The watchman on the church listened intently as each report reached his ear, and kept his fingers firmly on the bell-rope.

An hour passed on, and the sun rode high in heaven; gradually the thundering died away.

Quicker grew the breathing, and tighter the cold fingers clasped each other.

The last sound ceased: a deathlike silence reigned throughout the town, and many a cheek grew colorless as marble.

There came a confused sound of shouts--the mingling of many voices--the distant tramp of cavalry; and then there fell on the aching ears the deep, thrilling tones of the church bells.
An intervening bend in the river was quickly passed, and a body of Mexican cavalry dashed at full gallop across the plain, nor slackened their pace till secure behind the somber walls of the Alamo.
At intervals of every few moments, small squads pushed in, then a running band of infantry, and lastly a solitary horseman, reeling in his saddle, dripping with gore.