passed the window, and then he listened to the music, the sound of drum
and fife, until it died away, and they heard only the usual murmur of
the city. Then the homesickness, the longing for the great free country
to the north grew upon him and became almost overpowering.

"Someone comes," said Austin.

They heard the sound of the heavy bar that closed the door being moved
from its place.

"Our dinner, doubtless," said Austin, "but it is early."

The door swung wide and a young Mexican officer entered. He was taller
and fairer than most of his race, evidently of pure Northern Spanish
blood, and his countenance was frank and fine.

"Welcome, Lieutenant," said Stephen Austin, speaking in Spanish, which
he, as well as Ned, understood perfectly. "You know that we are always
glad to see you here."

Lieutenant Alfonso de Zavala smiled in a quick, responsive way, but in a
moment his face became grave.

"I announce a visitor, a most distinguished visitor, Mr. Austin," he
said. "General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, President of the Mexican
Republic and Commander-in-chief of its armies and navies."

Both Mr. Austin and the boy arose and bowed as a small man of middle
years, slender and nervous, strode into the room, standing for a few
moments near its center, and looking about him like a questing hawk. His