“We have sure information that General Urrea, with the vanguard of a large Mexican army, will be here next month. Santa Anna will follow him quickly. You see that the city must either be defended or our men must retreat. I am going to Houston with this dilemma. Luis and Dare will join Fannin at Goliad. Now, my dear child, you have my place to fill. If Santa Anna takes possession of San Antonio, what will you do?” “If we are not disturbed in any way, I will keep very quiet within my own home.” “If Fray Ignatius attempts to interfere with you--what then?” “I will fly from him, and take Isabel and mi madre with me.” “That is your only safety. I shall hear if the Americans desert the city; then I will send your brother Thomas, if by any possibility it can be done, to guard you to the eastern settlements. But I may not be able to do this--there may be no time--it cannot be depended upon--Lopez Navarro will help you all he can, and Ortiz. You may always rely on Ortiz.” “My father, I cannot trust Ortiz. Every man is a master to a peon. He would mean to do kindly, but his cowardice might make him false.” “Ortiz is no peon. He is a Mexican officer of high rank, whom Santa Anna ordered to be shot. I saved his life. He wears the clothes of a peon--that is necessary; but he has the honor and gratitude of a gentleman beneath them. If necessary, trust Ortiz fully. One thing above all others remember--FLIGHT before a convent.” “Flight! Yes, death before it! I promise you, father. When we meet again, you shall say, well done, Antonia.” It was now about midnight. They went back to the parlor. Luis and Dare sat by the dying fire. They were bent forward, close together over it, talking in a low voice. They rose when the doctor spoke, and silently kissed Antonia. “It will be a hard ride, now,” said the doctor, and Dare answered, mechanically, “but we shall manage it.” He held Antonia’s hand, and she went with them to the rear of the house. Their horses were standing ready saddled. Silently the men mounted. In a moment they had passed the gate, and the beat of their horses’ hoofs gradually died away. But all through the clear spaces of the sky the Christmas bells were ringing, and the serenaders were musically telling each other, “At twelve will the Child be born!” CHAPTER XII. DANGER AND HELP. “A curious creed they weave, And, for the Church commands it, All men must needs believe, Though no man understands it. God loves his few pet lambs, And saves his one pet nation; The rest he largely damns, With swinging reprobation.” “The Church may loose and bind; But Mind, immortal Mind, As free as wave or wind, Came forth, O God, from Thee.” --BLACKIE.