When about three miles from their destination, Walker and his 200 cavalry, seeing a party of Mexican horse approach the town, dashed ahead. Entering Huamantla they formed in fours, and then with a yell, a flash of sabres and a thunder of hoofs they swept through to the plaza. The Mexicans had time to get four of the guns away, but the others were captured, and most of the American troopers, concluding their work had been finished, scattered to drink, loot or hunt for cannon and ammunition. But now Santa Anna, who had observed Lane's movement from a church tower near El Pinal, appeared with his full command. They were a beautiful sight--galloping horses, red and green uniforms, brilliant pennons and a billowy sea of flashing lance points; but they were enemies, and the Americans accepted their challenge.[29.14] "Take it cool, my boys, but run like the devil!" cried Lane. Every nerve was taxed. Blood gushed from nostrils. The Mexicans, lashing their steeds into foam, reached the goal first, however, and the American troopers found themselves attacked on all sides. Walker was shot from a house, and soon expired; but he lived long enough to give a final order: "Don't surrender, boys; the infantry will soon be here." And so they were--"with a shout and a bound," said one of them. The tide was quickly turned, and giving up the town, "Peg-Leg," as the soldiers loved to call Santa Anna, passed the night some distance away. So ended the Tale of Huamantla or The Biter Bitten, which received no little applause at the time.[29.14] While these events were taking place, the garrison of Puebla continued to be hemmed in, starved and harassed. Their casualties numbered in all only fifty-two, but they felt severely the effect of so long a strain. Though a number of sorties were made, and their persecutors had to retire from several annoying positions, the Americans were not strong enough to do more. Their day of deliverance was approaching, however. October 10 Lane moved forward, dogged and somewhat annoyed by Santa Anna. Two days later his men saw the spires of Puebla, dominated by the sombre towers of the cathedral, and set off by white volcanoes veiled with clouds. And now and again the numberless bells of the city, great and small, pealed forth harmonious tones of many colors, that seemed to blend and interweave in rich and varied tapestries of sound, hung out in the mediaeval style to honor their triumphal approach.[29.15]