Ned looked once more upon that dark and singular face, a face daring and
cruel, that might have belonged to one of the old conquistadores. In the
saddle his lack of height was concealed, but on the great white horse
that he rode Ned felt that he was an imposing, even a terrible, figure.
His eyes were blazing with triumph as his army united with torches to do
him honor. It was like Napoleon on the night before Austerlitz, and what
was he but the Napoleon of the New World? His figure swelled and the
gold braid on his cocked hat and gorgeous uniform reflected the beams of
the firelight.

A mighty cheer from thousands of throats ran along the Mexican line, and
the torches were waved until they looked like vast circles of fire.
Santa Anna lifted his hat and bowed three times in salute. Again the
Mexican cheer rolled to right and to left. Santa Anna, still sitting on
his horse, spread out his hands. There was instant silence save for the
deep breathing of the men.

"My children," he said, "I have come to sweep away these miserable
Texans who have dared to raise the rebel flag against us. We will punish
them all. Houston, Austin, Bowie and the rest of their leaders shall
feel our justice. When we finish our march over their prairies it shall
be as if a great fire had passed. I have said it. I am Santa Anna."

The thunderous cheer broke forth again. Ned had never before heard words
so full of conceit and vainglory, yet the strength and menace were
there. He felt it instinctively. Santa Anna believed himself to be the
greatest man in the world, and he was certainly the greatest in Mexico.
His belief in himself was based upon a deep well of energy and daring.
Once more Ned felt a great and terrible fear for Texas, and the thin
line of skin-clad hunters and ranchmen who were its sole defence. But