Before noon dark-skinned soldiers were swarming over the town on the lookout for plunder and mischief, and a crowd of them filled the office of the obnoxious Telegraph.
They were surprised to find there a lad as dark-skinned as themselves, who in a resistless flood of Spanish welcomed them like brothers, assuring them in the most high-flown terms of Spanish courtesy that the office and all it contained was theirs, and would be honored by suffering destruction at their hands. But in the midst of this rodomontade he continued by many adroit and well-turned phrases and an assumption of genial camaraderie to induce his troublesome visitors to postpone their destructive designs until he had laid the case before General Santa Anna, to whom he wished to be taken immediately.
This request was granted without any difficulty, for without a word of assertion on his part they had at once adopted him as one of their own race. Who else in that country but a Spanish-American could boast such smooth and courteous manners, such densely black eyes and hair, such a copper-colored skin, and such a flood of Spanish!
When John Sibley stood in the presence of the Dictator of Mexico he trembled from head to foot, but not with fear. He was an American boy, and he could not look on the ruthless destroyer of so many of his countrymen, the treacherous executioner of Goliad, the bloody victor of the Alamo, without a shudder. But Santa Anna was used to seeing grown men tremble before him, and took no notice of the effect he produced on a boy.
"How is this, muchacho?" he demanded, sternly. "They tell me you are a Mexican, yet you are employed on the Weekly Telegraph, a paper that never ceases to attack the land of God and liberty, her government and her people. Now tell me if this is what a true Mexican would do?"
By this time John had recovered his self-possession.
"Poverty, your Excellency," he replied, in as fluent Spanish as the Dictator's own, "will, as our proverb says, make a man put up at bad inns. A poor orphan Mexican boy might well be pardoned if he took the work and pay the stranger offered. But if your Excellency thinks it was wrong, let me atone by serving my native land in any way you can make use of me."
The General examined him critically.
"You seem an intelligent youth," he said at last, "and in spite of your boyish look, you have all your wits about you. If you are sincere in your offer, you can give me useful information."
Then followed the usual inquiries as to the number, equipment, and route of the retreating army, to all of which John, contrary to precedent and the advice of his soldier friend, returned truthful answers.