Page:Notes of the Mexican war 1846-47-48.djvu/342

336 This evening the last of our beef has just been issued by our Commissary. So we will soon be out of beef and wood, and for some time only on half rations. The cry is, "What will become of us?" If Gen. Lane don't soon arrive to our relief, God only knows what will become of us, for we have resolved never to surrender, and the Mexicans have threatened that if we don't soon surrender they will make this a second Alamo. Yet we still live in hopes of our train coming shortly. God speed to it and guide it safely through the fiery and threatening storm.

There is scarcely any firing going on now, so I think the Mexicans will obey the armistice during the time named.

To-night, about 12 o'clock, while my attention was drawn to our quarters, I was suddenly attacked by three Mexicans from behind; one of these villains tried to stab me in my back, but the point of his dagger, hitting my cartridge-box belt, it glanced off, while the other greaser rushed in front of me, trying to take my rifle from me. At this instant I pushed the Mexican in front of me backwards and he fell into the street; at this time I wheeled around and shot the one who was trying to stab me in the back; he fell, but soon got up again, and the other two carried him off in their arms before I had a chance to reload again. This whole transaction of attempting to assassinate me was all done in about ten seconds. I must have shot the Mexican in the groin, because he was putting his hand there and groaning. The sentinel at Post 5 heard the scrambling and shot fired. I sent for the Sergeant of the guard, who soon reported himself, after which I related to him the circumstances: he remarked that I was the luckiest man in the whole garrison for narrow escapes. Oh! I was wishing I only had a double-barreled gun at the time!

Sunday October 10, 1847.—This morning it gives me pleasure to note that the armistice is fully carried out on both sides, there being no firing.

This is a lovely morning; the sun came up from behind the hills clear and bright, and it reminds me of the many Sabbaths