"Tapley Holland leaped the line at a bound, exclaiming, 'I am ready to die for my country!' And in another instant every man, save one, of that heroic file had followed him and stood beside their gallant leader. Every wounded man who could move crawled or tottered across the fatal mark. Colonel Bowie, too weak to lift his head, called out feebly, 'Don't leave me behind, boys!' and in a moment four men had lifted his cot over the line. The other helpless ones begged that they too might be lifted across, and finally only Moses Rose remained behind. He stood alone, with his face buried in his hands. Travis, Bowie, and Crockett all spoke to him kindly, and asked him if he were afraid to die. When he answered that he was, and believed in the possibility of an escape, they bade him go in peace. So he left them, scaling a rear wall of the church, dropping to the ground outside, and finally escaping, after eluding innumerable dangers. It is from him alone that we have a description of that memorable scene, for of all that devoted band whom he left in that gloomy fortress no man was ever again seen alive beyond its walls." "Then he was the Aristodemus of your American Thermopylæ," interrupted Bryce, who was listening with breathless attention to this tale of modern heroism. "Yes," replied Captain Gordon, "only he was more of a coward than Aristodemus, for the latter did not escape until after his comrades had been killed, and, if you remember, was himself killed in battle the following year, after performing more valorous deeds than any of his fellow Spartans." "I suppose Moses Rose was more truly a coward," admitted Bryce; "but lot's not stop to talk about him now, Uncle Cap. What became of the splendid fellows he left in the fort? Did they finally surrender, or were they captured, or what?" "They neither surrendered nor were made prisoners, but fought with the stubbornness of desperation for three days longer. At length, on the 5th of March, Santa Aña, believing the Americans to be too exhausted to offer a serious resistance, ordered the Alamo to be carried by assault at daylight of the following morning. At that hour the thunder of bombardment was again stilled, and as though the silence were a signal, dark masses of Mexican infantry, provided with scaling ladders, and driven to their deadly work by a pitiless cavalry pressing close on their rear, rushed at the walls of the devoted church.