He saw a rifle raised and aimed at
him, but a hand struck it down. A few minutes later he sprang breathless
into the camp, and friendly hands held him up as he was about to pitch
forward with exhaustion.

His breath and poise came back in a few moments, and he looked about
him. He had made no mistake. He was with Fannin's force, and it was
already pressed hard by Urrea's army. Even as he drew fresh, deep
breaths he saw a heavy mass of Mexican cavalry gallop from the wood,
wheel and form a line between Fannin and the creek, the only place where
the besieged force could obtain water.

"Who are you?" asked an officer, advancing toward Ned.

Young Fulton instantly recognized Fannin.

"My name is Edward Fulton, you will recall me, Colonel," he replied. "I
was in the Alamo, but went out the day before it fell. I was taken by
the Mexicans, but escaped, fled across the prairie, and was in the
mission at Refugio when some of your men under Colonel Ward came to the
help of King."

"I have heard that the church was abandoned, but where is Ward, and
where are his men?"

Ned hesitated and Fannin read the answer in his eyes.

"You cannot tell me so!" he exclaimed.

"I'm afraid that they will all be taken," said Ned. "They had no
ammunition when I slipped away, and the Mexicans were following them.
There was no possibility of escape."

Fannin paled. But he pressed his lips firmly together for a moment and
then said to Ned:

"Keep this to yourself, will you? Our troops are young and without
experience. It would discourage them too much."

"Of course," said Ned. "But meanwhile I wish to fight with you."

"There will be plenty of chance," said Fannin. "Hark to it!"

The sound of firing swelled on all sides of them, and above it rose the
triumphant shouts of the Mexicans.

CHAPTER XVII

THE SAD SURRENDER

Ned took another look at the beleaguered force, and what he saw did not
encourage him. The men, crowded together, were standing in a depression
seven or eight feet below the surface of the surrounding prairie. Near
by was an ammunition wagon with a broken axle. The men themselves, three
ranks deep, were in a hollow square, with the cannon at the angles and
the supply wagons in the center. Every face looked worn and anxious, but
they did not seem to have lost heart.

Yet, as Ned had foreseen, this was quite a different force from that
which had held the Alamo so long, and against so many. Most of the young
f