now flaunted its folds very near to him. He
could not repress a shiver.

"I am here," he replied, "because some one who has power has told
General Santa Anna that I am not to be put to death."

"It is well for you, then," said Fernando, "that you have a friend of
such weight. It is a pity to die when one is so young and so straight
and strong as you. Ah, my young senor, the world is beautiful. Look how
green is the grass there by the river, and how the sun lies like gold
across it!"

Ned had noticed before the love of beauty that the humblest peon
sometimes had, and there was a certain touch of brotherly feeling
between him and this man, his jailer.

"The world is beautiful," said the boy, "and I am willing to tell you
that I have no wish to leave it."

"Nor I," said Fernando. "Why are the Texans so foolish as to oppose the
great Santa Anna, the most illustrious and powerful of all generals and
rulers? Did they not know that he would come and crush them, every one?"

Ned did not reply. The peon, in repose at least, had a gentle heart, and
the boy knew that Santa Anna was to him omnipotent and omniscient. He
turned his attention anew to the Alamo, that magnet of his thoughts. It
was standing quiet in the sun now. The defiant flag of the defenders,
upon which they had embroidered the word "Texas," hung lazily from the
staff.

The guards in the afternoon gave him some food and a jug of water, and
they also ate and drank upon the roof. They were yet amply content with
their task and their position there. No bullets could reach them. The
sunshine was golden and pleasant. They had established friendly
relations with the prisoner. He had not given them the slightest
trouble, and, before and about them, was spread the theater upon which a
mighty drama was passing, all for them to see. What more could be asked
by two simple peasants of small wants?

Ned was glad that they let him remain upon the roof. The Alamo drew his
gaze with a power that he could not break if he would. Since he was no
longer among the defenders he was eager to see every detail in the vast
drama that was now unfolding.

But the afternoon passed in inaction. The sun was brilliant and toward
evening turned to a deep, glowing red. It lighted up for the last time
the dim figures that stood on the walls of the Alamo. Ned choked as he
saw them there. He felt the premonition.

Urrea came upon the roof shortly before twilight. He was not sneering or
ir