“Thank ye, squire,” gasped Bob “you’re a true friend, a friend in life and in death.  Well, it’s come at last,” said he, while a resigned and happy smile stole over his features.  “I’ve prayed for it long enough.  Thank God, it’s come at last!”

He gazed up at the Alcalde with a kindly expression of countenance.  There was a slight shuddering movement of his whole frame—­Bob was dead.

The Alcalde remained kneeling for a short time by the side of the corpse, his lips moving in prayer.  At last he rose to his feet.

“God desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he may turn from his wickedness and live,” said he, in a low and solemn tone.  “I had those words in my thoughts four years ago, when I cut him down from the branch of the Patriarch.”

“Four years ago!” cried I.  “Then you cut him down, and were in time to save him!  Was it he who yesterday brought us the news of the vicinity of the foe?”

“It was, and much more than that has he done,” replied the Alcalde, no longer striving to conceal the tears that fell from his eyes.  “For four years has he dragged on his wretched existence, weary of the world, and despised of all men.  For four years has he served us, lived, fought, and spied for us, without honour, reward, hope, or consolation—­without a single hour of tranquillity, or a wish for aught except death.  All this to serve Texas and his countrymen.  Who shall say this man was not a true patriot?  God will surely be merciful to his soul,” said the Alcalde after a pause.

“I trust he will,” answered I, deeply affected.

We were interrupted at this moment by a message from General Houston, to whom we immediately hastened.  All was uproar and confusion.  Santa Anna could not be found amongst the prisoners.

This was a terrible disappointment, for the capture of the Mexican president had been our principal object, and the victory we had gained was comparatively unimportant if he escaped.  Indeed, the hope of putting an end to the war by his capture, had more than any thing encouraged and stimulated us to the unequal conflict.

The moment was a very critical one.  Amongst our men were some thirty or forty most desperate characters, who began handling their knives, and casting looks upon the prisoners, the meaning of which it was impossible to mistake.  Selecting some of our trustiest men, we stationed them as a guard over the captives, and, having thus assured the safety of the latter, began questioning them as to what had become of their general.

They had none of them seen Santa Anna since the commencement of the fight, and it was clear that he must have made his escape while we were getting over the breastworks.  He could not be very far off, and we at once took measures to find him.  A hundred men were sent off with the prisoners to Harrisburg, and a hundred others, capitally mounted on horses found in the Mexican camp, started to scour the country in search of the fugitive chief.  I accompanied the latter detachment.