"The convent yard is taken!" was the cry. "To the convent! To the hospital!" And as quickly as it could be done the Texans left the yard.
In the crowd were Dan, Stover, and Henry Parker. As the latter turned, a Mexican under-officer aimed his pistol at the young man.
"Down, Henry!" yelled Dan, but, before Parker could drop, the pistol was discharged and Henry Parker fell like a lump of lead, shot through the brain.
The sudden death of his friend made Dan spellbound, and he gazed at the corpse in horror. Then he felt his arm seized by Poke Stover, and in a minute more found himself being hurried toward the church.
"We can't do anything more," exclaimed the old frontiersman. "They number ten to one, and more. We are doomed, unless we can manage to escape!"
"Poor Henry!" murmured Dan, when he could speak. "What will his mother——"
"Yes, yes, lad, I know; but we can't talk about it now. Come on."
"To where?"
"Anywhere, away from that howling, raging mob of greasers. They'll show us no quarter."
"Travis is dead!" said somebody who was passing them. "They fairly hacked him to pieces!"