers who were to guard the prisoner forgot him and they, too, were engrossed in the terrible and thrilling panorama of war.  Ned might have walked away, no one 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 upon them from the walls.  In a single glance aside he beheld the exultant look on the faces of Santa Anna and his generals die away, and he suddenly became conscious that the shrill shouting on the flat roofs of the houses had ceased.  But the Mexican cannon still poured a cloud of shot and shell over the heads of their men at the Alamo, and the troops went on.