an. Indeed, we were waiting for orders from the
Convention to undertake it."

"Then you fought without orders, father?"

"Well, yes, Antonia--in a way. Delays in war are as dangerous as in
love. We were surrounded by dragoons, who scoured the country in every
direction to prevent our foraging. San Antonio HAD to be taken. Soon
done was well done. On the third of December Colonel Milam stepped in
front of the ranks, and asked if two hundred of the men would go with
him and storm the city. The whole eleven hundred stepped forward, and
gave him their hands and their word. From them two hundred of the finest
marksmen were selected."

"I have to say that was a great scene, mi Roberto."

"The greater for its calmness, I think. There was no shouting, no
hurrahing, no obvious enthusiasm. It was the simple assertion of serious
men determined to carry out their object."

"And you stormed San Antonio with two hundred men, father?"

"But every man was a picked man. A Mexican could not show his head above
the ramparts and live. We had no powder and ball to waste; and I doubt
if a single ball missed its aim."

"A Mexican is like a Highland Scot in one respect," said Dare; "he
fights best with steel. They are good cavalry soldiers."

"There are no finer cavalry in the world than the horsemen from Santa
Fe, Dare. But with powder and ball Mexicans trust entirely to luck; and
luck is nowhere against Kentucky sharpshooters. Their balls very seldom
reached us, though we were close to the ramparts; and we gathered them
up by thousands, and sent them back with our double-Dupont powder. THEN
they did damage enough. In fact, we have taken the Alamo with Mexican
balls."

"Under what flag did you fight, Roberto?"

"Under the Mexican republican flag of eighteen twenty-four; but indeed,
Maria, I do not think we had one in the camp. We were destitute of
all the trappings of war--we had no uniforms, no music, no flags, no
positive military discipline. But we had one heart and mind, and one
object in view; and this four days' fight has shown what men can do, who
are moved by a single, grand idea."

The Senora lay upon a sofa; the doctor sat by her side. Gradually their
conversation became more low and confidential. They talked of their
sons, and their probable whereabouts; of all that the Senora and her
daughters had suffered from the disaffection of the servants; and the
attitude taken by Fray Ignatius. And the doctor noticed, without m