The devoted little band makes ready to measure swords with their enemies――The bugle blows as the Sabbath breaks――The Mexicans charge the Alamo with two thousand five hundred men――A terrible slaughter outside the walls――The death of Colonel Travis――The scaling of the parapets, and the death struggles in the fort――Bayonets, bowie-knives, and clubbed rifles――Where Davy Crockett fell fighting to the last――The silver bugle blows again――The end has come――The slaughter of the prisoners――The after scenes――“Thermopylæ had its messenger of defeat; the Alamo had none.” It was radiant spring-time when Davy leaned upon his rifle and looked across the Texas plains and over the hills that rose to the north and east of the valley. He had read the grim orders for the expected assault as he might have read an unimportant order of the day. No comments had been heard as the proclamation passed from hand to hand. On the walls of the Alamo and the tops of the flanking stockades were fourteen guns loaded with grape and slugs, ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. Every man was supplied with bullets and a full powder-horn. Some of the garrison were Mexicans, fighting for the common cause. These were armed with rifles carrying bayonets. They were not marksmen or experts in rapid firing, but they knew their fate if defeated, and were relied upon to resist to the last. A hush fell over all the land as the sun went down, touching with tender beauty the early verdure of the plains. In the cottonwoods finches sung their vesper songs, and the redbirds piped their plaintive calls. The melody of the thrushes came from the willows along the river’s banks, so sweet and far-away that Davy seemed to stand once more by the winding current of the Obion. The odor of cedar was in the air as the people of the city prepared their evening meals over fires of the fragrant wood. The softened tones of the vesper bells came from the Mission towers, full of an infinite peace and calm, and the day merged into night, and the stars came out, and the birds were still. So ended the 5th of March at San Antonio de Bejar. The fitful sleep of the garrison came to an end when word was passed around that activity had begun in the camp of the Mexicans. The sound of horses’ feet was heard as the men of Sesma’s cavalry command turned out for service at three o’clock, before the first sign of day appeared. By four o’clock the tramp of moving hosts had ceased, and in the bright moonlight the glitter of bayonets showed that the forces that were to make the assault had taken the positions assigned them. Every American took his place upon the walls of fort or stockade, and saw that the priming of his gun or rifle was renewed.