The Mexican lines became silent save for a deep murmur.

In the south they heard the rapid beat of hoofs, and then Santa Anna came, galloping at the head of fifty horsemen.

Many of the younger officers ran forward, holding up torches, and the dictator rode in a blaze of light.
Ned looked once more upon that dark and singular face, a face daring and cruel, that might have belonged to one of the old conquistadores.

In the saddle his lack of height was concealed, but on the great white horse that he rode Ned felt that he was an imposing, even a terrible, figure.
His eyes were blazing with triumph as his army united with torches to do him honor.

It was like Napoleon on the night before Austerlitz, and what was he but the Napoleon of the New World?
His figure swelled and the gold braid on his cocked hat and gorgeous uniform reflected the beams of the firelight.
A mighty cheer from thousands of throats ran along the Mexican line, and the torches were waved until they looked like vast circles of fire.
Santa Anna lifted his hat and bowed three times in salute.