Every house contained
something inflammable, which was quickly set on fire, and two or three
huts made of wood were lighted in a dozen places.
The dry materials blazed up fast. A light wind fanned the flames, which
joined together and leaped up, a roaring pyramid. The Mexicans, who had
lately occupied them, were scuttling like rabbits toward their main
force, and the Texan bullets made them jump higher and faster.
Crockett, with a shout of triumph, flung down his torch.
"Now, boys," he cried. "Here's the end of them jacals. Nothin' on earth
can put out that fire, but if we don't make a foot race back to the
Alamo the end of us will be here, too, in a minute."
The little band wheeled for its homeward rush. Ned heard a great shout
of rage from the Mexicans, and then the hissing and singing of shells
and cannon balls over his head. He saw Mexicans running across the plain
to cut them off, but his comrades and he had reloaded their rifles, and
as they ran they sent a shower of bullets that drove back their foe.
Ned's heart was pumping frightfully, and myriads of black specks danced
before his eyes, but he remembered afterward that he calculated how far
they were from the Alamo, and how far the Mexicans were from them.
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