not find an opportunity to enter for some
time. He had been in the city all night. He had watched the movement of
the troops in the starlight. As he drank a cup of chocolate, he said:

"It was just three o'clock, Senorita, when the Matamoras battalion was
moved forward. General Cos supported it with two thousand men.

"But General Cos was paroled by these same Americans who are now in the
Alamo; and his life was spared on condition that he would not bear arms
against them again."

"It is but one lie, one infamy more. When I left the city, about four
thousand men were attacking the Alamo. The infantry, in columns, were
driven up to the walls by the cavalry which surrounded them."

"The Americans! Is there any hope for them?"

"The mercy of God remains, Senorita. That is all. The Alamo is not as
the everlasting hills. What men have made, men can also destroy. Senor
Navarro is in the church, praying for the souls that are passing every
moment."

"He ought to have been fighting. To help the living is better than to
pray for the dead."

"Permit me to assure you, Senorita Antonia, that no man has done more for
the living. In time of war, there must be many kinds of soldiers. Senor
Navarro has given nearly all, that he possesses for the hope of freedom.
He has done secret service of incalculable value."

"Secret service! I prefer those who have the courage of their
convictions, and who, stand by them publicly."

"This is to be considered, Senorita; the man who can be silent can also
speak when the day for speaking arrives." No one opposed this statement.
It did not seem worth while to discuss opinions, while the terrible
facts of the position were appealing to every sense.

As the day went on, the conflict evidently became closer and fiercer.
Ortiz went back to the city, and the three lonely women knelt upon the
house-top, listening in terror to the tumult of the battle. About noon
the firing ceased, and an awful silence--a silence that made the ears
ache to be relieved of it--followed.

"All is over!" moaned Antonia, and she covered her face with her hands
and sobbed bitterly. Isabel had already exhausted tears. The Senora,
with her crucifix in her hand, was praying for the poor unfortunates
dying without prayer.

During the afternoon, smoke and flame, and strange and sickening odors
were blown northward of the city, and for some time it seemed probable
that a great conflagration would follow the battle. How the