The Lost Gold of the Montezumas Part 32

"Ugh!" exclaimed the chief as he stepped inside. "Jim heap Mexican.

Where Red Wolf? Chief want him."

"Colonel Smith!" instantly called out his companion, "I played Greaser to git through their lines. How'd you do it?"

"That young Lipan wolf did it," he said. "He led us 'round to the west'ard, and we hadn't anything to do but to follow him. They thought our party was one of their own patrols. We didn't lose a man. Colonel Bonham got in all alone."

No more explanations could be given then and there, for Carson had made his daring experiment that he might bring encouraging despatches from the President and that he might not break his word about returning.

Travis opened the letter handed him and he read it where he stood.

"It's all right, men," he said. "The whole state is rising. If we can hold the fort a little longer the boys 'll come!"

Hearty cheers responded, and Carson was at once taken possession of by his fellow-rangers that they might pump him of all the news he had gathered while away.

"Ugh! Heap boy!" said Castro.

Before him stood Red Wolf, and during two or three minutes they talked rapidly in their own tongue. As soon as the chief ceased speaking, Travis approached him and held out a hand.

"Glad Travis no dead," said Castro, heartily. "Where Big Knife? Where Crockett?"

"Here we are!" responded the latter from a little behind him. "But what on all the 'arth fetched you into the fort jest now? Did the Greasers say you might come a-visitin'?"

The Lipan warrior turned on his heel and stalked away to the battered patch of the wall, followed by his white friends. He stepped up upon the heap of ruins and studied it for a moment.

"Castro see Mexican," he said. "See Bravo. Heap friend. Lipans no fight 'em. Tell 'em all Lipans lie down in lodge. Tell Bravo walk through wall. Come back. Tell Mexican. Bravo say, Castro go see fort. Now! Ugh! Tell Travis, tell Big Knife, one sleep. Mexican come take Texan hair."

"Jest so," replied Crockett. "They're goin' to try that hole to-morrow morning? We'll pile it high with Greasers."

"All right, chief," added Travis, "tell them all they want to know.

It's a fair trade for letting us know they're coming. You can't tell anything to hurt us."

"Ugh!" said Castro. "Chief take Red Wolf. Go hide in Santa Anna camp.

See fight. Boy go tell Houston how Travis."

"Good!" replied Travis. "Just the thing. Let him set out as soon as the fight is over. I'd like to have old Sam know just how it turns out. So far, we've beaten 'em every time."

"Castro heap friend," said the chief, and took from under his blanket a deerskin-covered parcel closely tied. "Big Knife want powder. Take present. Shoot heap."

About two pounds of the best rifle powder, therefore, was his last contribution to the defence of the fort.

"Now if that isn't just what we wanted!" shouted Crockett. "I say, Bowie, divide fair. I've only five charges myself. Pistols empty."

Some of the others were as badly off, and shortly afterwards it might have been noted that Bowie's belt fairly bristled with the short-barrelled but deadly weapons known as "Derringers," from the name of their manufacturer.

"There is going to be a use for them," he quietly remarked to Travis.

"If I'm not mistaken, every bullet 'll find a mark to-morrow."

"Look out," returned Travis. "Don't you go and get yourself only wounded."

"No!" almost shouted Bowie. "But what if I am? Could I quit if there was a breath of life left in me? Travis, they don't intend to take any prisoners."

"There won't be any to take," he replied, but his friend drew him aside, farther out of any risk of being heard by others.

"One thing more," said Bowie. "I want to get together all the men that went down into Mexico with me. Crockett, too. The chief and his son are going. They don't count just now. They'll never tell anyhow, but somebody ought to live and keep that treasure-secret. It must be found for Texas some day."

"We might draw cuts for a man to get away with it," suggested Travis, "but he'd have no chance. I don't see what we can do. You and I are sure to go down."

Castro and Red Wolf were standing by their ponies in the plaza. They were not members of the garrison. They were not white citizens of Texas. There was no reason why they should remain to meet the last onset of Santa Anna's army. Each of them had done all that he could for his personal friendships.

"Ugh!" said Castro. "No want more shake hand. Come. Go talk Bravo.

Tell Mexican heap. Great chief lose friend. Ugh!"

The gate had been opened for them and they mounted at once, but as they were pa.s.sing through the portal Red Wolf turned and took a swift, earnest survey of the interior of the fort. It was all quiet, all peaceful. The cannon watched silently at their embrasures. The rangers walked hither and thither unconcernedly. The church front wore a calm and placid look. The sun was shining brightly. The one dark spot full of evil omen was the heap of rubbish in the breach of the wall.

"Ugh!" said Red Wolf, mournfully. "Big Knife fight a heap. Great chief!"

More than one demand for surrender had been sent in and had been rejected. During several days, however, any other communication with the fort had been strictly forbidden. The Mexican general, nevertheless, had not been unwilling to permit the visit of Castro, and when the chief returned now, he speedily found himself in front of Santa Anna's marquee.

"Heap boy in fort," he replied to a question from General Sesma.

"Great chief go get him. Red Wolf no Texan. Good!"

There was no apparent importance in the presence or absence of one unarmed young Indian, and Santa Anna hardly looked at him while he questioned his father closely concerning the aspect of affairs in the fort. There was no use to the garrison to be gained by Castro's concealment of anything that a telescope in the camp could discover, but the Mexican commander exhibited a deep interest in the exact character and dimensions of the hole his artillery had made in the wall.

"_Caramba!_" exclaimed Castrillon. "I'll pitch a few more shot into it in the morning. How many of the rebels have we killed?"

"Texan feel good!" replied Castro. "Big gun no hurt him."

Many and loud were the execrations uttered when he explained himself further and positively affirmed that all their cannonading and musketry had not disabled a solitary Texan.

"We shall do better to-morrow," said Santa Anna, with a cynical grin.

"How are their provisions?"

"Little eat," said Castro. "Texan lie in fort. No make fire. No kettle."

"Short of rations, eh?" said General Cos. "That's a point, general.

We might starve 'em out. We have lost a great many men----"

"We had better lose twice as many," sharply interrupted his commander, "than to waste any more time here. Houston is getting his volunteers in hand. We must have the Alamo to-morrow if it costs us a thousand men!"

"What Santa Anna say now to great chief?" asked Castro. "What tell Lipan?"

His inquiry was made somewhat haughtily, but the response came at once with extreme graciousness and courtesy. The Lipans were to consider themselves the fast friends of the Mexican republic, their chief was to call himself the brother of its President, and Castro and Red Wolf were led away to a camp-fire where plentiful rations awaited them. It was not a time when the invaders of Texas were willing to make additional enemies.

It was not altogether a cheerful time for them. Really, the greatest element of uncertainty of success in the proposed a.s.sault of the fort was the dispirited, defeated feeling that prevailed among the Mexican troops. It was to obviate that defect in their fighting qualities that Colonel Campos, of the infantry, received orders that night to issue liberal rations of _aguardiente_, or Mexican whiskey, as soon as the several battalions should march into their respective positions.

"Colonel," said Santa Anna, "their feathers are down a little. Make them so drunk they won't know whether they are killed or not. Who cares? We have plenty to take their places if we win a victory."

More _peones_ and _rancheros_ could be expended to any extent provided he could retain his autocratic grip upon the reins of power.