until about
midnight, when he spoke. I asked him what he wanted. 'Nothing,' he
replied with a sigh that seemed to rend his heart, and his eyes filled
with tears as he continued his 'Poor Kate of Nacogdoches; her words
were prophetic, Colonel,' Then he sang in a low voice,--

'But toom' cam' the saddle, all bluidy to see,
And hame cam' the steed, but hame never cam' he.'

"He spoke no more, and a few minutes afterward died. Poor Kate, who will
tell this to thee?"

The last entry in Crockett's diary bears date March fifth. It is as
follows:

"Pop, pop, pop! Bom, bom, bom! throughout the day.----No time for
memorandums now.----Go ahead!----Liberty and independence forever!"

Before daybreak the next morning, the final assault was made on the
Alamo, and when Santa Ana entered in person, after the terrible
butchery, only six men, among whom was Colonel Crockett, were found
alive. The Colonel stood alone in an angle of the fort, the barrel of
his broken rifle in his right hand, and in his left a huge Bowie knife
dripping blood. Across his forehead was a terrible gash, while around
him lay a barrier of dead Mexicans who had fallen at his hands. At his
feet lay the body of his friend Thimblerig with his knife driven to the
hilt in the throat of a Mexican, and his left hand clenched in his hair.

"General Castrillon was brave and not cruel, and disposed to save the
prisoners. He marched them up to that part of the fort where stood Santa
Ana and his murderous crew. The steady, fearless step and undaunted
tread of Colonel Crockett, on this occasion, together with the bold
demeanour of the hardy veteran, had a powerful effect on all present.
Nothing daunted, he marched up boldly in front of Santa Ana, and looked
him sternly in the face, while Castrillon addressed 'his
Excellency,'--'Sir, here are six prisoners I have taken alive; how shall
I dispose of them?' Santa Ana looked at Castrillon fiercely, flew into a
violent rage, and replied, 'Have I not told you before how to dispose of
them? Why do you bring them to me?' At the same time his brave officers
plunged their swords into the bosoms of their defenceless prisoners.
Colonel Crockett, seeing the act of treachery, instantly sprung like a
tiger at the ruffian chief, but before he could reach him a dozen swords
were sheathed in his indomitable heart; and he fell, and died without a
groan, a frown on his brow, and a smile of scorn and defiance on his
lips. Castrillo