man, in a voice which made me
start, even at that moment of excitement and bustle. I looked at the
speaker, but could only see his back, for he had already plunged into
the thick of the fight, and was engaged with a party of Mexicans, who
defended themselves desperately. He fought like a man more anxious to
be killed than to kill, striking furiously right and left, but never
guarding a blow, though the Alcalde, who was by his side, warded off
several which were aimed at him.

By this time my men had scrambled up after me. I looked round to see
where our help was most wanted, and was about to lead them forward,
when I heard the voice of the Alcalde.

"Are you badly hurt, Bob?" said he in an anxious tone.

I glanced at the spot whence the voice came. There lay Bob Rock,
covered with blood, and apparently insensible. The Alcalde was
supporting his head on his arm. Before I had time to give a second
look I was hurried forward with the rest towards the centre of the
camp, where the fight was at the hottest.

About five hundred men, the pick of the Mexican army, had collected
round a knot of staff-officers, and were making a most gallant
defence. General Houston had attacked them with three hundred of our
people, but had not been able to break their ranks. His charge,
however, had shaken them a little, and, before they had time to
recover from it, I came up. Giving a wild hurrah, my men fired their
pistols, hurled them at their enemies' heads, and then springing over
the carcasses of the fallen, dashed like a thunderbolt into the broken
ranks of the Mexicans.

A frightful butchery ensued. Our men, who were for the most part, and
at most times, peaceable and humane in disposition, seemed converted
into perfect fiends. Whole ranks of the enemy fell under their knives.
Some idea may be formed of the horrible slaughter from the fact, that
the fight, from beginning to end, did not last above ten minutes, and
in that time nearly eight hundred Mexicans were shot or cut down. "No
quarter!" was the cry of the infuriated assailants: "Remember Alamo!
Remember Goliad! Think of Fanning, Ward!" The Mexicans threw
themselves on their knees, imploring mercy. "_Misericordia! Cuartel,
por el amor de Dios!_" shrieked they in heart-rending tones but their
supplications were not listened to, and every man of them would
inevitably have been butchered, had not General Houston and the
officers dashed in between the victors and the vanquished,