bang-bang_ roared the small Mexican cannon from across the river.
_Pow-pow-pow!_ The little balls only chipped dust from the thick adobe
walls. Ord smiled.

He found the second man he sought, a lean man with a weathered face,
leaning against a wall and chewing tobacco. This man wore a long, fringed,
leather lounge jacket, and he carried a guitar slung beside his Rock Island
rifle. He squinted up at Ord. "I know ... I know," he muttered. "Willy
Travis is in an uproar again. You reckon that colonel's commission that
Congress up in Washington-on-the-Brazos give him swelled his head?"

Rather stiffly, Ord said, "Colonel, the commandant desires an officers'
conference in the chapel, now." Ord was somewhat annoyed. He had not
realized he would find these Americans so--distasteful. Hardly preferable
to Mexicans, really. Not at all as he had imagined.

For an instant he wished he had chosen Drake and the Armada instead of this
pack of ruffians--but no, he had never been able to stand sea sickness. He
couldn't have taken the Channel, not even for five minutes.

And there was no changing now. He had chosen this place and time carefully,
at great expense--actually, at great risk, for the X-4-A had aborted twice,
and he had had a hard time bringing her in. But it had got him here at
last. And, because for a historian he had always been an impetuous and
daring man, he grinned now, thinking of the glory that was to come. And he
was a participant--much better than a ringside seat! Only he would have to
be careful, at the last, to slip away.

John Ord knew very well how this coming battle had ended, back here in
1836.

He marched back to William Barrett Travis, clicked heels smartly. Travis'
eyes glowed; he was the only senior officer here who loved military
punctilio. "Sir, they are on the way."

"Thank you, Ord," Travis hesitated a moment. "Look, Ord. There will be a
battle, as we know. I know so little about you. If something should happen
to you, is there anyone to write? Across the water?"

Ord grinned. "No, sir. I'm afraid my ancestor wouldn't understand."

Travis shrugged. Who was he to say that Ord was crazy? In this day and age,
any man with vision was looked on as mad. Sometimes he felt closer to Ord
than to the others.

* * * * *

The two officers Ord had summoned entered the chapel. The big man in the
Mexican jacket tried to dominate the wood table at which they sat. He
towered ove