regulars.

In February, 1836, the acute and able Mexican, Santa Anna, led
across the Rio Grande a force of several thousand Mexicans showily
uniformed and completely armed. Every one remembers how they fell
upon the little garrison at the Alamo, now within the city limits
of San Antonio, but then an isolated mission building surrounded
by a thick adobe wall. The Americans numbered less than three
hundred men.

A sharp attack was made with these overwhelming odds. The
Americans drove the assailants back with their rifle fire, but
they had nothing to oppose to the Mexican artillery. The contest
continued for several days, and finally the Mexicans breached the
wall and fell upon the garrison, who were now reduced by more than
half. There was an hour of blood, and every one of the Alamo's
defenders, including the wounded, was put to death. The only
survivors of the slaughter were two negro slaves, a woman, and a
baby girl.

When the news of this bloody affair reached Houston he leaped
forth to the combat like a lion. He was made commander-in-chief of
the scanty Texan forces. He managed to rally about seven hundred
men, and set out against Santa Anna with little in the way of
equipment, and with nothing but the flame of frenzy to stimulate
his followers. By march and countermarch the hostile forces came
face to face near the shore of San Jacinto Bay, not far from the
present city of Houston. Slowly they moved upon each other, when
Houston halted, and his sharpshooters raked the Mexican battle-
line with terrible effect. Then Houston uttered the cry: