The air
was full of it, and it appeared to be echoed and repeated by
innumerable voices.
"With this shout on our lips, we advanced to within sixty
paces of the Mexican lines, and then a storm of bullets went
flying over our heads. One ball, however, shattered Houston's
ankle, and another struck his horse in the breast. But both
man and horse were of the finest metal, and they pressed on
regardless of their wounds. We did not answer the volley
until we poured our lead into their very bosoms. No time for
reloading then. We clubbed our rifles till they broke, flung
them away and fired our pistols in the eyes of the enemy;
then, nothing else remaining, took our bowie-knives from our
belts and cut our way through the walls of living flesh."
Lopez rose at the words. It was impossible for him to express
himself sufficiently in an attitude of repose. His eyes
glowed like fire, his dark face was like a flame, he threw up
his hands as he cried:
"Nothing comparable to that charge with knives was ever made
on earth! If I had seen through the smoke and vapor the
mighty shade of Bowie leading it, I should not have been
surprised."
"Perhaps indeed, he did lead it," said the Senora, in a solemn
voice. "I saw yes, by all the saints of God! I saw a
great host with my Juan. They stretched out vast, shadowy
arms--they made me FEEL what I can never tell.
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