Well, I'm not going. I intend to stay here and fight
it out with the rest of you."
"I meant for the best, boy, I meant for the best," said Crockett. "I'm
an old fellow an' I've had a terrible lot of fun in my time. About as
much, I guess, as one man is entitled to, but you've got all your life
before you."
"Couldn't think of it," said Ned lightly; "besides, I've got a password
in case I'm taken by Santa Anna."
"What's that?" asked Crockett curiously.
"It's the single word 'Roylston.' Mr. Roylston told me if I were taken
by Santa Anna to mention his name to him."
"That's queer, an' then maybe it ain't," said Crockett musingly. "I've
heard a lot of John Roylston. He's about the biggest trader in the
southwest. I guess he must have some sort of a financial hold on Santa
Anna, who is always wantin' money. Ned, if the time should ever come,
don't you forget to use that password."
The next night was dark and chilly with gusts of rain. In the afternoon
the Mexican cannonade waned, and at night it ceased entirely. The Alamo
itself, except for a few small lights within the buildings, was kept
entirely dark in order that skulking sharpshooters without might not
find a target.
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