The appeal to the inhabitants of San Antonio for assistance, issued by Travis upon the 24th, had not brought any volunteers, but food and other supplies were promised. To obtain these it was necessary to send out picked men after dark, and considerable forage and grain was brought in during the 28th and 29th. There took place among the enemy about this time certain movements that might have been caused by the approach of Colonel Fannin’s command. For awhile, the slightest hope was enough to raise the spirits of the garrison. Every day gained made the possibility of relief seem more probable. But as night after night fell about the city, with the enemy’s lines drawing ever closer, it was hard to fight with a cheerful faith. On the 4th of March, when the sun was low, a man was seen to the westward of the fort, running towards the gate of the stockade, and pursued by several Mexicans. He was almost at once recognized as the Pirate, who had been one of the men sent in search of relief from Goliad. Crockett, Thimblerig, and the Indian were the first to rush to his aid. As they opened the gate of the stockade a dozen men followed them, and a fierce hand-to-hand fight took place. Another sortie was made from the stockade, and with the help of the men in this party, they were able at last to repulse the enemy. Eight Mexicans were killed, but the Americans had also fared badly. The Pirate and the Bee-Hunter were mortally wounded, and Davy had a terrible sabre-cut across his forehead. The old Pirate died without a word, just as they entered the gate. His story was never known. Davy saw the young Bee-Hunter laid carefully in his bed, and helped to dress the wound in his side. Until midnight he lay without signs of the pain he endured, and then he called for Colonel Crockett. Davy asked if there was anything he could do for him. He shook his head with a sigh that was like a sob. “Poor Kate! Poor Kate!” he exclaimed. “Her words were only too true.” For a moment he was silent, and then in a low, clear voice he sang the last words he had heard from her lips: “But hame cam’ the saddle, all bluidy to see, And hame cam’ the steed, but hame never cam’ he.” He spoke no more, and a few minutes afterwards breathed his last. In the morning light of the 5th of March the Red Flag fluttered in silence above the old San Fernando church. No quarter was to be expected, and there was little hope of relief, but there was still a chance to escape. Travis again asked if there were any who wished to go, but not a man showed the white feather. Every possible preparation was made for the expected assault. During the afternoon a Comanche arrow was sent into the fort by some friendly person in the city, with a copy of the following proclamation attached. This proclamation had just been issued to the army, and is a matter of record: OFFICIAL ORDER