Ned
paused a little distance away. He saw them talking together earnestly,
but he could not hear what they said. Far away he saw the three Mexicans
riding slowly toward San Antonio.
Ned's eyes came back to the wall. He saw Bowie detach himself from the
other two and advance toward the cannon. A moment later a flash came
from its muzzle, a heavy report rolled over the plain, and then came
back in faint echoes.
The Alamo had sent its answer. A deep cheer came from the Texans. Ned's
heart thrilled. He had his wish.
The boy looked back toward San Antonio and his eyes were caught by
something red on the tower of the Church of San Fernando. It rose,
expanded swiftly, and then burst out in great folds. It was a blood-red
flag, flying now in the wind, the flag of no quarter. No Texan would be
spared, and Ned knew it. Nevertheless his heart thrilled again.
CHAPTER IX
THE FLAG OF NO QUARTER
Ned gazed long at the great red flag as its folds waved in the wind. A
chill ran down his spine, a strange, throbbing sensation, but not of
fear. They were a tiny islet there amid a Mexican sea which threatened
to roll over them. But the signal of the flag, he realized, merely told
him that which he had expected all the time.
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