Then came another squad, eighty-two young
Tennesseeans, who, reaching Texas by water, had been surrounded and
captured by an overwhelming force the moment they landed. A piece of
white cloth had been tied around the arms of every one of these men to
distinguish them from the others.
But they were very cheerful over the news that Fannin had brought. There
was much bustle among the Mexicans, and it seemed to be the bustle of
preparation. The prisoners expected confidently that within another day
they would be on the march to the coast and to freedom.
There was a singular scene in the old church. A boy from Kentucky had
brought a flute with him which the Mexicans had permitted him to retain.
Now sitting in Turkish fashion in the center of the floor he was
playing: "Home, Sweet Home." Either he played well or their situation
deepened to an extraordinary pitch the haunting quality of the air.
Despite every effort tears rose to Ned's eyes. Others made no attempt to
hide theirs. Why should they? They were but inexperienced boys in
prison, many hundreds of miles from the places where they were born.
They sang to the air of the flute, and all through the evening they sang
that and other songs.
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