"The convent yard is taken!" was the cry. "To the convent! To the hospital!" And as quickly as it could be done the Texans left the yard.

In the crowd were Dan, Stover, and Henry Parker. As the latter turned, a Mexican under-officer aimed his pistol at the young man.

"Down, Henry!" yelled Dan, but, before Parker could drop, the pistol was discharged and Henry Parker fell like a lump of lead, shot through the brain.

The sudden death of his friend made Dan spellbound, and he gazed at the corpse in horror. Then he felt his arm seized by Poke Stover, and in a minute more found himself being hurried toward the church.

"We can't do anything more," exclaimed the old frontiersman. "They number ten to one, and more. We are doomed, unless we can manage to escape!"

"Poor Henry!" murmured Dan, when he could speak. "What will his mother——"

"Yes, yes, lad, I know; but we can't talk about it now. Come on."

"To where?"

"Anywhere, away from that howling, raging mob of greasers. They'll show us no quarter."

"Travis is dead!" said somebody who was passing them. "They fairly hacked him to pieces!"

As Stover and Dan ran into the church building, there was a loud report in the courtyard. The Mexicans had captured one of the cannon, and turned it upon the long ward of the hospital building, and the grape-shot laid fifteen Texans low. The Texans were now fighting from room to room of the convent, and the whole place looked like a slaughter-pen.

"To the church!" came the cry. "To the church! Let the last stand be in the church!" The cry was taken up on all sides, and every Texan who could do so ran for the church with all possible speed. In the meantime, the stockade had been carried, and fresh Mexican soldiers were pouring over this in droves.

At the entrance to the church stood Davy Crockett, clubbed rifle in hand, and with the blood pouring from a wound in the head.

"Rally around me, boys!" he shouted. "Don't give up! We are bound to whip 'em yet!" And as the first of the Mexicans came on, he laid two of them low with one mighty blow of his favourite "Betsy," that cracked the rifle in half. And, as the rifle fell, so did lion-hearted Davy Crockett, to rise no more.

With the fall of Crockett, the other Texans, especially those who had emigrated from Tennessee, fought like demons, and soon the whole church was so thick with smoke that scarcely one man could be told from another. In a side apartment lay Bowie, suffering from a fall from a platform, where he had been directing operations. As the Mexicans swarmed into the room, Bowie raised himself up and fired his pistols. Seeing this, the Mexicans retreated, and fired on him from behind the door, killing him almost instantly.

It had been decided that, should the worst come to the worst, the Texans must fire the powder-magazine located in one part of the church. It was now seen that further resistance would be useless.

"The magazine!" came from half a dozen. "Blow the Mexicans up!"

"I will!" shouted back Major T. C. Evans, commander of the artillery, and started forward with a firebrand for the purpose. The Mexicans, however, saw the movement, and before Evans could go a dozen paces, a score of guns were aimed at him, and he went down fairly riddled with bullets.

"I'm shot!" cried Poke Stover, in the midst of the din and confusion, and clapped his hand to his left shoulder. He had been leading Dan to a rear apartment of the church, between overturned benches and sacks of wheat and rice.

"Shot?" gasped the boy. "Where? Oh, I hope it isn't serious!"

"It's in the shoulder," and the old frontiersman gave a suppressed groan.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"No! no! not now, Dan. Come, before it is too late."

"Where to?"

"Let us see if we can't hide from these bloodthirsty greasers. It is worse than useless to stand up ag'in 'em longer!"

Again Stover caught hold of Dan, and the two pushed on through the smoke and dust. Rifleshots still cracked out, and yells, screams, and curses filled the air. The Alamo had fallen and now the Mexicans were bent upon butchering every Texan who still remained alive. Out of the whole gallant garrison not one man was spared!

Presently Dan and his companion entered a small room but a short distance away from the powder-magazine. Here all was pitch-dark, as the room contained no window. There were boxes and barrels stored here, but for what purpose neither knew. Behind several of the boxes was a niche about three feet square, and almost as deep.

"It's not much of a hidin'-place," said Stover, "but I reckon as how it's better nor nothin'. Anyway, we can't do no more than try it. If they root us out, we'll die game."

They squeezed themselves into the opening, Stover with many a supressed groan over his wounded shoulder, which pained him not a little. Dan had been struck in the side with a flying bit of masonry, and had an ugly scratch under his arm in consequence, but just now he counted this as little or nothing. The one thing was to escape with their lives. To fight further would indeed have been sheer foolishness.

The din was gradually subsiding, and only the occasional yell of a Texan being massacred in cold blood reached their ears. Dan could not keep himself from shuddering. What a terrible Sunday morning! He thought of the ranch home, and of his father and Ralph. Would he ever see those loved ones again?

"Hush!" The warning came from Stover, and he placed his hand over Ralph's mouth. Footsteps were approaching the little room.

"Hunt the rats out!" came in a rough Spanish voice. "Hunt them out! Don't let one of them escape your bayonets!" And then several Mexican soldiers entered the room and began to rummage among the boxes and barrels.



CHAPTER XXX.

ESCAPING TO THE RIVER.

When the soldiers entered the little room, Dan felt inclined to give himself and his companion up as lost. He felt that the enemy would surely look into the niche, for the officer meant that not a hole or corner should be missed.

When first coming in he had loaded a pistol he carried,—his gun had been lost in the fight in the courtyard,—and he had done the same for the old frontiersman. Boy and man held the pistols ready for use. They did not mean to give up without a final struggle at close quarters.

But just as one of the soldiers took hold of a big packing-case that hid the pair from view, there was a commotion in the church proper, followed by the discharge of several rifles. Three Texans had made a last stand, and were fighting back to back.

"Come, let us see what that means," cried the Mexican officer, and ran from the little room, followed by his companions.

Dan felt relieved for the moment, yet he knew only too well that those Mexicans, or others, would soon be coming to give the place a thorough overhauling.

"They will kill us——" he began, when, on turning, his foot struck an iron ring in the flooring of the niche. He felt of the ring and soon became convinced that it was attached to a trap-door of some kind.

"If it's a trap-door it must lead to a cellar!" said Stover, hurriedly. "I hope to heaven it does. Try it, lad, an' be quick!"

Both crawled from the narrow opening, and Dan pulled upon the ring with all of his strength. Up came a trap-door about two feet square. Beneath this was a space of inky darkness.

"Don't mind the dark," went on the old frontiersman. "Let me go fust, and be sure an' shet the trap after ye!"



He began to lower himself into the hole, and his feet struck a flight of stone steps. Down this he sped and soon reached a narrow passageway lined with rough stone, from which the moisture oozed into pools at his feet.

"I'll try to put them off the scent," said Dan, and drew up one of the boxes in such a fashion that, when the trap fell into place, the box came down on top of it. Then he hastened to join Stover.

"I don't believe any of our soldiers knew of this secret passage," said Stover. "I wonder where it runs to?"

"Perhaps it doesn't run to anywhere," replied Dan. "Go slow, or you may dash your brains out on the rough wall."

They moved along cautiously. The passageway was not over six feet in height and from three to four feet wide. It was uneven, but soon they found themselves going downward and away from the church and convent, as they learned by the muffled noises overhead.

"This is some secret passage put in by the friars, years ago," was Stover's comment, after several hundred feet had been passed. "Like as not they built it to escape in case the Injuns attacked 'em."

"Well, if they did, it must lead to some place of safety," answered Dan. "I sincerely hope it does."

Stover was still suffering great pain, and he had lost so much blood that he could scarcely walk.

"I must rest and try to bind up that wound," he panted, and sank in a dead faint at Dan's feet.

Dan could do nothing in the darkness, and now he resolved to risk a light, and lit the stump of a candle which he usually carried with him when on a hunting expedition. By these feeble rays he bound up the wound as well as he was able and also attended to his own hurt. Then, as Stover gave a long sigh and opened his eyes, he blew out the light.

"Don't make a light ag'in," were the frontiersman's first words. "It may cost us our lives. We will keep still and lay low," and then he became partly unconscious again.

The hours which followed were like some horrible nightmare to Dan, whose nerves had been wrought up to the top notch of excitement by the scenes in the courtyard and the church. From a distance he heard calls and groans and an occasional shot. The Alamo had fallen and now Santa Anna was himself upon the scene, to make certain that not one of the Texans should escape. "I told them what to expect," he is reported to have said, and then, when five men were brought before him, and his own officer, General Castrillon, interceded for the Texans, he gave Castrillon a lecture for his soft-heartedness, and the prisoners were speedily put to the bayonet. Such was Santa Anna, now high in power, but who was destined in time to be shorn of all rank and to die in bitter obscurity. His last act of atrocity at the Alamo was to have the bodies of his victims piled up with layers of brushwood and burned.

The hours passed, how slowly or swiftly neither Dan nor Poke Stover knew. No one came to disturb them, and at length the boy sank into a doze due to his exhausted condition.

When he awoke he found the frontiersman also aroused. "I hope the sleep did ye good, Dan," he said.

"Was I asleep? I did not know it. How long have we been here?"

"I can't say."

"Have you heard anything more of the Mexicans?"

"Only a faint sound or two, comin' from behind. I reckon we had best push on and see whar this passage leads to."

They arose, to find their legs stiff from the dampness of the passageway. At least three hundred yards were passed, and still there seemed to be no end.

"One satisfaction, we are gittin' farther away from the church," observed Stover. "I can't hear nuthin' now."

"Nor I, Poke. But did you notice how wet the passageway is getting?"

"I did, lad. We must be nigh to a spring or else the river."

They went on again, but not for long. A hundred feet further and they walked into water up to their ankles.

"We are blocked," groaned Dan. "What if we can't get out this way?"

"I reckon ye had best strike another light."

This was no easy matter with their clothing and everything else so damp. But finally the light was struck, and they pushed on into the passageway until the water was up to their waists.

"We can't go much farther," said Dan soberly. "Do you think this leads to the river?"

"I do; but I can't say how far off the stream is. Let us go a little farther."

A couple of rods were covered, and they sank down until the water was up to Dan's neck.

"If I go any further I'll have to swim," he observed, and just then the candle slipped from his hand and fell into the water, leaving them in total darkness.

As there seemed nothing else to do, they moved back to the nearest dry spot and sank down to rest and to consider the matter.

"We can stay here for several days, if we wish," said Stover. "We have got enough to drink."

"Yes, but I've had nothing to eat since last night."

"Neither have I. But I'd rather go hungry nor fall into them greasers' hands."

"If the river is ahead we ought to see some light, Poke."

"That's true,—if it's daylight outside. But it may be night."

"Well, we can watch."

And they did, first one going down into the water, and then the other. It was indeed night, and it yet lacked several hours to daylight.

At last Dan came back with a smile on his face.

"I swam a short distance down the passageway," he exclaimed, "and I saw a faint light. I am sure it leads to the river."

"Then let us try our luck."

"Can you swim with that wounded shoulder?"

"I can swim with one hand, lad, although I allow it will be slower work than with two hands."

"Then come on. If we can get away, the sooner the better," returned the boy, and led the way into the water once more. They walked as far as they could and then began to swim. Stover insisted on taking the lead.

"I'm used to scoutin'," he said. "We don't want to run in no hornet's nest."

The water now reached almost to the top of the passageway, and they had to move with caution for fear of striking their heads. The light grew clearer and clearer as they advanced, until Stover announced that he could see the river bank ahead, with some roots of trees and bushes hanging down in the passageway.

"Keep back, and I'll take a look out," he whispered, and drew slowly to the end of the opening. He was gone several minutes, during which time Dan supported himself by clinging to a jagged rock sticking out from overhead.

"Come on back; we can't escape jest yet," whispered Poke Stover, on his return. "Come," and he led the way up the passageway again.

"But why can't we escape?" asked Dan, impatiently.

"Because there is a whole company of Mexican soldiers encamped at the very spot where this passageway leads into the stream," was the answer that filled the youth with dismay.



CHAPTER XXXI.

SOMETHING ABOUT GENERAL SAM HOUSTON.

The Alamo had fallen, and now it was necessary to figure up results. As said before, all of the Texans, about one hundred and eighty in number, had been slaughtered, while the loss to the Mexicans was variously estimated at from three to five hundred. The sights about the mission were truly horrible, and never forgotten by those who witnessed them.

It must be said, in all frankness, that the defence of the Alamo was a mistake, for those gallant men must have known that they could not hold out against the overwhelming forces of Santa Anna. And they did not remain there because all escape was cut off, for they could have gotten away just as easily as the reinforcements from Gonzales got in. It was not until the final days of the siege that the Mexicans drew around them closely.

Why, then, did they remain?

The answer is one that every American boy and man ought to remember with pride. They remained because of the principle involved. They had staked their lives for liberty or death, and they waged the contest to the bitter end.

The slaughter of the Alamo garrison thrilled the hearts of the Texans as they had never been thrilled before. Those who had been doubtful before were now doubtful no longer. "We must be independent," they said, "absolutely independent. We must raise a regular army. We must not be divided into factions, but must fight as one man, and under one leader." And then they prepared to strike one grand blow from which Santa Anna should never be able to recover.

But of none of these things did Dan or Poke Stover think as they rested in the dark passageway just beyond the reach of the water from the river. Both were cold and hungry and almost exhausted, yet there was nothing at hand to eat, and rest seemed out of the question.

"We must try to escape, as soon as it grows dark," said the old frontiersman, and all through that long, weary day they waited and watched for the light to disappear up the passageway. At last it was gone, and they swam again to the river, making as little noise as possible.

At the opening were a number of bushes, and, as they emerged among these, they heard the footsteps of a Mexican sentinel not a dozen feet off. At a distance was the camp, with several fires burning brightly.

Suddenly Stover caught Dan by the arm, and pointed to a tree overhanging the stream. Under the tree was a long canoe with the paddle lying at the bottom.

"We'll set the canoe adrift, and float down the stream with it," whispered Stover, so softly that Dan could scarcely hear him. "It's our one chance."

They waited until the sentinel had turned to walk to the other end of his station, then slipped down and swam over to the canoe. It was drawn partly up over some marsh-grass, and they easily dislodged it. Then they turned it down the stream and kept along with it as it floated, their heads up, on the side opposite to the Mexican camp.

They expected that the Mexican sentinel would discover the floating canoe, but such was not the fact until they were twenty yards from the mouth of the passageway. Then the Mexican turned and stared stupidly.

"The canoe has drifted off," he murmured to himself, in Spanish. "Well, it is not mine, so why should I care? Let the owner take care of his property." And he resumed his walk.

As soon as they were out of the range of the light from the camp-fires, Poke Stover crawled into the canoe and took up the paddle.

"Stay where you are, Dan," he said. "They needn't have but one of us to shoot at," and while Dan clung fast to the rear of the craft, Stover paddled with all the vigour at his command, which was considerable, considering his condition.

In ten minutes they were out of rifle-range, and safe, and then the frontiersman sent the craft ashore, and he and Dan climbed to the river bank. "Thank God, we are out of that!" exclaimed Stover, fervidly, and Dan uttered a hearty Amen.

"I think the fust thing we want to do is to git sumthin' to eat," remarked Stover, after they had rested for a bit. "I'm that hungry I could eat most anything."

"I don't know this location at all, Poke. Where are we?"

"Not many miles from the Gonzales road, lad. About a mile back is Nat Woodver's cabin. I reckon as how we'll git a warm welcome there, if Nat is able to give it to us."

They set out in the darkness, and reached the cabin half an hour later. They found that the settler was away, to join the army; but his wife and daughters were home, and they speedily did all they could for our friends, giving them a hot supper, and dressing the wounds as skilfully as trained nurses. They had heard of the fall of the Alamo, but had not imagined that all of the garrison were slaughtered.

His awful experience had driven Carlos Martine entirely out of Dan's head, and all the youth thought of now was to rejoin his father and his brother.

"They will worry about us, Poke," he said. "More than likely they will think us dead, for they must know that all of the Texans in and about San Antonio went to the Alamo when Santa Anna appeared."

"You are right, lad; we'll steer for the ranch the first thing in the morning," answered Stover, and this they did, riding two ponies that Mrs. Woodver loaned them.

When the pair reached Gonzales they found the town wild with excitement. The news of the disaster of the Alamo had just come in, and by the deaths of the thirty-two men from Gonzales who had entered the mission shortly before it fell, twenty women were left widows and twice as many children fatherless. One woman went crazy, and rushed about the streets crying for the Mexicans to come and kill her, too. It is needless to add that the Parkers were deeply affected over the loss of Henry.

As Dan and Stover were about to start for the trail leading up the Guadalupe, they met Amos Radbury riding post-haste into Gonzales.

"My son!" cried the father, joyfully. "And Poke, too! I was afraid you were dead!"

"We came close enough to it, father," answered Dan. And then he and the frontiersman told their stories in detail.

"I would have gone with the men from Gonzales," said Lieutenant Radbury, "but I hated to leave Ralph home with nobody but Pompey. These are certainly terrible times. I wonder what Santa Anna will do next?"

"Perhaps he'll march on Gonzales," said the youth. "It looks as if he meant to wipe out everybody in Texas."

"The whole State is aroused now. It must and will be a fight to the finish. If the Texans are whipped, every ranch will go up in flames, and every man will be butchered."

The party returned to Gonzales, for Amos Radbury did not want to return to the ranch, now he knew that Dan was safe.

While the siege of the Alamo was in progress, the General Convention of Texas, which had been called, met at Washington, and a declaration of independence was adopted, and General Sam Houston was unanimously reelected commander-in-chief, with absolute authority over all army forces, regular and volunteer. Heretofore, Houston had been little more than commander in name; now it was felt upon all sides that he must be given the absolute authority that the situation demanded. All other appointments which had been made in a haphazard, irregular way were abolished.

For the work that was ahead no better selection of a leader than that of General Sam Houston could have been made. Houston was born in Virginia, in 1793, and at the age of nineteen he enlisted for the war of 1812, becoming an ensign, and fought with such courage that he and General Jackson became warm friends. At thirty years of age he became a member of Congress, and five years later he was made governor of Tennessee, and was one of the most popular men in the West. He was up for reelection, when some unfortunate domestic difficulties overtook him, and he resigned his position and plunged into the wilderness, taking up his abode, later on, with some friendly Indians with whom he had hunted years before. These Indians elected him one of their great chiefs, and in return for this, Houston went to Washington for them and exposed a number of Indian agents who had been defrauding the red men out of the allowances made to them by the government. For this these Indians swore undying friendship, and they called Houston their best-beloved brother to the day of his death. Because of his life among the red men Houston frequently attired himself in an Indian blanket and stuck in his hair the feathers of a chief, a custom that was often followed by other mighty hunters of this portion of our country.

Besides being governor of Tennessee, Houston had been a lawyer of well-known reputation, and as such had closely studied legal affairs relating to the United States, Texas, and Mexico. He saw, long before war was declared, that Texas must one day strike for freedom, and he resolved, after leaving the Indians, to throw in his fortunes with the Texans, or Texians, as some have called them. As soon as he arrived he took hold, in his own peculiar way, of certain public affairs, and at a meeting at Nacogdoches he was elected commander of the forces of eastern Texas. This was directly after the opening of hostilities at Gonzales.

Had Houston been allowed to act as he wished from the start, it is possible that the slaughter at the Alamo might have been avoided, but, as mentioned before, matters, politically, were very much mixed, and there were frequent clashes of authority. Some secondary leaders took the liberty to do about as they saw fit, and at one time it looked as if Houston's command would fall to pieces. In the midst of this came trouble with the Indians, but this was patched up by the man who had lived so long among them and who understood them thoroughly.

As the Convention which had reelected Houston commander-in-chief of the army was in session, the President was handed a letter from Lieutenant-Colonel Travis, making a last appeal for help. As the letter was read there was wild excitement, and then it was moved that the meeting adjourn and the members march in a body to the relief of the Alamo.

But Houston would not have this. "Your place is here, gentlemen," he said. "Here, to pass laws and make our State an assured fact. I will take the field and organise a relief force, and I give you my word that no enemy shall come near you." The Convention settled down, and inside of an hour Houston, accompanied by several of his staff, was riding like the wind for Gonzales.



CHAPTER XXXII.

IN WHICH THE TEXAN ARMY FALLS BACK.

As the excitement in Gonzales continued, and there was no telling what would happen next, Amos Radbury resolved to remain in the town for at least several days.

"If I am needed I shall reenter the army," he said.

"Then I shall go with you," said Dan.

"But your side, my son——"

"My side is all right again. It was a mere scratch."

"I wish I could call my wound a scratch," put in Poke Stover. "But instead of getting better my shoulder seems to get wuss, hang the luck."

"I think it would be a good plan for you to go up to the ranch, and take it easy," said Amos Radbury. "Pompey can wait on you, and at the same time you can keep an eye on Ralph and the place. I do not like to leave my boy and the negro all alone."

"Then I'll go up to once," answered the frontiersman. "I'm no good at fighting in the saddle, but perhaps I can mind things about the ranch, as you say." And he departed up the Guadalupe before night. His going was a great relief to the planter, for he was afraid Ralph might get into trouble if left to his own devices. And in this he was not far wrong, for when Stover reached the ranch he found that the youngest Radbury had just heard of the fall of the Alamo, and was going to ride off in the direction of San Antonio, thinking to find his father and brother there.

In the meantime, General Houston, having heard of the fall of the Alamo, at once sent word to Colonel Fannin to blow up the powder-magazine at Goliad, and abandon the place. "You must hurry all you can," added the commander-in-chief, "for the enemy is reported to be advancing upon you." Fannin was to intrench at Victoria, on the Guadalupe, and await further orders.

Colonel Fannin was in command of between four hundred and five hundred men, the majority of whom were volunteers from the United States, including the New Orleans Grays, the Georgias, the Alabama Red Rovers, and the Kentucky Mustangs. On receiving Houston's order he sent out one of his captains to bring in the settlers and their families at Refugio. Before the settlers could be assisted, the Texans were attacked by an advance guard of Mexican cavalry, and then Fannin sent out another body of men to help the first. There were several fierce skirmishes, and the Texans tried to get away, but in the end they were either shot down or taken prisoners.

Having tried in vain to give succour to those sent to Refugio, Colonel Fannin started, several days later, for Victoria, after dismantling his fort and burying his cannon. Not a Mexican was in sight as the troop, numbering about three hundred, crossed the San Antonio River and marched across the prairie, and coming to a fine bit of grazing ground the colonel halted to give his horses a chance to feed and to rest.

"We ought not to halt here,—we ought to push on to the timber," said one under-officer, and several others agreed with him, but the halt was made, and time lost that proved fatal to the entire expedition.

The soldiers had just resumed their march when some Mexican cavalry were seen at a distance, in front. Hardly had they spread out before the Texans when a large force of Mexican infantry appeared to the rear. This was at two o'clock in the afternoon, and a little later the Texans were entirely surrounded, and the Mexicans began a furious attack.

The Texans formed into something of a square, with the wagons in the centre, and the artillery at the corners, and so withering was their fire that the Mexicans were repulsed again and again, and retreated, leaving the prairie crimson with the blood of the dead and wounded. With the Mexicans were a number of Indians, but they quickly retreated when their leaders were shot down by the Texan sharpshooters.

As night came on, Colonel Fannin called his men together, and asked them if they wished to remain and fight it out, or try to escape to the timber. "You can escape if you wish," he said, "for the Mexicans are demoralised by the large numbers that they have lost."

"We can't leave the wounded to be butchered," was the reply. "We will stand by them to the end," and so they remained.

In the morning it was seen that the enemy had been reinforced, and once again the battle was renewed, the Mexicans opening with their howitzers loaded with grape and canister, and doing fearful damage. At last the Texans could stand it no longer, and sent out a flag of truce, although against Colonel Fannin's desire.

The flag was received, and it was arranged that the Texans should surrender as prisoners of war, to be treated according to the usages of civilised nations. Their arms were then taken from them, and they were marched back to Goliad, and placed in an old church in that town. The wounded were also brought in, but only a few received medical aid.

It had been stipulated that the prisoners' lives be spared, yet when the capture of the Goliad garrison was reported to General Santa Anna he instantly sent word that all of the prisoners should be taken out and shot! The command was an infamous one, yet it was obeyed almost to the letter, only a handful of the Texans escaping out of about three hundred. Small wonder was it that Santa Anna was often termed the Mexican butcher.

Houston's arrival at Gonzales did something toward allaying the excitement, and in a short time he gathered together some three hundred men. But as report after report came in of the advance of Santa Anna with a large force, he felt that it would be useless to give battle, and began to fall back toward the Colorado River, hoping there to be joined by Fannin and others. He took with him most of the inhabitants of Gonzales, and the town was left behind in flames.

With the army went Amos Radbury and Dan, both well mounted and well armed. The first stop was at Peach Creek, fifteen miles distant; and here, on the day following, over a hundred additional volunteers joined Houston's command. From Peach Creek the little army moved to Nevada Creek, and here Houston delayed his march in order that some of his men might bring in a blind widow, who had been left at her home some distance back with her six children. When the Colorado was gained, the army went into camp at Burnham's Crossing, and then across the river at Beason's Crossing.

Here the general received news of the surrender of Fannin's force, brought by a settler from Goliad. This was a great blow to Houston, and he felt that he must fall back still farther, and wait for reinforcements from other sources before risking a battle with the powerful Mexican general who was bent upon crushing him. He began to fall back to the Brazos River.

The retreat toward the Brazos caused much murmuring. "Houston is a coward,—he won't fight the greasers," said some, but others who understood their commander more thoroughly said nothing and did as ordered. Once an under-officer tried to start an open rebellion, but Houston threatened to "lick him out of his boots," if he didn't mind his own business. Then he made a little speech, and told the men that he would soon give them all the fighting they wanted, and "on the top side," as he expressed it. Many of the volunteers were of lawless character, and it needed just such a man as the dashing and daring, yet cautious, Houston to keep them in check and make them do their best when the proper moment arrived.

"What do you make of this, father?" asked Dan of his parent, when the retreat toward the Brazos was ordered.

"I don't know what to make of it," answered Amos Radbury. "I suppose General Houston knows what he is doing."

"But see how the settlers are leaving their homes. There is a regular panic among them."

"That is true, Dan. I wish I knew how Ralph and Stover are faring at home."

"Can we get back to them?"

"Hardly now, for we would most likely have to pass right through Santa Anna's lines. I do not believe it will be long before we have a big fight."

"Do you believe it is true that Colonel Fannin has been defeated?"

"It may be so, for, judging by what took place at the Alamo, Santa Anna must have a large army concentrating here."

It was raining at the time; indeed, it rained now nearly every day, and the march was anything but a pleasant one. Often the wagons and cannon got stuck, and the men had to put their shoulders to the wheels to help things along. Volunteers came and went, and so did the settlers, and sometimes the commander could not calculate how many men he had to rely upon in case of emergency. Yet on struggled the body until, on March 28th, the army reached San Felipe. From here they went up the Brazos and encamped near Groce's Ferry.

In the meantime, Santa Anna's army was pressing forward, but in several different ways. The Mexican general had thought that the slaughter at the Alamo and the massacre at Goliad would make the Texans submit without further difficulty. He had yet to learn that it was indeed liberty or death with these stern people, who were so soon to risk their all in one final contest.

One portion of the Mexican army, having gained the Colorado, crossed in rafts, while another portion moved upon San Felipe; and then a portion of the concentrated forces went to Fort Bend. From here Santa Anna pushed on, through the rain and mud, to Harrisburg, hoping to surprise the town; but, when he arrived, the place was practically abandoned.

He wished most of all to capture the heads of the government the Texans had set up, and, learning they were off for Galveston Island, he set out on the march for New Washington, which is located just north of Galveston Bay.

Houston, hearing that Santa Anna had at last crossed the Brazos, began to march south to meet him. The Texans encamped at Buffalo Bayou, opposite to what was left of the smoking ruins of Harrisburg. Every soldier was now more than eager to fight.

"Very well; fight you shall," said General Houston.

"We will! We will!" shouted the soldiers.

Then Houston continued: "Some of us may be killed, and some must be killed. But, boys, remember the Alamo!"

"Yes, we will remember the Alamo!" came back in a deep chorus. "Down with every Mexican in the State of Texas!"

Buffalo Bayou was crossed with great difficulty, on rafts and by swimming, and the soaked and weary army took its way to Lynch's Ferry, where the Buffalo Bayou and the San Jacinto River join. Here were found some rafts belonging to the Mexicans, piled high with army stores, and these were confiscated. Falling back to a shelter of live-oaks, General Houston planted his cannon, and then prepared to fight the enemy on sight.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE VICTORY OF SAN JACINTO.

"I reckon we are in for it now, father."

"Yes, Dan, we shall soon see some heavy fighting, I am afraid. I trust you come out of it unharmed."

"And I hope you come out unharmed, too, father," added Dan, earnestly.

The two sat under a live-oak, overlooking a wide expanse of prairie, dotted here and there with patches of timber. Behind them flowed the broad and muddy stream, with a stretch of treacherous marsh-land separating them from the water. The soldiers had been formed into something resembling companies, and Mr. Radbury had been assigned to his old position of lieutenant, with Dan as one of the privates under him.

The Texans had gathered around in little knots to discuss the situation in low tones. Under one of the trees stood General Houston, clad in nothing more striking than an old slouch hat, a shiny black coat, and a light-coloured pair of trousers which had long since seen their best days. His sword, also an old affair, was tied to his belt with bits of a lariat. Altogether he looked anything but a general bent upon leading a raw and undisciplined army to victory.

"We will win!" he was saying. "We cannot afford to lose. The whole fate of Texas hangs upon our courage!"

Amos Radbury looked at Dan, and something of a smile crossed his face. "Did you hear that, lad?" he asked. "I believe our general speaks the truth. He is not a man to fail."

The day wore along until two in the afternoon, when several cannon-shots were heard in the distance, and incoming scouts announced that Santa Anna was coming, but not with his entire army. The Mexican general had divided his forces again, much to his disadvantage, as we shall see.

A light skirmish occurred late in the afternoon, but Houston could not draw on a general engagement, and while Santa Anna pitched his camp and fortified it, the Texans remained on strict guard all night, fearing a surprise.

In the morning General Cos arrived with five hundred men, to reinforce Santa Anna, but the soldiers were so tired out by a forced march they could scarcely stand, and so for the time being the Mexican general did nothing. In the meantime, the Texans called a council of war. Some were for attacking the Mexicans, and others wanted to wait to be attacked. Houston said but little, yet by his face he showed that some plan of action was forming in his brain.

The council over, the commander called two trusty scouts to him, and sent them off with axes on a secret mission, which was to cut away the bridge by which both armies had reached their present encampments. This done, neither could retreat, so the fight would have to be "to a finish."

"To arms!" came the call in the middle of the afternoon, and the solitary drum the Texans possessed began to roll. Then, as the men formed to march, the single fifer struck up the popular tune of the day, "Will You Come to the Bower?"

"Dan, be careful of yourself!" cried Amos Radbury, as he pressed his son's hand. "Be careful for my sake!" And then he rushed off to lead his men forward. Dan's face was pale, but his clear eyes shone with a determination that could not be mistaken. He would do his duty, come what might.

"Vance's bridge has been cut down!" came the cry. "You must fight now to a finish! Remember the Alamo!"

"Remember the Alamo!" came back wildly. "Remember the Alamo! Down with Santa Anna!" And then the long lines rushed on, straight for the barricades which the Mexicans had erected.

The Mexicans were taken completely by surprise, for it had grown so late that they had come to the conclusion that hostilities would be put off until the next day. Santa Anna was taking a nap in his tent, while his officers lay around smoking and playing cards. The soldiers were partaking of such food as their scanty means afforded.

"Forward!" came from the Texan officers. "Forward! Don't give them time to form!" And on swept the line, and crack! crack! went the rifles and pistols. Some of the Mexicans tried to return the fire, while others fell flat to avoid the bullets.

"The cannon!" shouted the Mexican general, Castrillon, when a bullet killed him instantly. Some of the cannoneers were already at the field-pieces, but they could do little, for the Texans were already upon them. The smoke was thick, and the yelling upon both sides incessant. In the midst of all was General Houston, firing his pistol and using his sword to every possible advantage, and calling to his men to remember the Alamo and not let one Mexican get away.

Side by side Amos Radbury and Dan gained the barricade. A Mexican loomed up before them and the lieutenant despatched him with a pistol-shot. Then over the barricade went father and son, Dan using his empty gun as a club, and the lieutenant drawing his bowie-knife, a weapon with which nearly every Texan was provided. The Texans came over at leaps and bounds, and charged straight into the heart of the enemy's camp, striking down every Mexican that opposed them.

Coming out of his tent, Santa Anna yelled to his men to arm themselves and form into battle-line. But the confusion was so great that none of his followers paid attention to him. The Texans were aroused as never before, and struck at the Mexicans with such lightning-like rapidity that the enemy was dazed, and scores of them fell upon their knees begging for mercy. The shooting still continued, and now Dan was horrified to see his father go down, stabbed in the leg by a Mexican bayonet.

"Father!" he yelled, hoarsely, and then turned to the Mexican who had done the deed. The fellow tried to pierce Dan with his steel, but more by instinct than reason the youth leaped to one side. Then Dan's gun came crashing down, and the Mexican with it, his skull cracked by the force of the blow.

A crowd was now rushing that way, a score of Mexicans pursued by fully as many Texans, and Dan had his hands full to keep his parent from being trampled upon. There was a strange humming in the boy's ears, and he seemed to be lifted up as though walking on air, while he panted for breath.

"Keep off,—he is my father!" he screamed, and hurled one of the Mexicans to one side. Then another came to take his place, and man and boy rolled over on the prairie—grass close to the wounded lieutenant. The Mexican had Dan by the throat when a Texan, rushing forward, kicked the enemy in the head, rendering him partly unconscious.

Leaping up, Dan tried to collect his confused senses. Texans and Mexicans were running in every direction, but at a glance he saw that his own side had the best of the battle, and a prayer of thankfulness burst from his lips. Then he saw General Houston go down, struck in the ankle by a bullet. Yet the staunch commander kept to his post. His horse was also shot several times.

At last the Mexicans were in full retreat. Paralysed with fear, some of them sought the open prairie, where they were shot down by the Texan sharpshooters, while others ran frantically for where the Vance bridge had been located. Here the banks of the river were high and rocky, and but few escaped to the opposite side.

The battle had been fought and won, but the end was not yet. On the prairie, one of the Mexican commanders tried to make a stand, but the Texans shot down the line almost as quickly as it was formed. Then the Mexicans began to throw down their firearms, and the officers held up their swords, handles to the front, as a token of surrender.

"It's too late to surrender!" cried a number of Texans. "Remember the Alamo!" Meaning, "Remember how you butchered our soldiers!"

"Me no Alamo! Me no Alamo!" shrieked many of the Mexicans. "Good Americano! Me no Alamo!" They wished the Texans to understand that they were not responsible for the cold-blooded slaughter at the mission. At last Colonel Almonte gathered together nearly four hundred of the defeated and made a formal surrender, and to the everlasting honour of Texas be it said that these prisoners were not maltreated.

The night that followed was one never to be forgotten. Santa Anna had escaped, and while some ran around crying, "Santa Anna! Hunt down Santa Anna!" others procured from the Mexicans' store a number of candles, which they lit, and then formed a grand procession through the live-oak grove and across the prairie, dancing and yelling like a lot of Indians. The victory had been so long delayed that now, when it was really theirs, they were intoxicated with joy.

The contest had been a remarkable one in many ways. The Texan army numbered exactly 743, of whom eight were killed and thirty wounded. Santa Anna's force numbered over sixteen hundred, and of these, 630 were killed, two hundred wounded, and 730 made prisoners. The enemy had lost, in killed and wounded, more men than the Texan army contained, and at the end of the battle the Texans had more prisoners than they had men in the ranks! Besides prisoners, the Texans took over a thousand firearms, two hundred sabres, four hundred horses and mules, and about $12,000 in silver. Part of the money was divided among the soldiers, each man receiving $7.50, and that was his entire pay for the campaign.

The Texans were bound to find Santa Anna, and scouts went out in all directions in search of him. On the following day he was discovered in the long grass near the edge of a ravine, on the other side of the river. He tried to hide in the grass, but was compelled to crawl out and surrender. At first he claimed to be a private, but his jewels betrayed him, and then he said he was one of Santa Anna's aides-de-camp. But no one believed him, and he was taken into the Texan camp without delay. Here there was a most dramatic scene between General Houston and his noted prisoner. Houston, exhausted and covered with the dirt of battle, lay at the foot of a tree, where he had just taken a nap after having his ankle dressed.

"I am General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, President of the Mexican Republic," said that individual, as he bowed low and flashed his jewels and military decorations before Houston. "I claim to be a prisoner of war at your disposal."

General Houston regarded him in utter silence for several seconds, a silence in which each man measured the other thoroughly. Plainly Santa Anna was disconcerted, and he looked around nervously, as if expecting that at any moment he might be shot in the back. Then Houston waved him to a seat on a near-by box of ammunition.

An interpreter was called up, and Santa Anna asked for a piece of opium, saying he was suffering much pain. The opium was given him and this quieted his nerves.

"That man may consider himself born to no common destiny who has conquered the Napoleon of the West," went on the Mexican general, bombastically. "It now remains for him to be generous to the vanquished."

Again Houston looked at him, a look that made Santa Anna quail.

"You should have remembered that at the Alamo," said the Texan commander.

"I am not to blame—I acted under the orders of the government of Mexico," cried Santa Anna, hastily, and tried to explain that there was a law which held that prisoners taken with arms must be treated as pirates. But Houston cut the interpreter short when translating the words.

"Who is the government of Mexico?" he exclaimed. "You, and you alone, and you are responsible for the law that made the slaughter at the Alamo possible. And you are likewise responsible for the massacre at Goliad!" went on Houston, with great intensity of feeling.

"No, no, you are mistaken," answered Santa Anna, and then tried to excuse the massacre of Fannin and his men in various ways. He wanted to treat for peace and for his release, but Houston told him that only the government of Texas had jurisdiction in the matter. Then Santa Anna was placed in a tent, given his private baggage, and a strong guard was set, that some of the more headstrong of the Texans might not kill him.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

BACK TO THE RANCH—CONCLUSION.

Immediately after the battle, Dan sought out medical aid and had his father attended to. Mr. Radbury was still unconscious, and for several days it was not known whether he would live or die. During all that time, his son remained at his side, hoping and praying for the best. At last the planter was pronounced out of danger, but the wound had been a deep one and it was doubtful if Mr. Radbury would ever be as strong again as he had been.

While father and son were at the temporary hospital which the Texans had opened, Dan made a discovery which filled him with interest. Among the Mexican prisoners that had been taken, the youth found a man from San Antonio whom he knew well,—a person who had joined Santa Anna's army after the fall of the Alamo. During a talk with this individual, he learned that Carlos Martine was also in the army, having joined at the same time.

"I must find that man and have a talk with him," said Dan to himself, and as soon as his father was a little better he set out on his hunt.

He had not made many inquiries, when he learned that Carlos Martine was dead, having been shot down while trying to escape across the open prairie, and the body had already been put away.

"But what of the dead—were the things in their pockets buried with them?" asked Dan of one of the Texan guards.

"No, their pockets were emptied, and everything found was turned over to the quartermaster," was the reply, and then the youth went to the officer named and told him of Martine and of the missing papers.

"Here is a lot of stuff, Radbury. You can look it over and see if there is anything there belonging to your father."

Dan examined the pile with care, and presently came upon the papers, safe and sound, just as they had been stolen by Hank Stiger.

"They are here!" he cried, and passed them over for examination. "Won't father be glad of this!" And off he ran a little later to tell his parent. Amos Radbury could scarcely speak, but his satisfaction shone in his eyes.

"It is a great relief," he murmured. "They cannot disturb my home now." And then he added with a sigh, "I wish I were there now!"

"All in good time, father," said Dan, affectionately. "We have truly nothing more to fear. Santa Anna is whipped and has already sent word that his other troops must withdraw. The independence of Texas is assured beyond a doubt."

Dan was right in what he said. Not long after Santa Anna's defeat the remainder of his army was in full retreat. As they fell back they were closely watched by the Texans, but no further fighting took place.

The government of Texas had retired to Galveston, but as soon as the victory of San Jacinto became known, President Burnett and his cabinet hurried to the Texan camp and opened negotiations with Santa Anna. The Mexican general was ready to promise almost anything in return for his liberty, and Houston suggested that he be made to recognise the independence of Texas, that the Rio Grande River should become the boundary between the independent State and Mexico, that all Texan prisoners should be released, that all private property should be restored, and numerous other things, all of which were afterward embodied in a treaty signed at Velasco.

Yet even then Santa Anna was not given his liberty. The people were aroused to the depths of their very souls and they feared that the "Mexican Butcher" could not be trusted. Against the advice of many he was put into prison, and it was not until nearly a year later that he was allowed to return to Mexico. Here he found himself "out in the cold" in more ways than one, and highly disgusted he retired to his estate at Mango del Clavo, not to be heard of again for some time to come.

With the closing of the war matters waxed hot in Texas politically, but with politics Amos Radbury had little to do. As soon as he was able, he returned to his ranch on the Guadalupe, where both he and Dan were received in a warm manner by Ralph and the ever faithful Poke Stover and Pompey.

"You are both heroes," cried the youngest Radbury. And then he added, with all the ardor of youth: "How I wish I had been along!"

"Never mind, lad, your time may come some day," said Poke Stover.

"If it dun cum dat boy will prove as brave as any of dem," said Pompey. "Yo' see, it's in de Radbury blood, wot fit in de Rebolution, de wah ob 1812 and de Injun wahs. Da can't help it no moah dan da kin help eatin', he! he!" And he slapped his thigh enthusiastically. That evening Pompey served the "spread of his life," as Dan designated it, and never were a party happier than the Radburys and Poke Stover as they sat and ate and drank, and talked over the many things which had happened since the first trouble with the Indians.

"But I am glad it is over," said Amos Radbury. "Glad it is over, and equally glad that we are all home once more."

* * * * *

Here let us bring to a close this tale of the war, "For the Liberty of Texas." Summer was now at hand, and as soon as Dan felt rested he and Ralph, assisted by Pompey, set to work to put the ranch in order and attend to the stock, which had suffered more or less from neglect. Later on, both Mr. Radbury and Poke Stover joined in the labour, and before fall everything was running as smoothly as it had the spring previous.

The liberty of Texas had been assured, but the people were not satisfied, and clamoured to be admitted to the United States. In a few years this was accomplished, and Texas became as she is to-day, the largest State in our glorious Union. Then followed trouble about the boundary line between the United States and Mexico, and soon war was declared between the two principal republics of North America. The further adventures of the Radburys before this war and through a portion of it will be told in the next volume of this series, to be entitled, "With Taylor on the Rio Grande," in which we shall meet all of our old friends once more, and learn what they did to defeat both their personal enemies and also the enemies of their country.

Yet for the time being all went well, and here we will say good-bye, echoing the shout Ralph gives as he dashes over the range on his pet mustang:

"Hurrah for the liberty of Texas! Hurrah for the heroes of San Jacinto!"

THE END.

* * * * *

MEXICAN WAR SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

VOLUME ONE

FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS

12mo Cloth Illustrated Price, $1.25

Much is told here of Sam Houston, Davy Crockett, Colonel Bowie, and other Texan heroes in connection with the entertaining story of the fortunes of two brothers, Dan and Ralph Radbury. The fall of the Alamo is introduced, and other famous incidents.

VOLUME TWO

WITH TAYLOR ON THE RIO GRANDE

12mo Cloth Illustrated Price, $1.25

As with each of the series, this is a complete story, but continues the adventures of the patriotic young Radbury brothers. They serve under General Taylor at Palo Alto, Monterey, and Buena Vista and share in the glory of "Old Rough and Ready."

VOLUME THREE

UNDER SCOTT IN MEXICO

12mo Cloth Illustrated Price, $1.25

In the concluding volume of this valuable historical series Dan and Ralph come under the command of Gen. Winfield Scott and finally bear their part in the triumphant entry of the proud city of Mexico.

* * * * *

These books were first issued under a pen name and by another publisher. We have now placed them in the regular list of this unequaled writer for boys, with an entirely new cover design in keeping with the uniformly rich appearance of our Stratemeyer books.

* * * * *

"There are few live boys in the country who have not read the intensely interesting books of Mr. Stratemeyer, and who do not have a warm place in their hearts for him. No living American writer of boys' books is so widely read, and none so sure of a cordial welcome for everything that comes from his pen."—Chicago News.



DAVE PORTER SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

12mo Cloth Illustrated $1.25 per volume

Mr. Stratemeyer has seldom introduced a more popular hero than Dave Porter. He is a typical boy, manly, brave, always ready for a good time if it can be obtained in an honorable way,—Wisconsin, Milwaukee, Wis.

"Edward Stratemeyer's 'Dave Porter' has become exceedingly popular."—Boston Globe.

"Dave and his friends are nice, manly chaps."—Times-Democrat, New Orleans.

DAVE PORTER AT OAK HALL Or the Schooldays of an American Boy

DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS Or The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

DAVE PORTER'S RETURN TO SCHOOL Or Winning the Medal of Honor

DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH Or The Pluck of an American Schoolboy

DAVE PORTER AND HIS CLASSMATES Or For the Honor of Oak Hall

DAVE PORTER AT STAR RANCH Or The Cowboy's Secret

DAVE PORTER AND HIS RIVALS Or the Chums and Foes of Oak Hall

* * * * *

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Publishers, Boston



THE LAKEPORT SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

12mo Cloth Illustrated $1.25 per volume

"The author of the Lakeport Series, Mr. Edward Stratemeyer, is well known for his delightful boys' stories."—Philadelphia Ledger.

"The Lakeport Series, by Edward Stratemeyer, is the lineal descendant of the better class of boys' books of a generation ago."—Christian Advocate, New York.

"The Lakeport Series will be fully as popular as the author's Dave Porter Series,"—San Francisco Call.

THE GUN CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT Or The Island Camp

THE BASEBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT Or The Winning Run

THE BOAT CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT Or The Water Champions

THE FOOTBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT Or More Goals Than One

THE AUTOMOBILE BOYS OF LAKEPORT Or A Run for Fun and Fame

* * * * *

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Publishers, Boston



COLONIAL SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

FIRST VOLUME

WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST

Or a Soldier Boy's Battles in the Wilderness

Illustrated by A. B. Shute 302 pages $1.25

Mr. Stratemeyer has woven into an excellent story something of Washington's youthful experience as a surveyor, leading on to the always thrilling Braddock's defeat. The hero, David Morris, is several years younger than Washington, with whom he becomes intimately associated. Pictures of pioneer life are given; scenes with friendly Indians; and old-time games.

SECOND VOLUME

MARCHING ON NIAGARA Or The Soldier Boys of the Old Frontier

Illustrated by A. B. Shute Price $1.25

The story relates the doings of two young soldiers who join the Colonial forces in a march on Fort Niagara, during the time of the war with France, when the whole territory between the Blue Ridge and the Great Lakes was in a state of unrest. Many side lights are thrown into the colonial homes, and much useful information is given of the pioneers who helped to make our country what it is to-day.

David Morris is a fine fellow, and about him is woven a fine "Injun" story that is sure to delight the boys.—Universalist Leader, Boston.

THIRD VOLUME

AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL Or a Soldier Boy's Final Victory

Illustrated by A. B. Shute Price $1.25

This volume relates the adventures of Dave Morris and his cousin Henry during the two last campaigns against the French for the possession of Canada and the territory below the great lakes. The scaling of the heights of Quebec under General Wolfe, and the memorable battle on the Plains of Abraham, are given in detail. There are many stirring scenes of battle, and there are also adventures while fishing and hunting, and with the Indians.

The chief charm of Mr. Stratemeyer's stories lies in the fact that an enormous quantity of valuable information, collected from the most reliable sources, is deftly woven into the narrative without taking away from the interest.—Philadelphia Inquirer.



COLONIAL SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

FOURTH VOLUME

ON THE TRAIL OF PONTIAC Or Pioneer Boys of the Ohio

Illustrated by A. B. Shute Price $1.25

This volume tells of times in our country immediately after the war with France for the possession of Canada. A fight with the Indians and the French in a snowstorm is especially realistic, and the entire book carries with it the atmosphere of colonial times.

Boys are attracted to stories by Edward Stratemeyer, and they will enjoy "On the Trail of Pontiac."—Plain Dealer, Cleveland, O.

VOLUME FIVE

THE FORT IN THE WILDERNESS Or The Soldier Boys of the Indian Trails

306 pages Illustrated by A. B. Shute Price $1.25

This story is one of the best tales of Colonial days penned by this favorite author for young people. A central figure is the noted Indian warrior, Pontiac, and the particulars are given of the rise and fall of that awful conspiracy against the whites, which will never be forgotten, and vivid pen pictures are given of fights in and around the forts and at a trading-post on the Ohio.

VOLUME SIX

TRAIL AND TRADING POST Or The Young Hunters of the Ohio

320 pages Illustrated Price $1.25

A fine closing volume to this deservingly popular series. Here we again meet the Morris boys, and many other friends. The plot centres about the possession of a certain trading-post on the Ohio River at a time just previous to the Revolution, and there are some encounters with the unfriendly Indians and with some Frenchmen who wished to claim the post as their own.

There are few authors whose books have so wide and so thoroughly satisfactory a reading as those by Mr. Stratemeyer—Courier, Boston



American Boys' Biographical Series

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

VOLUME ONE

AMERICAN BOYS' LIFE OF WILLIAM McKINLEY

300 pages Illustrated by A. B. Shute and from Photographs $1.25

Here is told the whole story of McKinley's boyhood days, his life at school and at college, his work as a school teacher, his glorious career in the army, his struggles to obtain a footing as a lawyer, his efforts as a Congressman and a Governor, and lastly his prosperous career as our President, all told in a style particularly adapted to boys and young men. The book is full of interesting anecdotes, all taken from life, showing fully the sincere, honest, painstaking efforts of a life cut all too short. The volume will prove an inspiration to all boys and young men, and should be in every library.

For nearly a year Mr. Stratemeyer has been gathering material and giving careful study to the life of the young William, his childhood, his boyhood, and all his inspiring and romantic history. The story was nearing its end when the awful finale came and tragedy ended the drama of President McKinley's life.—New York Journal.

VOLUME TWO

AMERICAN BOYS' LIFE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT

300 pages 12mo Illustrated from Photographs $1.25

This excellent work for young people covers the whole life of our strenuous executive, as schoolboy, college student, traveler, author, hunter and ranchman, as assemblyman, as civil service commissioner, as Assistant Secretary of the Navy, as a daring rough rider, as Governor of New York, and lastly as President. Full of stories taken from real life and told in a manner to interest both young and old.

We unreservedly recommend Mr. Stratemeyer's books for boys. They are wholesome, accurate as to historical details, and always interesting.—Boston Times.

THE END