It seemed that the flashing steel of the lances was at his throat.

He had already raised his rifle and was taking aim at the man in front of him, all his nerves now taut for the conflict.
"Fire!" cried Bowie, and sixteen rifles were discharged as one.
Not a bullet went astray.

The Mexican line was split asunder, and horses and men went down in a mass.

A few, horses and men, rose, and ran across the plain.

But the wings of the Mexican force closed in, and continued the charge, expecting victory, now that the rifles were empty.