But they scarcely saw the faces of one another. The little valley was
filled with the smoke of their firing. They breathed it and tasted it,
and it inflamed their brains.
Ned's experience had made him a veteran, and when he heard the thunder
of the horse's hoofs and saw the lance points so near he knew that the
crisis had come.
"One more volley. One for your lives!" he cried to those around him.
The volley was forthcoming. The rifles were discharged at the range of
only a few yards into the mass of Mexican cavalry. Horses and men fell
headlong, some pitching to the very feet of the Texans and then one of
the cannon poured a shower of grape shot into the midst of the wavering
square. It broke and ran, bearing its general away with it, and leaving
the ground cumbered with fallen men and horses.
The Mexican infantry was also driven back at every point, and retreated
rapidly until they were out of range. Under the cloud of smoke wounded
men crept away. But when the cloud was wholly gone, it disclosed those
who would move no more, lying on every side. The defenders had suffered
also. Fannin lay upon the ground, while two of his men bound up a severe
wound in the thigh that he had sustained from a Mexican bullet.
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