Ned might have walked away, no
one noticing, but he, too, had but one thought, and that was the Alamo.
He saw the Mexican columns shiver when the first volley was poured upon
them from the walls. In a single glance aside he beheld the exultant
look on the faces of Santa Anna and his generals die away, and he
suddenly became conscious that the shrill shouting on the flat roofs of
the houses had ceased. But the Mexican cannon still poured a cloud of
shot and shell over the heads of their men at the Alamo, and the troops
went on.
Ned, keen of ear and so intent that he missed nothing, could now
separate the two fires. The crackle of the rifles which came from the
Alamo dominated. Rapid, steady, incessant, it beat heavily upon the
hearing and nerves. Pyramids and spires of smoke arose, drifted and
arose again. In the intervals he saw the walls of the church a sheet of
flame, and he saw the Mexicans falling by dozens and scores upon the
plain. He knew that at the short range the Texan rifles never missed,
and that the hail of their bullets was cutting through the Mexican ranks
like a fire through dry grass.
"God, how they fight!" he heard one of the generals--he never knew
which--exclaim.
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