“I hope every one will Rendeves [gather] at Gonzales as soon as Possible as the Brave soldiers are suffering; do not forget the powder is very scarce and should not be delad one moment.
‘L. Smither.’”
Chairman Ellis refolded the dispatch and passed it aside to the secretary. Later it was read again by many present.
A hush, thrilled with the murmur and stir of admiration, rage, and helplessness followed upon the reading. Several men attempted excitedly to speak; but the chairman motioned them down.
“You have heard the dispatch,” he said, huskily. “You know what is before us. The delegates will now proceed to the business of the consultation.”
Committees were appointed; and the convention adjourned, for the day.
It was a grim evening and night in Washington. The name of the heroic Travis was on every lip and in every heart was the fear lest a great Mexican army already had overwhelmed the Alamo and were sweeping across for the settlements eastward. And Gonzales, Ernest realized, would be the first to fall victim.
“Houston! Why doesn’t Houston go?”
“He can’t. He’s a delegate.”
“But he’s commander-in-chief.”