r,
and that their provisions were getting very low. The face of Ortiz grew
constantly more gloomy, and yet there was something of triumph in his
tone as he told the miserably anxious women with what desperate valor
the Americans were fighting; and how fatally every one of their shots
told.

On Saturday night, the fifth of March, he called Antonia aside, and
said, "My Senorita, you have a great heart, and so I speak to you. The
end is close. To-day the Mexicans succeeded in getting a large cannon
within gunshot of the Alamo, just where it is weakest. Senor Captain
Crockett has stood on the roof all day, and as the gunners have advanced
to fire it he has shot them down. A group of Americans were around him;
they loaded rifles and passed them to him quickly as he could fire them.
Santa Anna was in a fury past believing. He swore then 'by every saint
in heaven or hell' to enter the Alamo to-morrow. Senor Navarro says he
is raging like a tiger, and that none of his officers dare approach
him. The Senor bade me tell you that to-morrow night he will be here to
escort you to Gonzales; for no American will his fury spare; he knows
neither sex nor age in his passions. And when the Alamo falls, the
soldiers will spread themselves around for plunder, or shelter, and
this empty house is sure to attract them. The Senorita sees with her own
intelligence how things must take place."

"I understand, Captain. Will you go with us?"

"I will have the Jersey wagon ready at midnight. I know the horses.
Before sun-up we shall have made many miles."

That night as Antonia and her sister sat in the dark together, Antonia
said: "Isabel, tomorrow the Alamo will fall. There is no hope for the
poor, brave souls there. Then Santa Anna will kill every American."

"Oh, dear Antonia, what is to become of us? We shall have no home,
nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep. I think we shall die. Also, there is
mi madre. How I do pity her!"

"She is to be your care, Isabel. I shall rely on you to comfort and
manage her. I will attend to all else. We are going to our father, and
Thomas--and Luis."

Yes, and after all I am very tired of this dreadful life. It is a kind
of convent. One is buried alive here, and still not safe. Do you really
imagine that Luis is with my father and Thomas?"

"I feel sure of it."

"What a great enjoyment it will be for me to see him again!"

"And how delighted he will be! And as it is necessary that we go,
Isabel, we must