“Santa Anna is taken! Santa Anna is taken!”
“Taken!” cried the Senora in a passion.
“Taken! Is it possible the wretch is yet in this world? I was assuring myself that he was in one not so comfortable. Why is he not killed? It is an inconceivable insult to humanity to let him live. Have you thought of your brother Juan? Give me the knife in your belt, Thomas, if you cannot use it.”
“My dear mother—”
“Maria, my life! Thomas could not wisely kill so important a prisoner. Texas wants him to secure her peace and independence. The lives of all the Americans in Mexico may depend upon his. Mere personal vengeance on him would be too dear a satisfaction. On the battle-field he might have been lawfully slain—and he was well looked for; but now, No.”
“Holy Mary! might have been slain! He ought to have been slain, a thousand times over.”
“Luis, I wish that you had been a hero, and killed him. Then all our life long, if you had said, ‘Isabel, I slew Santa Anna,’ I should have given you honor for it. I should be obedient to your wishes for that deed.”
“But my charming one, I prefer to be obedient to your wish. Let us not think of the creature; he is but a dead dog.”
The doctor turned to his son. “Thomas, tell us about the capture.”
“I was riding with a young lieutenant, called Sylvester, from Cincinnati, and he saw a man hiding in the grass. He was in coarsest clothing, but Sylvester noticed under it linen of fine cambric. He said: ‘You are an officer, I perceive, sir.’ The man denied it, but when he could not escape, he asked to be taken to General Houston. Sylvester tied him to his bridle-rein, and we soon learned the truth; for as we passed the Mexican prisoners they lifted their hats and said, with a murmur of amazement, ‘El Presidente!’