It seemed to Ned that the hand of fate itself had resolved
to strike down the Texans. He knew that Urrea, one of Santa Anna's
ablest and most tenacious generals, would never relax the watch for an
instant. In the darkness he could hear the Mexican sentinels calling to
one another: "Sentinela Alerte!"
The cold damp allayed the thirst of the young recruits, but the crater
was the scene of gloom. They did not dare to light a fire, knowing it
would draw the Indian bullets at once, or perhaps cannon shots. The
wounded in their blankets lay on the ground. A few of the unhurt slept,
but most of them sat in silence looking somberly at one another.
Fannin lay against the breech of one of the cannon, blankets having been
folded between to make his position easy. His wound was severe and he
was suffering greatly, but he uttered no complaint. He had not shown
great skill or judgment as a leader, but he was cool and undaunted in
action. Now he was calling a council to see what they could do to
release themselves from their desperate case. Officers and men alike
attended it freely.
"Boys," said Fannin, speaking in a firm voice despite his weakness and
pain, "we are trapped here in this hole in the prairie, but if you are
trapped it does not follow that you have to stay trapped.
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