When John Sibley stood in the presence of the Dictator of Mexico he trembled from head to foot, but not with fear. He was an American boy, and he could not look on the ruthless destroyer of so many of his countrymen, the treacherous executioner of Goliad, the bloody victor of the Alamo, without a shudder. But Santa Anna was used to seeing grown men tremble before him, and took no notice of the effect he produced on a boy. "How is this, muchacho?" he demanded, sternly. "They tell me you are a Mexican, yet you are employed on the _Weekly Telegraph_, a paper that never ceases to attack the land of God and liberty, her government and her people. Now tell me if this is what a true Mexican would do?" By this time John had recovered his self-possession. "Poverty, your Excellency," he replied, in as fluent Spanish as the Dictator's own, "will, as our proverb says, make a man put up at bad inns. A poor orphan Mexican boy might well be pardoned if he took the work and pay the stranger offered. But if your Excellency thinks it was wrong, let me atone by serving my native land in any way you can make use of me." The General examined him critically. "You seem an intelligent youth," he said at last, "and in spite of your boyish look, you have all your wits about you. If you are sincere in your offer, you can give me useful information." Then followed the usual inquiries as to the number, equipment, and route of the retreating army, to all of which John, contrary to precedent and the advice of his soldier friend, returned truthful answers. "For if I tell Santa Anna that Houston has more men than he has," reasoned John, "he'll be mighty clear of following him a foot further, and will never fight if he can help it. But if I make him believe he can eat the Texans up at a mouthful, he'll push straight on, and I know what will happen then. The Texas boys will whip him out of his boots, or off his wooden leg." When these usual questions were disposed of, Santa Anna, looking keenly at the boy, asked him if he knew the country thereabouts. "Yes, your Excellency, I know the ground well on both sides of the Brazos, and for some way east." "Humph!" said the General, suspiciously; "how comes a boy of your age to be so competent a guide?" "My father was a ranchero," was the ready reply. "From a little chap, I went with him everywhere, until he died, about a year ago. I know the country almost as well as he did. Try me, and see if I fail." "Perhaps I shall. My scouts know nothing of this country hereabouts. I have a mind to send you with them on the enemy's track to bring me news of their movements. Knowing the country and the people, you may gain intelligence where they would fail. You can serve me well if you are faithful; and if you are _not_--well, you deal with Santa Anna!"