mething to be dreaded. The generals
about the table never spoke. But Ned remembered the words of Roylston.

"A great merchant named John Roylston has been a good friend to me," he
said. "He told me that if I should ever fall into your hands I was to
mention his name to you, and to say that he considered my life of
value."

The expression of the dictator changed. He frowned, and then regarded
Ned intently, as if he would read some secret that the boy was trying to
hide.

"And so you know John Roylston," he said at length, "and he wishes you
to say to me that your life is of value."

Ned saw the truth at once. He had a talisman and that talisman was the
name of Roylston. He did not know why it was so, but it was a wonderful
talisman nevertheless, because it was going to save his life for the
time being, at least. He glanced at the generals, and he saw a look of
curiosity on the face of every one of them.

"I know Roylston," said Santa Anna slowly, "and there are some matters
between us. It may be to my advantage to spare you for a while."

Ned's heart sprang up. Life was sweet. Since he was to be spared for a
while it must mean ultimately exchange or escape. Santa Anna, a reader
of the human face, saw what was in his mind.

"Be not too sanguine," he said, "because I have changed my mind once it
does not mean that you are to be free now or ever. I shall keep you
here, and you shall see your comrades fall."

A sudden smile, offspring of a quick thought and satanic in its nature,
passed over his face.

"I will make you a spectator of the defeat of the Texans," he said. "A
great event needs a witness, and since you cannot be a combatant you can
serve in that capacity. We attack at dawn to-morrow, and you shall miss
nothing of it."

The wicked smile passed over his face again. It had occurred to Ned, a
student of history, that the gladiatorial cruelty of the ancient Romans
had descended to the Spaniards instead of the Italians. Now he was
convinced that it was so.

"You shall be kept a prisoner in one of our strongest houses," said
Santa Anna, "and Captain Urrea, whose vigilance prevented your escape,
will keep guard over you. I fancy it is a task that he does not hate."

Santa Anna had also read the mind of the young Mexican. Urrea smiled. He
liked this duty. He hated Ned and he, too, was not above taunting a
prisoner. He advanced, and put a hand upon Ned's shoulder, but the boy
shook it off.

"Don't touch me