The Lost Gold of the Montezumas Part 29

The movements of the several a.s.signments of the Mexican army went on deliberately all through the day. The circle that was made was pretty long, however, and there were gaps between the camps which would require careful patrolling to make complete what Crockett described as "the corral of the Gringos."

"Anything like a provision-train, for instance," remarked Bowie, "couldn't get in without a battle. There isn't any American force yet gathered in Texas that could undertake to whip an army of five thousand men."

Night came at last, and with it came a moon instead of the darkness which Travis had been wishing for. It was not a good night for a secret messenger, and the mounted patrols of the enemy were going to and fro almost up to the walls of the fort.

"Their infantry outlooks are well out in advance of their lines,"

remarked Travis, standing in the gate-way. "I doubt if it's possible for Carson to get through."

"If I thought he couldn't I'd go myself," exclaimed Bowie. "I wish he were an Indian!"

"That's jest what I am," came from the brave ranger who had volunteered. "I've crept through a band of Chickasaws. My skelp isn't wuth as much as Bowie's is, anyhow. It's no use in talkin'. I'm off."

"You bet he is," quietly remarked a voice behind them, "and I'm goin'

with him the first stretch."

There stood Davy Crockett, rifle in hand.

"I'd feel better if you would," said Bowie. "You're an older hand than he is. See him as far as their lines and take note of everything,--and come back."

"Come back?" chuckled Davy. "Of course I will. I'll have some fun, too. Get along, Carson. I'm goin' to take keer of ye. You're young."

Off they went, and Travis laughed aloud as they disappeared.

"You wait now," he said. "Davy's goin' to stir up the Greasers somehow before he gets done with 'em, but I can't guess what the sell is."

It would have been only a very sombre life-and-death affair to men of another kind, but these were hardly excited to any unusual feeling.

They were in the daily habit of looking death in the face, and they could laugh at him. Nevertheless, during many minutes that followed, they and a changing group of rangers waited in the gate-way, listening silently to every sound that came to them from the hostile camps. A troop of horse went trampling by within a hundred yards of them and they heard the words of command. More minutes pa.s.sed and the stillness seemed to increase.

"We'd have heard something if the Greasers had sighted 'em," whispered one of the men. "They're not took yet----"

"Hear that gun!" shouted Travis, the next instant. "That means something!"

Another cannon sounded, and another, and then they heard the rapid reports of musketry from a score of points all along the lines.

"Bad luck!" groaned a ranger.

"They've got 'em!" said another.

"It's good-by, Davy Crockett, I'm afraid," said Bowie, in a voice that was deep with emotion. "We ought not to have let him go."

The expressions of regret for him and Carson were many and sincere, all around, but the cunning old bear hunter had been doing a remarkable piece of what pa.s.sed with him for fun.

Only about ten minutes before the first alarm gun sounded a pair of shadows had been gliding along on the ground, midway between the two camps that were nearest to the fort gate.

"So far, so good," whispered one of them. "What's best to do next?"

"Straight into the corral," was the reply. "I allers feel at hum among hosses. They're kind o' friendly. Besides, you've got to hev one to travel on."

A very large number of them, of all sorts, had been picketed there, a short distance in the rear of the camps. They were guarded, of course, but they were entirely out of the supposable reach of Gringo thieves from the fort, and the guards were taking things easily. So were the quadrupeds, and not one of them was at all disturbed in his mind when two men who might belong to the same army slipped silently in among them.

"No Greaser kin see through a hoss," remarked one of the adventurers, "but I'll tell you what, my boy, your tightest squeeze is goin' to be in gettin' out on the further side. They're guardin' thar rear more'n they are toward the fort. They're on the watch for anything Sam Houston may let loose on 'em."

That was in strict accordance with the military prudences of the situation, but for that very reason all the guards on duty were looking out instead of looking in. No patrol, for instance, beyond the camps, whether mounted or on foot, could at once imagine anything suspicious concerning a dim shape slowly tramping out from the horse corral. Only one did come, and he walked along leading with him a saddled and bridled mustang.

"Here comes the guard!" he suddenly exclaimed, aloud. "Now's my time.

I'll signal to Davy."

He sprang upon the back of the mustang, turned and blew a short, sharp whistle, and galloped away. Hundreds of men may have heard the whistle, but only one understood it. Not a solitary Mexican at once followed the vanishing horseman, and he quickly was beyond successful following.

Hoa.r.s.e shouts had gone after him, truly. Orders to halt, with Spanish inquiries and execrations, had sounded from all directions. It was understood that something or other had happened, and there were officers who at once began to investigate the matter.

The proper direction of their first efforts was plainly indicated by an extraordinary disturbance in the corral. Quite a large number of the horses were now loose and they were running around excitedly. It did not arise to the dignity of a stampede, but the guards who first rushed in came near being trampled down. These were joined at once by the too zealous sentries of a battery which had been stationed at the right of the corral, so that its guns were for the moment left to take care of themselves.

"Don't I wish I had some spikes?" inquired a very low, hoa.r.s.e chuckle that was crawling along at the side of one of the guns. "If I had I'd spile every touch-hole of this 'ere battery. Hullo! Thar they are. I reckon I kin shew 'em a new p'int in the right way of handlin'

artillery. That is, if ary one of these long fours is primed."

After that there came a clicking of flint and steel, and then a soft glow of fire close to the ground.

Louder grew the tumult in the corral, angrier and more numerously arose the shouts and commands of the officers.

"Jim Carson's got clean away from 'em, I reckon," was spoken more loudly, "but that lot of Greasers have marched to about the right spot.

Wonder what this thing is shotted with. Here she goes!"

A hand went up to the breech of the gun and then the first booming alarm went out.

"Reckon 'twas a round shot," he said. "It fetched 'em. One more."

A second gun spoke out, and then a third, in quick succession, but to Mexican ears it seemed the correct thing for any of their own guns to do in case of a sudden alarm at night. It would show the garrison that its besiegers were awake.

Nevertheless, the iron missiles had been sent with deadly effect among the luckless detachment of infantry, and every man of it who was left unhurt fired off his musket at the s.p.a.ce in front of him and the possible Gringos it might contain. Sentry after sentry, all along, in camp after camp, followed that example, front and rear. The very game-c.o.c.ks in their coops crowed vigorously, and the general himself came out of his tent to see what was the matter with them and with his army.

The artillerymen who now came hurrying back to their guns found no one with them,--nothing but an entirely unexplainable mystery. There were now no soldiers in front of the battery, however. The coast was clear, and across the moonlit area from which he had driven his enemies Davy Crockett strode on to the Alamo.

"Who goes there?" greeted him from the sentry at the gate.

"I ain't a-goin' jest now; I'm comin'," shouted back the very grim old joker, with a fierce laugh. "Travis, I reckon Jim Carson's all right.

We took him a good mount from thar own corral. But I fired them alarm guns myself. Wait till I git in and I'll tell jest how I did it, but I reckon the Greasers 'll think we've made a _sortee_."

Three cheers were given him, and these too were heard by the Mexicans to increase their perplexity. Something very like a _sortie_ had really been made, and the entire Mexican army was getting under arms.

One regiment marched a mile before it could be ordered back, but Santa Anna himself had preserved his military composure.

"_Caramba!_" he exclaimed, in reply to one of his officers. "Houston?

No! He has no force that he can send. We have nothing to deal with but the desperadoes inside of yonder walls, and we shall slaughter them to-morrow."

CHAPTER XIX.