Part 26 (1/2)

An alarm at once sounded, and the cry arose that the prisoners throughout the jail were rising. This, of course, was not so, yet the excitement was great within the walls, and, for the minute, Ralph was allowed to depart unmolested.

In the darkness Big Foot joined him, and thrust into his hands a stout club. ”Club much good, sometime,” said the Comanche. ”Knock down Mexican, maybe, if in way.”

He led the way down one street and another, until the vicinity of the plaza was gained.

Suddenly, as they turned an alleyway, a volley from the Mexican garrison was fired.

”Run! run! or get shot!” shouted the Comanche, and then, as Ralph turned in one direction, the Indian turned in another, and, in a trice, they became separated in the darkness.

Ralph kept on running, he knew not where, only that he might escape the bullets, which appeared to be flying in all directions.

He could not go around by the plaza nor by the church, and so cut into a gloomy courtyard. Still running, he reached the stone wall of a house. A window was close at hand, and he leaped through this, to pitch headlong on the floor beyond, too exhausted to go another step.

As related before, the firing kept up all this night, and was renewed with vigour in the morning. In the meantime, the trench across the street had been completed, so that the two divisions were in communication with one another. It was fighting at close quarters, and San Antonio looked as if in the throes of a big riot.

The Texans had been trying to bring a twelve-pounder into position, but, so far, they had failed. Now, however, it was mounted at a commanding point, and fired several times, with fair effect. In the meantime, Deaf Smith and a party began to do some sharpshooting from the top of the vice-governor's residence, but the Mexicans drove them off, and Smith was severely wounded.

When Ralph came to himself, he found that he was in a room that was pitch-dark. From a distance came a hum of voices, and the steady blows of some blunt instruments, probably axes or picks. The firing continued steadily.

He felt his way along from the room in which he found himself to the one adjoining. From this a stairs led upward, and he went to the upper floor. Here, from a window, he saw part of the fighting, and as the morning came, he saw still more.

The noise below kept on steadily, and as daylight advanced, the firing on all sides became almost incessant. In the midst of this, there came a loud hurrah, and a detachment of Texans, under Lieutenant W.

McDonald, ran out into the street, and battered down the door of the very house where Ralph was in hiding.

”Hullo, a boy!” shouted one of the Texans, as he caught sight of Ralph.

And then he continued, quickly, ”By George! ain't you Amos Radbury's youngster?”

”I am,” answered Ralph. ”And you are Mr. Martin, from the Pecan Grove Ranch.”

”Right, my lad. How in the world did you come here?”

”I just escaped from the lockup, and was trying to reach the Texan lines. Do you know anything of my father?”

”Do I? Why, he's in the house just below here, along with your brother.

We came---- Back, or you'll be shot!”

Ralph retreated, and none too soon, for a second later several bullets entered the window and buried themselves in the wall opposite. The Mexicans were firing from several roofs in the neighbourhood. This fire was returned with such good interest that soon the Mexicans were as glad to get out of sight as those who opposed them.

Ralph wished to join his father and Dan without delay, but Mr. Martin held him back.

”Wait until dark,” said the settler. ”You are fairly safe here, and it would be foolhardy to expose yourself.”

”Do you think we will win out?” asked the lad, anxiously.

”I do,--but it is going to be a tougher struggle than any of us expected.”

On the morning of the third day of the attack matters were at first quiet, but then came a fierce fire by the Mexicans on the Texans'