“Yes, yes, Señors,” said the Mexican official, bowing. “To-morrow the articles will be delivered to you, two miles below your camp.”
But the Texans did not believe in taking any chances. They brought the alcade along with them when they went back to their camp, so as to be sure that the provisions would really be delivered. They waited two full days and no goods were to be seen. They grew anxious and soon their spies made them more so, for these reported that General Ampudia had arrived in Mier with a large force of Mexican troops.
“We will proceed to the town and give them battle!” cried out the Texan commander.
By four o’clock in the afternoon the Americans had all crossed and were on their way to the little Mexican post. The spies were in front and first met the Mexicans as they sallied out from Mier. But the Rangers knew how to shoot and Ampudia retreated before the Texan bullets. At dark the Mexicans again entered their stronghold and barricaded themselves.
The Texans had their fighting blood up, and, in spite of the darkness, advanced to Alcantra Creek, east of the little town, where they halted for some time. The stream ran rapidly, so that it was difficult to find a crossing, but at last they all got over. As they scrambled up the bank, they were met by a hot fire, and the Mexican cavalry advanced against them. Five of the Rangers were cut off and captured. Others made narrow escapes, for the Mexicans now came in close enough for hand to hand fighting, and surrounded many of the more daring. Several of the invaders were compelled to abandon their horses and make a run for it across fences and ditches. A Ranger called Sam Walker was caught by a powerful Mexican and was held down, while others tied him. One man named McMullins was seized by the legs as he was getting over a fence, but his boots pulled off and he made his escape. This was fortunate.
“Big Foot” Wallace was not among those first over the creek, and advanced with the main body, which now came on, driving the Mexicans into the town. The troops soon entered Mier and passed down a street leading to the public square, where the Mexicans had planted cannon. While advancing rapidly, they were repeatedly fired upon, and a Ranger named Jones was killed. As he fell, he lurched against “Big Foot” Wallace, who had felt the wind from the bullet that laid him low. The Texans pressed on and soon arrived at a point near the cannon, where they received a charge of grape-shot, which made them seek shelter behind some buildings. It was now dark. It was also Christmas evening, but there were no peaceful revels in Mier that winter’s day.
The Texans had but one way to advance: by opening a passageway through the buildings so that they could get in the rear of the deadly cannon. They worked all night in digging a hole through the adobe walls. When daylight came, they were within fifty yards of the death-dealing artillery.
“Big Foot” Wallace was among those in the very forefront of battle. While engaged in tunnelling through the building he discovered a Mexican baby which had been abandoned during the hasty retreat of the occupants of the house upon the approach of the Texans. It set up a terrific squalling when the Americans approached it, so “Big Foot” carefully took it up, and, advancing to a wall enclosing a yard, climbed up and dropped it over. At the same time, he shouted out in Spanish:
“Come and get the muchacho. Quick!”
He soon heard a woman’s voice and supposed that the poor infant was being taken care of.