"Neither have I. But I'd rather go hungry nor fall into them greasers' hands." "If the river is ahead we ought to see some light, Poke." "That's true,--if it's daylight outside. But it may be night." "Well, we can watch." And they did, first one going down into the water, and then the other. It was indeed night, and it yet lacked several hours to daylight. At last Dan came back with a smile on his face. "I swam a short distance down the passageway," he exclaimed, "and I saw a faint light. I am sure it leads to the river." "Then let us try our luck." "Can you swim with that wounded shoulder?" "I can swim with one hand, lad, although I allow it will be slower work than with two hands." "Then come on. If we can get away, the sooner the better," returned the boy, and led the way into the water once more. They walked as far as they could and then began to swim. Stover insisted on taking the lead. "I'm used to scoutin'," he said. "We don't want to run in no hornet's nest." The water now reached almost to the top of the passageway, and they had to move with caution for fear of striking their heads. The light grew clearer and clearer as they advanced, until Stover announced that he could see the river bank ahead, with some roots of trees and bushes hanging down in the passageway. "Keep back, and I'll take a look out," he whispered, and drew slowly to the end of the opening. He was gone several minutes, during which time Dan supported himself by clinging to a jagged rock sticking out from overhead. "Come on back; we can't escape jest yet," whispered Poke Stover, on his return. "Come," and he led the way up the passageway again. "But why can't we escape?" asked Dan, impatiently. "Because there is a whole company of Mexican soldiers encamped at the very spot where this passageway leads into the stream," was the answer that filled the youth with dismay. CHAPTER XXXI. SOMETHING ABOUT GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. The Alamo had fallen, and now it was necessary to figure up results. As said before, all of the Texans, about one hundred and eighty in number, had been slaughtered, while the loss to the Mexicans was variously estimated at from three to five hundred. The sights about the mission were truly horrible, and never forgotten by those who witnessed them. It must be said, in all frankness, that the defence of the Alamo was a mistake, for those gallant men must have known that they could not hold out against the overwhelming forces of Santa Anna. And they did not remain there because all escape was cut off, for they could have gotten away just as easily as the reinforcements from Gonzales got in. It was not until the final days of the siege that the Mexicans drew around them closely. Why, then, did they remain? The answer is one that every American boy and man ought to remember with pride. They remained because of the _principle_ involved. They had staked their lives for liberty or death, and they waged the contest to the bitter end.