I'll not spare a Mexican while I've the strength
to kill one. I'm on the scent for Santa Anna, and, by G--, if I find
him, I will spare Texas and you any more trouble with the brute.'"

At this moment Thomas Worth entered the marquee, and, in an excited
manner, said:

"Santa Anna is taken! Santa Anna is taken!"

"Taken!" cried the Senora in a passion.

"Taken! Is it possible the wretch is yet in this world? I was assuring
myself that he was in one not so comfortable. Why is he not killed? It
is an inconceivable insult to humanity to let him live. Have you thought
of your brother Juan? Give me the knife in your belt, Thomas, if you
cannot use it."

"My dear mother--"

"Maria, my life! Thomas could not wisely kill so important a prisoner.
Texas wants him to secure her peace and independence. The lives of all
the Americans in Mexico may depend upon his. Mere personal vengeance on
him would be too dear a satisfaction. On the battle-field he might have
been lawfully slain--and he was well looked for; but now, No."

"Holy Mary! might have been slain! He ought to have been slain, a
thousand times over."

"Luis, I wish that you had been a hero, and killed him. Then all our
life long, if you had said, 'Isabel, I slew Santa Anna,' I should have
given you honor for it. I should be obedient to your wishes for that
deed."

"But my charming one, I prefer to be obedient to your wish. Let us not
think of the creature; he is but a dead dog."

The doctor turned to his son. "Thomas, tell us about the capture."

"I was riding with a young lieutenant, called Sylvester, from
Cincinnati, and he saw a man hiding in the grass. He was in coarsest
clothing, but Sylvester noticed under it linen of fine cambric. He said:
'You are an officer, I perceive, sir.' The man denied it, but when he
could not escape, he asked to be taken to General Houston. Sylvester
tied him to his bridle-rein, and we soon learned the truth; for as we
passed the Mexican prisoners they lifted their hats and said, with a
murmur of amazement, 'El Presidente!'

"The news spread like wildfire. As we took him through the camp he
trembled at the looks and words that assailed him, and prayed us
continually, 'for the love of God and the saints,' not to let him be
slain. We took him to Houston in safety. Houston was resting on the
ground, having had, as my father knows, a night of great suffering.
Santa Anna approached him, and, laying his hand on his heart, said:
'I