stories of ancient heroes, the bodies of whom
had been consumed on just such pyres as this, and he was willing that
his comrades should go to join Hercules, Hector, Achilles and the rest.

The flames roared and devoured the great pyramid, which sank lower, and
at last Ned turned away. His mood of exaltation was passing. No one
could remain keyed to that pitch many hours. Overwhelming grief and
despair came in its place. His mind raged against everything, against
the cruelty of Santa Anna, who had hoisted the red flag of no quarter,
against fate, that had allowed so many brave men to perish, and against
the overwhelming numbers that the Mexicans could always bring against
the Texans.

He walked gloomily toward the town, the two soldiers who had been
detailed as guards following close behind him. He looked back, saw the
sinking blaze of the funeral pyre, shuddered and walked on.

San Antonio de Bexar was rejoicing. Most of its people, Mexican to the
core, shared in the triumph of Santa Anna. The terrible Texans were
gone, annihilated, and Santa Anna was irresistible. The conquest of
Texas was easy now. No, it was achieved already. They had the dictator's
own word for it that the rest was a mere matter of gathering up the
fragments.

Some of the graver and more kindly Mexican officers thought of their own
losses. The brave and humane Almonte walked through the courts and
buildings of the Alamo, and his face blanched when he reckoned their
losses. A thousand men killed or wounded was a great price to pay for
the nine score Texans who were sped. But no such thoughts troubled Santa
Anna. All the vainglory of his nature was aflame. They were decorating
the town with all the flags and banners and streamers they could find,
and he knew that it was for him. At night they would illuminate in his
honor. He stretched out his arm toward the north and west, and murmured
that it was all his. He would be the ruler of an empire half the size of
Europe. The scattered and miserable Texans could set no bounds to his
ambition. He had proved it.

He would waste no more time in that empty land of prairies and plains.
He sent glowing dispatches about his victory to the City of Mexico and
announced that he would soon come. His subordinates would destroy the
wandering bands of Texans. Then he did another thing that appealed to
his vanity. He wrote a proclamation to the Texans announcing the fall of
the Alamo, and directing them to submit at