It was a question to which no answer could be given, but the sacrificial fire was heaped with fuel until its radiance flickered like a smile of satisfaction upon the vast, dark face on the wall, and the priests chanted on with a croaking sound like that of many ravens. No morning ever came into that cavern, but it dawned brightly upon the outside world,--the morning of the 6th of March, 1836. The camp of the Mexican army was astir at an early hour and the artillery began its practice-work upon the shattered wall. Every gun was aimed with care, for even Santa Anna was using up the last of his cannon-shot. There was apparently nothing doing in the fort. It had a lazy look, and the rangers hardly spoke to one another as they went about their routine duties. They all cleaned their rifles carefully, counted their bullets, measured their charges of powder, and now and then they would stroll to loop-holes for looks at the Mexican camp. "They are forming for the attack," was the word that passed from man to man, while the iron missiles, fairly well directed, fell fast upon the frail barrier which had been made at the breach. "There 'll a good many men drap in that thar gap," remarked Crockett. "But they won't all try to come in by that way." The Mexican commander had indeed learned something by experience. His storming columns were four in number, and only one of them advanced toward the broken wall. Another was evidently to approach by the front, where the ruins of the gate had been strongly propped up during the night. The third and fourth formed in front of the convent yard wall and the church, and their ladders would be quite long enough to carry them over the former. "We've got to divide," said Travis. "You hold the convent and church side, Bowie. They could pick their way in, or blast a hole, if you'd let 'em. We'll take care of the rest." Only a few men could be spared to any of the several posts of danger. The Mexican batteries ceased. The half-drunken infantry came on at a run. The last cartridges were rapidly and effectively fired from the Texan cannon. Down went their enemies by scores, and it looked as if the previous results were to be repeated, but Sergeant Daly now stepped back from the gun he had been working and held up a hand. "All gone!" exclaimed Travis. "Come on, men, this four-pounder is loaded yet. Let's bring it to bear upon the breach and give it to them as they come through." The guns on the church, three in number, had also been busy, but they now ceased their thunder. Down went the gate before the blows of the Mexican pioneers. Fast fell the foremost assailants in the fatal breach, but just as Travis had swung around his cannon a musketeer from the gate was within twenty feet of him. He did not miss. The calm, courageous smile upon the face of the heroic commander died away, for the flying lead passed through his brain.