The captors heard the explosive words. Jim Sylvester, halted by the officer of the day, Colonel Forbes, waved his hand triumphantly; the little man with the side-whiskers and the shabby clothes visibly paled and shrank. Sion spurred eagerly to his chums.
“That’s he!” asserted Sion, excited. “Hear what those other hombres say? Watch them salute him! We didn’t know, but we suspected something. He’s got on pointed shoes, high-class, and under his coat’s a mighty fine white shirt with gold studs in it!”
“Where’d you find him, Sion?”
“Off yonder about ten miles, across Vince’s Bayou. Jim and Joel and I were scouting along, and Jim started to stalk a deer in a bunch; but something scared ’em all off, and when we rode over to see the why, this Señor Whiskers was lying there in the brush, trying to hide under a blanket. He said he was only a private soldier, and we began to walk him to camp, but he petered out, so Joel took him up for a piece, and then Jim took him. The rest of the fellows are still looking for Santa Anna.”
“The general told you you’d find him on all fours, dressed common.”
“Come on. He’s going to talk with General Houston. Let’s hear,” urged Leo. Off from his horse tumbled Sion, and away they trudged.
Colonel Forbes was conducting the captive to General Houston’s oak tree headquarters. Already a curious, vengeful crowd were gathering there, and through the camp was swelling an angry cry of “Shoot him!” “Hang him!” “Remember the Alamo!” No wonder that the little man’s knees trembled as he walked. How could he, who had hoisted the red no-quarter flag, and had ordered more than 400 Texas soldiers shot down when defenseless, expect anything but speedy death?
General Houston evidently had been asleep, at last, but was awakened by Colonel Hockley. He turned, raising himself on one elbow, as General Santa Anna arrived with Colonel Forbes. He surveyed Santa Anna silently.
Halted, at the general’s couch in the centre of a rapidly increasing throng, General Santa Anna bowed, with his right hand on his heart (Mexican fashion), and said, in quavering Spanish:
“I am General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, president of the Mexican republic, and I claim to be your prisoner of war.”