“As for you, sir,” he returned, “you came far to give us a great deal of trouble, and caused the sacrifice of the lives of a great many brave men.”
General Almonte only laughed.
“What of six or eight hundred men!” he answered. “You lost only half a dozen, yourself.”
“Sir,” rebuked General Houston, “we evidently estimate the lives of men somewhat higher than you do.” He struggled to sit up. “You talk about reinforcements! It matters not how many reinforcements you might have, sir; you never can conquer freemen.” With that he painfully extracted from his trousers pocket an old half-gnawed ear of dried corn. “There, sir! Do you ever expect to conquer men who fight for freedom, when their general himself marches four days with one ear of corn for his rations?”
That capped the climax. From the crowd around rang a tremendous cheer, and a score of hands were extended.
“That’s right, general! Give us that ear, and we’ll divide it up and plant it. Houston corn! Houston corn! Hurrah! We’ll call it ‘Houston corn’!”
This pleased the general. A tender smile overspread his haggard face. He passed forward the ear.
“Very well,” he said. “Take it, if you want it, and divide it up kernel by kernel, and every man plant his kernel at home. You have won independence; now see if you can’t be as good farmers as you were soldiers. But don’t call it ‘Houston corn’; call it ‘San Jacinto corn,’ so that it will remind you of your own bravery.”
This appeared to impress General Santa Anna, who had recovered when Dr. Labadie had given him some medicine. He remarked afterward to General Almonte that now he understood American spirit; he saw by the ear of corn that Americans never could be conquered. They could fight too well on too little!