ns had permitted him to retain.
Now sitting in Turkish fashion in the center of the floor he was
playing: "Home, Sweet Home." Either he played well or their situation
deepened to an extraordinary pitch the haunting quality of the air.

Despite every effort tears rose to Ned's eyes. Others made no attempt to
hide theirs. Why should they? They were but inexperienced boys in
prison, many hundreds of miles from the places where they were born.

They sang to the air of the flute, and all through the evening they sang
that and other songs. They were happier than they had been in many days.
Ned alone was gloomy and silent. Knowing that Santa Anna was now the
fountain head of all things Mexican he could not yet trust.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BLACK TRAGEDY

While the raw recruits crowded one another for breath in the dark
vaulted church of Goliad, a little swarthy man in a gorgeous uniform sat
dining luxuriously in the best house in San Antonio, far to the
northwest. Some of his favorite generals were around him, Castrillon,
Gaona, Almonte, and the Italian Filisola.

The "Napoleon of the West" was happy. His stay in San Antonio, after the
fall of the Alamo, had been a continuous triumph, with much feasting and
drinking and music. He had received messages from the City of Mexico,
his capital, and all things there went well. Everybody obeyed his
orders, although they were sent from the distant and barbarous land of
Texas.

While they dined, a herald, a Mexican cavalrymen who had ridden far,
stopped at the door and handed a letter to the officer on guard:

"For the most illustrious president, General Santa Anna," he said.

The officer went within and, waiting an opportune moment, handed the
letter to Santa Anna.

"The messenger came from General Urrea," he said.

Santa Anna, with a word of apology, because he loved the surface forms
of politeness, opened and read the letter. Then he uttered a cry of joy.

"We have all the Texans now!" he exclaimed. "General Urrea has taken
Fannin and his men. There is nothing left in Texas to oppose us."

The generals uttered joyful shouts and drank again to their illustrious
leader. The banquet lasted long, but after it was over Santa Anna
withdrew to his own room and dictated a letter to his secretary. It was
sealed carefully and given to a chosen messenger, a heavy-browed and
powerful Mexican.

"Ride fast to Goliad with that letter," said Santa Anna.

The messenger departed