the previous design, of the troops. Every evolution was performed with alacrity, the whole advancing rapidly in line, and through an open prairie without any protection whatever for our men. The artillery advanced, and took station within two hundred yards of the enemy's breastworks."
No adequate description of the action could be written. Participants in the contest have frequently undertaken to give the writer some idea of the scene. In fifteen minutes the victory was won, more by a slaughter than a battle. Houston and Gen. Rusk, the Secretary of War, were agreed as to the plan of the battle; the former led the centre, the latter had command of the left wing; seven hundred Texans engaged in mortal conflict with over eighteen hundred Mexicans. The sagacious, soldierly mind of Houston, and the lion heart of Rusk, were assured of success. The army was drawn up in battle array, waiting for the charge. The two six-pounders, "The Twin Sisters," had commenced a steady fire, well directed, of grape and canister, which shattered bones and baggage wherever they struck. The moment for victory and independence had come. The war-cry, Remember the Alamo! was sounded out with the charge ordered by Houston. Every soldier was aroused by the inspiring battle charge. The shout of an united army rent the air with the wild words, The Alamo! the Alamo! Terror thrilled the Mexican host. As he had been instructed to do, at that supreme moment Deaf Smith rode up on a horse covered with mire and foam, swinging an axe over his head, dashing along the Texan lines, and exclaiming, "I have cut down Vince's Bridge—now fight for your lives, and remember the Alamo."
Held back for a moment at this announcement, the Texan army in solid phalanx rushed forward with resistless fury upon the breastworks of the Mexicans. At the head of the centre column Gen. Houston urged his horse into the face of the foe. Ready for the attack, the Mexican army, although in great surprise, was drawn up in perfect order. The Texans approached within sixty paces. They had not fired a rifle, when the Mexican lines flashed with a storm of bullets. Fired too high, the bullets flew over the Texan army. Several balls struck Gen. Houston's horse in the breast, and one shattered his ankle. The noble horse for a moment staggered, but was spurred on by his heroic rider. Had the Mexicans directed the aim of their first discharge aright, the Texan ranks would have been sadly thinned. The Texan soldiers pressed on. Each man reserved his fire until he could choose some particular soldier, and, before a Mexican could reload, into his breast a Texan would discharge his rifle-ball. Without bayonets, rifles were converted into war clubs, and deadly aims levelled at the
