"You are one of the Texans, young Fulton. I
know your voice. Upon him, men! Seize him!"
His action and the leap of the Mexicans were so sudden that Ned did not
have time to aim his rifle. But he struck one a short-arm blow with the
butt of it that sent him down with a broken head, and he snatched at his
pistol as three or four others threw themselves upon him. Ned was
uncommonly strong and agile, and he threw off two of the men, but the
others pressed him to the ground, until, at Urrea's command, his arms
were bound and he was allowed to rise.
Ned was in despair, not so much for himself but because there was no
longer a chance that he could get through to Roylston. It was a deep
mortification, moreover, to be taken by Urrea. But he faced the Mexican
with an appearance of calmness.
"Well," he said, "I am your prisoner."
"You are," said Urrea, "and you might have passed, if I had not known
your voice. But I remind you that you come from the Alamo. You see our
flag, and you know its meaning."
The black eyes of the Mexican regarded Ned malignantly. The boy knew
that the soul of Urrea was full of wicked triumph. The officer could
shoot him down at that moment, and be entirely within orders.
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