its repetition, and we stared at him,
ready, at the first word he should utter, to spring upon the soldiers.
But he seemed to be, as most of us were, impressed with the belief that
the demonstration was merely a menace, used to induce us to enter the
Mexican service. With threatening gesture and drawn sword, the chief of
the assassins again ejaculated the command to kneel down. The sound of a
second volley, from a different direction with the first, just then
reached our ears, and was followed by a confused cry, as if those at
whom it had been aimed, had not all been immediately killed. Our
comrade, the one who understood Spanish, started from his momentary
lethargy and boldly addressed us.

"Comrades," cried he, "you hear that report, that cry! There is no hope
for us--our last hour is come! Therefore, comrades--!"

A terrible explosion interrupted him--and then all was still. A thick
cloud of smoke was wreathing and curling towards the St Antonio. The
blood of our lieutenant was on my clothes, and around me lay my friends,
convulsed by the last agony. I saw nothing more. Unhurt myself, I sprang
up, and, concealed by the thick smoke, fled along the side of the hedge
in the direction of the river, the noise of the water for my guide.
Suddenly a blow from a heavy sabre fell upon my head, and from out of
the smoke emerged the form of a little Mexican lieutenant. He aimed a
second blow at me, which I parried with my left arm. I had nothing to
risk, but every thing to gain. It was life or death. Behind me a
thousand bayonets, before me the almost powerless sword of a coward. I
rushed upon him, and with true Mexican valour, he fled from an unarmed
man. On I went, the river rolled at my feet, the soldiers were shouting
and yelling behind. "Texas for ever!" cried I, and, without a moment's
hesitation, plunged into the water. The bullets whistled round me as I
swam slowly and wearily to the other side, but none wounded me. Our poor
dog, who had been with us all through the campaign, and had jumped into
the river with me, fell a last sacrifice to Mexican cruelty. He had
reached the middle of the stream, when a ball struck him, and he
disappeared.

Whilst these horrible scenes were occurring in the prairie, Colonel
Fanning and his wounded companions were shot and bayoneted at Goliad,
only Doctor Thackleford and a few hospital aids having their lives
spared, in order that they might attend on the wounded Mexicans. Besides
Mr E