They had died as one might wish to die, since death must
come to all. It was glorious that these defenders of the Alamo, comrades
of his, should have fallen to the last man. The full splendor of their
achievement suddenly burst in a dazzling vision before him. Texans who
furnished such valor could not be conquered. Santa Anna might have
twenty to one or fifty to one or a hundred to one, in the end it would
not matter.
The mood endured. He looked upon the dead faces of Travis and Bonham
also, and he was not shaken. He saw others, dozens and dozens whom he
knew, and the faces of all of them seemed peaceful to him. The shouting
and cheering and vast chatter of the Mexicans did not disturb him. His
mood was so high that all these things passed as nothing.
Ned made no attempt to escape. He knew that while he might go about
almost as he chose in this crowd of soldiers, now disorganized, the ring
of cavalry beyond would hold him. The thought of escape, however, was
but little in his mind just then. He was absorbed in the great tomb of
the Alamo. Here, despite the recent work of the cannon, all things
looked familiar. He could mark the very spots where he had stood and
talked with Crockett or Bowie.
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