The flames roared and devoured the great pyramid, which sank lower, and
at last Ned turned away. His mood of exaltation was passing. No one
could remain keyed to that pitch many hours. Overwhelming grief and
despair came in its place. His mind raged against everything, against
the cruelty of Santa Anna, who had hoisted the red flag of no quarter,
against fate, that had allowed so many brave men to perish, and against
the overwhelming numbers that the Mexicans could always bring against
the Texans.
He walked gloomily toward the town, the two soldiers who had been
detailed as guards following close behind him. He looked back, saw the
sinking blaze of the funeral pyre, shuddered and walked on.
San Antonio de Bexar was rejoicing. Most of its people, Mexican to the
core, shared in the triumph of Santa Anna. The terrible Texans were
gone, annihilated, and Santa Anna was irresistible. The conquest of
Texas was easy now. No, it was achieved already. They had the dictator's
own word for it that the rest was a mere matter of gathering up the
fragments.
Some of the graver and more kindly Mexican officers thought of their own
losses. The brave and humane Almonte walked through the courts and
buildings of the Alamo, and his face blanched when he reckoned their
losses.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322