"The little band were without commissary and without transport; they were half-clad and half-armed, and in the neighborhood of a powerful enemy. They had been living three days upon ears of dried corn, but they had the will of men determined to be free and the hearts of heroes. I told them that the eyes of the whole country were on them, their sympathies with them, and that help was coming. And who do you think was with them, father? The very soul and spirit of their purpose?" "Some Methodist missionary, doubtless." "Henry Stephenson. He had been preaching and distributing Bibles from San Antonia to the Sabine River, and neither soldier nor priest could make him afraid. He was reading the Bible, with his rifle in his hand, when I first saw him--a tall, powerful man, with a head like a dome and an eye like an eagle." "Well, well, John; what would you?" "'In iron times God sends with mighty power, Iron apostles to make smooth his way.' What did he say to you?" "Nothing specially to me; but as we were lying around resting and watching he spoke to all. 'Boys!' he said, 'I have been reading the word of the living God. We are his free-born sons, and the name of our elder brother, Christ, can't be mixed up with any kind of tyranny, kingly or priestly; we won't have it. We are the children of the knife-bearing men who trampled kingly and priestly tyranny beneath their feet on the rocks of New England. We are fighting for our rights and our homes, and for the everlasting freedom of our children. Strike like men! The cause commends the blow!'" "And I wish I had been there to strike, John; or, at least, to strengthen and succor those who did strike." "We had no drums, or fifes, or banners in our little army; none of the pomp of war; nothing that helps and stimulates; but the preacher was worth them all." "I can believe that. When we remember how many preachers bore arms in Cromwell's camps, there isn't much miracle in Marston Moor and Worcester fight. You were very fortunate to be in time for San Jacinto." "I was that. Fortune may do her worst, she cannot rob me of that honor." "It was a grand battle." "It was more a slaughter than a battle. You must imagine Santa Anna with two thousand men behind their breastworks, and seven hundred desperate Texans facing them. About noon three men took axes, and, mounting their horses, rode rapidly away. I heard, as they mounted, Houston say to them, 'Do your work, and come back like eagles, or you'll be behind time for the fight.' Then all was quiet for an hour or two. About the middle of the afternoon; when Mexicans are usually sleeping or gambling, we got the order to 'stand ready.' In a few moments the three men who had left us at noon returned. They were covered with foam and mire, and one of them was swinging an ax. As he came close to us he cried out, 'Vance's Bridge is cut down! Now fight for your wives and your lives, and remember the Alamo!'