General Santa Anna presently spoke again. He said that he was ready to discuss upon what terms he should be released. General Houston replied that only the government of the Republic of Texas could decide these matters.

“Where is the government, general?” inquired Santa Anna.

“The members, sir, will be sent for, by the messenger who will announce to them the triumph of the Texas arms,” reproved General Houston. “Meantime I require of you that you immediately dispatch an order to your second in command, General Filisola, that he and General Gaona shall upon receipt of it retire with all their troops to Bexar. General Urrea also shall retire with his command to Guadalupe Victoria, and prisoners are to be released.”

This was delivered in such a tone that Santa Anna accepted the pen proffered to him, and on a pad of paper inscribed the orders. Deaf Smith and Henry Karnes were sent with them to General Filisola, back on the Brazos. Santa Anna appeared anxious to do anything to save his own life.

Pretty well exhausted by the interview, General Houston directed that Santa Anna be placed in the tent which belonged to him, and closely guarded. Scarcely was he being led away, followed by black looks while the crowd slowly dispersed, when another scene occurred.

A loud voice, rising above the shouts and the laughter of the camp guard, echoed among the trees; and a large red-haired woman, in flapping sun-bonnet, with bare feet striding under the torn hem of her calico dress, came pushing and shoving her way, straight for the general’s oak.

“I want Gin’ral Houston!” she proclaimed. “Where’s the gin’ral? Show him to me, wance.”

“That ees the SeÑora Peggy McCormick,” whispered young de Zavala, who had joined the four boys. “She leeve here on Peggy Bay.”

Ernest leaped in front of her.

“You can’t see the general,” he informed. “He’s been wounded.”

“Aw, out of the way wid ye,” ordered Peggy McCormick; and Ernest received a vigorous push that sent him whirling. “I’ve no time for boys. ’Tis the gin’ral I want.”

The men were whooping and laughing. They must have pointed out to her the general’s tree, for she quickly arrived there.

“Be you the gin’ral?” she demanded.

“Madam, I am General Sam Houston,” he answered, very gallantly. “You will pardon my not rising. What can I do for you?”

“Take your men off me league,” stormed the red-haired woman.

“Are you the owner of this land hereabouts, lady?” queried the general.

“I am. I own it all—three square miles. Take your men off me league, or I’ll have the law on yez. Yez had no permission of mine to fight your battle on my league.”

“But, lady——” attempted the polite general.

Peggy would not listen.

“Take your men off me league immejiately, I say.”

“But, lady,” persisted the general, “to remove my army at this moment is impossible. We will try to do your property no damage.”

“Yez have already fought wan battle here and trampled down my grass and broke my trees,” stormed Peggy. “Take your men off me league.”

“Madam,” assured the general, with never a smile, “your wishes will be obeyed at the earliest possible moment. Colonel Forbes,” he directed, “will you see that this lady is furnished a proper escort to her habitation.”

Muttering indignantly, and still insisting that the Texas army be “taken off her league,” Peggy was conducted away by a file of soldiers.

“She came out with a broomstick, during the battle,” giggled Sion, “and she started in to whale both armies, for ‘fighting on me league’!”

The laughter at the courageous Peggy McCormick soon died. General Santa Anna had not been forgotten. Most of the army were hot with the determination that he should be executed. There were men who threatened that if General Houston did not order him shot, they themselves would shoot him at their first chance. He was kept under close guard, at his large tent near the general’s headquarters tree.

“The Texas government will make the biggest kind of a mistake if it decides to execute Santa Anna,” asserted Dick Carroll. “And General Houston knows it. Not but what Santa Anna ought to pay with his life, if that’s ever proper punishment; but as long as we hold him, the Mexican people will agree to ’most anything we ask. If we kill him, that’s the end. There’ll be another dictator, and more war, for Mexico’ll have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Besides, then they’ll go ahead with more massacres. Now we have our chance to keep the balance of power; and we can show to the world that we can take prisoners, and not murder ’em the way the Mexicans do.”

A number of the other cooler heads agreed with Dick. To Ernest his words sounded very sensible.

Captain Robert Calder and a small party were sent by the general to bear the news of the victory and the capture of Santa Anna to President Burnet and cabinet, at Galveston Island. They left by skiff, to descend the bayou and the bay.

Jim laughed.

“I know why the captain’s so willing to row a boat,” he said. “He’s got a girl down on the island, and he’s honing to see her.”

Leo also set out on a borrowed horse. The refugees who had fled east were already returning; they could be seen collecting at Lynchburg and crossing the San Jacinto by Lynch’s ferry. Leo had learned that his mother and family were among them; so no wonder that away he went, in haste.

The army stayed in camp on the bayou. At night the wolves could be heard howling on the battle-field. More prisoners were brought in by the ranging scouts, who smoked them out by setting fire to the prairie. On April 24, the second day after the capture of Santa Anna, General Cos was found wandering in the bottoms along the Brazos River. When he was turned over to the guard at the camp, he sank down, paralyzed with fear, and covered himself head and all with a blanket—which trembled so, that, as Sion declared, “the leaves of the trees rustled”!

The refugees visited the battle-field and the camp, and there were cheers renewed and many reunions. Leo brought his sister in to see Santa Anna. He introduced the three boys to her. All the refugees of the Runaway Scrape were on their way home again, and the ferry at Lynchburg was busy day and night.

Although General Houston was unable to move, he took good care that nobody harmed Santa Anna—or General Cos, either, who had broken his word of honor, given at Bejar last December, that he would not again oppose the cause of liberty in Texas.

May 1 President Burnet and some of the cabinet arrived at camp, on the steamboat Yellowstone. The Yellowstone showed that she, too, had been in the war. Her single smokestack was riddled with bullet-holes, and her wood-work was gashed and splintered. After she had ferried the army across the Brazos at Groce’s, she had taken a load of refugees down the Brazos to the gulf. The Mexicans had bombarded her from the banks, and had tried to catch her by casting reatas [ropes] at her; but she got through, and here she was, again.

The first thing done was to distribute the spoils of battle so that the soldiers might be paid a little money. The captured property was sold, here and there, for $18,184.87. Three thousand dollars of this was voted to the Texas navy. The handsome saddle of Santa Anna was presented to General Houston by unanimous voice. So was General Almonte’s superb black horse—the prize of Henry Karnes. The general at first refused to accept the horse, and insisted that it be sold along with the other property; but the army sent it back to him.

From the fund raised, every soldier received $7.50.

“Shucks!” exclaimed Jim to Ernest. “Did we lie out in the mud a month and a half for this?”

“Well, we helped make Texas free,” reminded Ernest.

“That’s right,” Jim agreed. “I reckon I’d do the same over again, for no money at all.”

The cabinet discussed a long time with General Houston what should be done with Santa Anna. The general still insisted that his life be spared; most of the army and the majority of the cabinet insisted that he be executed. However, finally the general won, and the cabinet decided to spare his life and compel him to sign a treaty guaranteeing to recognize the independent Republic of Texas. Colonel Rusk, the secretary of war, already had drawn up an outline of the proposed treaty, in accordance with the general’s suggestions.

The cabinet made ready to return to Galveston Island, taking Santa Anna and other captured officers with them; and the wound of General Houston was so serious, by this time, that he was ordered by the surgeons to go also.

So on May 5 the army were paraded for him. He could not be present, but the adjutant read his farewell orders.

The order was read amidst perfect silence, while the army leaned on their muskets and rifles, at parade rest, and the cavalry sat their horses at ease. When the adjutant concluded, the timber and prairie rang with cheers for Sam Houston. Through all their impatience on the march and in camp, the army had learned to love him, and his noble praise struck to their hearts. Ernest found himself rather weepy; but when he saw that Jim and some of the men were wet eyed, he was not ashamed.

The general was immediately transferred by steamboat, with the cabinet and the Mexican officers, to Galveston Island; a great crowd of soldiers and other people gathered at the landing to see them off.

From Galveston Island the general was taken on a steamboat to New Orleans, for surgical treatment. His ankle had not improved, and he was in poor shape. The treaty as he had suggested was signed by Santa Anna, May 14, at Velasco on the gulf coast.

As president of Mexico, Santa Anna promised not to oppose the independence of Texas; hostilities were to cease; all Mexican troops were to be removed from Texas soil; any supplies taken were to be paid for, and property already taken or destroyed was to be paid for, also; prisoners were to be exchanged, man for man; and Santa Anna himself was to be sent to Vera Cruz, of Mexico, at the proper time.

It was rumored that there was another, and secret treaty, by which Santa Anna agreed to have the independence of Texas acknowledged, formally, by the Mexican cabinet, and the limits of the Republic of Texas recognized as extending to the Rio Grande River.

Colonel Rusk had been appointed as temporary commander-in-chief, while General Houston was laid up because of his wound, and Colonel Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar, the cavalry commander, was appointed the secretary of war. The army left San Jacinto and the oak timber, and marched westward to follow on the heels of General Filisola and see that the Mexican troops really retired from Texas.

It proved to be a troubled summer. Many of the volunteers went home, on discharge or on furlough. Leo and Sion and Jim dropped out; and with Dick, Ernest finally rode into Gonzales again, where the people already were rebuilding their houses.

A large number of volunteers from the United States joined the army. The news of the victory of San Jacinto had aroused much new enthusiasm. The main portion of the army stayed at Victoria, about sixty miles south of Gonzales, on the Guadalupe. The army kept increasing, by enlistments and by reinforcements from the United States; for it was reported that Mexico was to attempt a fresh invasion, from Matamoros on the east coast. This, however, fell through.

Meanwhile, General Rusk was having hard work to control his men. He seemed not to have the influence that Sam Houston had had—although he was a brave and popular leader. The government attempted to send Santa Anna to Vera Cruz, and some United States volunteers at Velasco insisted that he be landed again, and tried for his life. President Burnet was powerless, for fear that he would lose his whole army, and Santa Anna was again confined on shore.

But General Houston, though still weak from his wound, had returned slowly to San Augustine near Nacogdoches. He heard of the threats regarding Santa Anna, and sent a message to General Rusk, protesting the proposed trial.

He said that to deliver Santa Anna over for trial and execution would be the act of savages; it would also endanger the lives of all Americans in Mexico, and would blacken Texas in the eyes of the United States, for Texas would stand convicted of having broken the terms of the treaty.

There was then much talk of annexation to the United States. Delegates had been sent to Washington, to ask the United States to intercede between Texas and Mexico in behalf of a settlement of all disputes. The delegates were to ask, also, that Texas be admitted into the Union.

The enraged army listened to the appeal of their general, and instead of being tried for his life, Santa Anna, who had been dreadfully frightened again, was removed inland to Columbia, the new capital, down on the lower Brazos.

However, President Burnet was so disliked by the army, because of the failure to pay them, and because of his endeavor to uphold the treaty and release Santa Anna, that he was directed by petition to call an election for permanent president of the Republic of Texas. Therefore he set the date of September 1.

All these matters came to the ears of Dick and Ernest, who were at home in Gonzales, cultivating their corn. Ernest had planted his kernel of “San Jacinto” corn, and it had sprouted. He spent more time on this than he did on the whole forty acres!

It did seem as though General Houston ought to be made president; but Stephen Austin, the Father of Texas, was being mentioned. He, too, certainly deserved honors. At any rate, the Texas soldiers were strong for their general. They would accept no other leader; not they! While the general was still invalided, the Texas government decided that by his absence he had forfeited his command, and Colonel Mirabeau Lamar, the brilliant cavalryman, now secretary of war, was appointed new commander-in-chief. When he arrived at the army headquarters, to assume the command, the army protested.

At the parade there were a few cries of “Lamar!” and “Rusk!” (who wished to retire), and a thunderous shout of “Houston! Sam Houston!” So the matter was put to vote. It resulted: Sam Houston, over 1500; Mirabeau Lamar, only 179! There could be no mistake as to how the soldiers felt.

For the election of president of the Republic of Texas two candidates entered, at first: dear Stephen Austin, and Ex-Governor Henry Smith of the dispute with the council in the preceding winter. Word came that General Houston declined to run; but great mass-meetings at Nacogdoches, and San Augustine, and Columbia, and other towns, insisted that he run.

He received 4374 votes; Henry Smith, 745; and Stephen Austin, 587. Colonel Lamar, now a general, was elected vice-president. The Texas people also voted almost unanimously for annexation to the United States. The United States congress had decided to recognize Texan independence. And things looked bright.

When he heard the news, Dick Carroll swung his hat.

“I was sure of it!” he cried, to Ernest. “Four years ago didn’t Sam Houston say, on setting out for Texas: ‘I shall yet be president of a great republic’? And he said, too: ‘I shall bring that nation to the United States’! That will come. He’s trying for it—he and Andy Jackson; and ’cording to the votes, the people are with him. We’ll go down to Columbia and see him inaugurated, if we have to walk!”

President Burnet and Vice-president Lorenzo de Zavala decided to resign. Therefore the inauguration was unexpectedly set for an early date—October 22, a year from that October of 1835 when the first victory of the war was won, under Jim Bowie and Colonel Fannin, at Concepcion on the way to Bejar. Poor Bowie and Fannin were gone, and so was many another brave Texan soldier; but Texas was free and Sam Houston was president.

The Texas Congress was in session at Columbia. An enormous crowd hastily gathered for the inauguration. All the notables were there: Stephen Austin, and Ex-Governor Smith, and Dr. Branch T. Archer, and the two Whartons, and Captain Moseley Baker, and Colonel Sidney Sherman, and Henry Karnes, and Deaf Smith—in fact, every San Jacinto soldier, especially, who could possibly get there. Yes, Jim, and Sion, and Leo, to form with Ernest a squad of cheering, happy veterans.

“Have you seen the general, yet?” demanded Sion.

“No. Where is he?” answered Ernest.

“He’s been ’round here a couple of weeks and more. About the first thing he did was to drop down and call on Santa Anna, at the Phelps ranch, below. They say Santa Anna simply fell on his neck and bawled; and the general patted him on the back and said: ‘There, there!’ and promised to do what he could for him.”

“I don’t know,” spoke Jim, thoughtfully, “but seems to me we might as well let Santa Anna go. We’ve held him prisoner all these months, and part of the time he’s been in irons and afraid of assassination besides.”

“Well, Mexico kept Stephen Austin shut up for near two years,” retorted Sion. “About killed him, too.”

“That ought not to be the American and Texas way, though,” voiced Leo, agreeing with Jim. “Nobody hates Santa Anna worse than I do; but we made a treaty, promising to release him, and we’ve never done it. The general says that after the battle of San Jacinto we started in to be merciful; and now it’s got down to the question of whether we’ll be just. Santa Anna’s nothing to us; he’s only one man; the United States is siding with us and we can take care of ourselves. President Andy Jackson himself is watching, and he and Sam Houston stand right together on what is what. Didn’t Jackson write to Santa Anna, telling him to depend on Houston to see him through safely according to the treaty, and saying: ‘Let those who clamor for blood, clamor on. The world will take care of Houston’s fame!’”

“That Santa Anna’s a murderer, just the same,” argued Sion, the stubborn. “He murdered our men at the Alamo and at Goliad. And his word’s no good. The Mexican government claims that whatever he signs as a prisoner doesn’t count.”

“Stephen Austin and General Jackson and Sam Houston say he ought to be released, though. Texas promised that,” insisted Leo.

“All right, release him, then,” consented Sion. “I think he ought to be taken over to Goliad and killed on the spot where Fannin’s men were killed; but let him go. He won’t amount to much in Mexico, anyway, and he’ll stir up trouble enough there to keep ’em all busy at home.”

“How’s the general looking?” invited Ernest, changing the subject.

“Powerful thin and peaked,” responded Leo. “I reckon he near died. They took twenty pieces of bone out of his ankle, down at New Orleans, before they could start the wound to healing.”

General Houston was sworn into office at four o’clock that afternoon of October 22, and immediately delivered his inauguration address. The senators and representatives of the Republic of Texas sat before him. On the platform were the cabinet officers and the Speaker of the House, and several distinguished guests. The crowd of other citizens and soldiers reached into the street.

When he arose and advanced with a slight limp, a rousing round of cheers and yells and hand-clapping hailed him. He wore a suit of black broadcloth, with his sword belted about his waist. He was indeed thin, his face was seamed by suffering, but his great blue eyes flashed, and his voice pealed strong and vibrant as of yore.

The address was rendered without notes, for he had been given only a few hours’ notice of when it would be expected. Meantime he had been kept busy greeting friends and comrades. Nevertheless, a wonderful address it was. How the words rang through the hall! He spoke of the position now occupied by Texas before the eyes of the world; of the fight for liberty, and of the necessity of being still vigilant against Mexico. He said that the Indians should be treated justly, and their friendship gained. And he thanked the people of the United States for the aid they had sent, in men and money and guns, and hoped that Texas would soon be welcomed into the Union of American freemen.

Here the general hesitated.

“Pshaw! He’s taking off his sword!” whispered Sion. And so he was. He was fumbling at the buckle of the belt, in front, until he had unclasped it.

The general choked. His voice failed. He held the scabbard in one hand and drew the sword from it, with the other. He gazed upon the blade, and his eyes filled. Throughout the hall sounded a deep sigh of suspense and sympathy. Suddenly the general slipped the sword back into the scabbard, and with both hands extended the hilt to the Speaker.

He turned away and limped to his seat. The air rocked with the shouts for President Sam Houston, the Hero of San Jacinto. The four boys looked upon one another with glistening eyes.

“Jiminy! Wasn’t that great!” stammered Ernest.

The others nodded. They were too full for utterance.

Thus Sam Houston was installed, by the wish of his people, to guide Texas through its first years of independence. He at once appointed Stephen Austin his Secretary of State, and Henry Smith his Secretary of the Treasury. Then, against the wish of the Senate, he released Santa Anna and sent him to confer with President Jackson of the United States regarding methods by which Mexico could be induced to recognize the Texas Republic. From Washington Santa Anna went home to Mexico, to scheme again—but not for Texas. His scheming was for himself.

This fall died Lorenzo de Zavala the Mexican, loyal Texas patriot. This winter died Stephen Austin. Thus was President Houston deprived of two good councillors. On Buffalo Bayou and the prairie battle-field of San Jacinto rose the new town of Houston, and thither the capital of Texas was removed. Thither, also, removed Sam Houston.

He served Texas three times as president, and again as Senator to Washington; and every hour of his Texas life he served as guide and adviser, his face always set firmly for a future and not merely for the present. Whether the people liked what he did, he cared not, as long as he thought that he was right.

Each time, under Houston rule, the Republic of Texas prospered; but until formally annexed by the United States in 1845 it had a hard road to travel. Mexico constantly threatened it; and the two attempts that it made to invade Mexico resulted in horrid failures. Jim Hill’s youngest brother, John, enlisted in one of these, and was captured.

As for Ernest, he was granted land as a soldier of San Jacinto, and the day came at last when he could send for his mother. He built her a house with a court, too, like the court into which he and Jim had peeped, from the roof of the de la Garza house in Bejar. Here she grandly sat, among the flowers—and occasionally fed sugar, as a special treat, to lazy Duke, the graying old war-horse, while he and Ernest, and Jim and Leo and Sion, and Dick, on their visits, exchanged stories of the stirring days of ’35 and ’36; of the heroic Travis, Fannin, Jim Bowie, Bonham, Captain Dickinson, and all; and of “the general”—always their general—patient, energetic, far-seeing General Sam Houston.