The Lost Gold of the Montezumas: A Story of the Alamo

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE PERILOUS PATH.

  Can the mere possession of a secret turn a brave man into a coward?One would think not, and yet the entire demeanor and conduct of ColonelBowie underwent a change. It seemed to be growing upon him, as he ledthe way down the pass and out into the valley. His men, too, hardenedfrontiersmen and Indian fighters as they were, responded almostnervously to his every suggestion of extreme watchfulness.

  There were good reasons for it all. They had reached the valley inpeace, but no one could guess by what eyes their arrival had beennoted, or what forces might be gathering to strike a blow at them.

  The dark clans of the Mexican mountains were known to be courageous.No other men had a greater disregard for either the lives of other menor their own. They had succeeded in protecting their fastnesses soperfectly that the Spanish and then the several Mexican governments hadconsented to let them alone. As to the latter, indeed, the shorthistory of Mexico as an independent state had been, thus far, littlebetter than the record of struggles for power between warring chiefsand factions. Whoever at any date had been temporarily in authorityhad had quite enough to do to maintain his own supremacy. There hadbeen few troops to spare for operations against the red men of theNorth, and none at all for the penetration of the really undiscoveredcountry which contained such remnants as Tetzcatl and his comrades ofthe cave.

  "They could wipe us out, boys," was the freely expressed opinion allaround, and they were ready, as Joe expressed it, "to just sneak allthe way back, if we've any idee of comin' this way ag'in after thatpewter."

  Bowie's own calculations continually went on beyond the dangers of theroad.

  "I've got to reach Houston," he said, "and set him at work with thosedollars. We can make up a force to come again with. I can trustCrockett and Travis. We can have our pick of men. But we needn't letthe rank and file know the whole thing. One of 'em might let it outtoo soon. If we work still enough, we can ride across all this countryand hardly stir up the Mexicans. One big mule train 'll carry allthere is in the cave. We can get it across the Rio Grande, perhaps,without having to fire a shot. Not that I mind fighting, if it comesto that, but as soon as it's all landed as far as the Alamo, therepublic of Texas is a made nation. We can arm all the men we canraise, and we can whip Santa Anna out of his boots."

  It was the fate of the future that was in his mind and on hisshoulders. If he should now get himself killed, with his little bandof rangers, who would ever know where to come for the treasures of theMontezumas?

  As for Red Wolf, the secret did not trouble him. It did not seem tobelong to him at all. Nevertheless, it was entirely in accord with hisideas that a war-party, returning through an enemy's country, shouldtravel as stealthily as so many wild animals.

  That first night no fire was kindled, and the march began again beforethe sun was up. Before the end of the next day one worn-out horse hadto be left behind.

  "We'll use 'em all up if need be," remarked Bowie. "All I want is toget to the chaparral with critters enough to go home from there on awalk."

  It was on one of those days of watchful, tiresome pushing for the menwho had the secret to carry and the ingots of gold from the cave, butit was hundreds of miles away from them that a group of veryserious-looking men sat around a table in a log farm-house. If it wereany kind of council, the conversational part of it had momentarilyceased and they all were thinking silently.

  A heavy step sounded outside the door; it swung suddenly open, and avoice not at all loud but very much in earnest startled them to theirfeet.

  "Here I am, Houston! They're coming!"

  "Crockett!" shouted the astonished general. "I thought you were inWashington."

  "Well, I ain't, then," responded the grim bear-killer, throwing hiscoonskin cap violently upon the table. "I didn't git beyond NewOrleans. I found a heap of letters thar, and thar was all sorts ofdeviltry in 'em. It's no use to look for anything from Congress thissession, and that ain't the wust of it."

  "Out with it, colonel," came from across the table. "Let's have itall. We were having a blue time anyhow."

  "Stingy! stingy! stingy!" roared Crockett. "Everybody's afraid to putin a cent. Not a dollar to be had, nor any pound of stuff without thedollars. You see, boys, the trouble is the news from Mexico. SantaAnna was at Monterey gathering his best troops and getting ready tocome after us. Thar are several regiments already down near Matamorason the coast getting supplies by the sea. Every friend of ours seemsto be skeered. They reckon we'll be chawed up."

  "Not so easy," came again from across the table. "I reckon theGreasers have got their work cut out."

  "Travis," said Crockett, "I'm glad you're here. Have you heard fromBowie?"

  "Not a word," replied Travis, "except that he and Castro had some kindof a brush with the Comanches, and another with Bravo's lancers.Reckon it was all right. He's just the kind of fellow to pull through."

  Even while he spoke, however, the bright-faced ranger colonel caughtCrockett's eye and sent him a look that prevented further questioning.

  "Time for us to be moving," said Houston, steadily. "We'll gather whatforces we can. The first thing is the Alamo. We can send a prettygood lot of rations."

  "Powder!" said Travis, with energy, "What the Alamo needs is powder.And we want men enough to handle guns."

  "You shall have them," said Houston. "Texas won't leave you in thelurch. Go and put things in as good condition as you can."

  "All right," said Travis; but Crockett was eager to learn whatever newsmight be had around the table, and he lingered to get it all. At lasthe and Travis walked out into the open air, and they were no sooneralone than the latter turned and looked his friend in the face.

  "Crockett," he said, "either Bowie is wiped out, or he and his men haveridden down into Mexico after that gold of Tetzcatl's."

  "That's what he's done, then," said Crockett, confidently. "He's acritter that 'll take no end of killing. He had the right sort of menwith him. What I want is to see him back ag'in, gold or no gold, andto have him with us when the Greasers come for the Alamo. I mean to bethar myself."

  "Crockett," replied Bowie, "Sam Houston is mistaken. He can't raise adollar. All we've got to depend on is the men. We'll take our pick,though, and we can hold that fort against all the ragamuffins south ofthe Rio Grande."

  On they walked, talking as they went, but if they could have had a lookat some of Santa Anna's "ragamuffins" they might not have felt soconfident.

  In the great plaza of the city of Monterey, in front of the church, aregiment of infantry was at that hour paraded for inspection. Theirarms were good, for they had just been imported from across theAtlantic. Their uniforms were new. Their drill was fair. They seemedto be well handled. They were not by any means, in appearance atleast, the kind of soldiers to be despised by a half-armed garrison ofan old _adobe_ fort. Even the stone part of the Alamo defences mightbe in danger, for a battery of heavy cannon was drawn up near them. Infront of the line were halted a dozen or so of officers on horseback,brilliant in equipment, whose bronzed and bearded faces wore a verywarlike look.

  Encamped near the city walls, outside, were other regiments and otherbatteries. What could the Texans mean by their contempt for the forceswhich were to come against them? What hope had their poverty-strickenlittle state in a struggle against such numbers and such resources asnow were gathering to conquer it?

  The review was over. A salute was fired by the battery. The troopscheered. The name of Santa Anna mingled loudly with the cheering, andthe general, sending his splendid horse forward, raised his hatgracefully in response. But then he turned to his attendant officersand remarked,--

  "It is well, gentlemen. The troops are in fine condition. We shallsweep the Gringos out of Texas. Now for the cock-fight, and then wewill have a quiet game of monte at the palace."

  He had pretty fairly condensed into his remarks one feature of thesituation. The sturdy r
iflemen of the American border were stronglyimpressed with the worthlessness of the Mexican military organization;with the dissipated, lazy character of its men and their commanders;and they confidently expected that a Mexican invasion of Texas would belittle more than a campaign of wasteful blunders.

  "If we can stand their first rush," had been said by General Houston,"they'll break all to pieces before they make another."

  If Travis and his friends were beginning to be anxious concerning thefate of Bowie, he was all the while growing more and more anxious aboutit himself. He would have been more so if the region of country he waspushing his way through had not been so very nearly unoccupied. Hereand there a fortified town or village needed to be given a wide berth.Strongly built haciendas were to be avoided, if they were not alreadydeserted. Most of them were so by reason of the recent civil wars, andyet more on account of the destructive raids of the red men. It was anearly ruined country, and it was not altogether impossible for even aconsiderable band of prudent men to travel across it without attractingtoo much attention.

  The men discussed the probabilities again and again, and their leaderwas studying them carefully, but from time to time he shook his head.

  "Boys," he remarked, as they sat around their camp-fire in the woodsthat evening, "you're only half right. We could march an expeditionalong by this route and not find a soul to hinder us, but there'd be awhole brigade of lancers riding this way before we could get thebullion and set out for home. I reckon they'd meet us somewhere abouthere. They could pen us in."

  "Colonel," replied Jim Cheyne, "I've thought of that. This is theshortest road to come or go on, isn't it?"

  "By all odds the shortest," said Bowie.

  "Then it's our road to come back, and we can choose a roundabout roadto go there by. They'll foller our trail, and we kin make one we'djest as lieve they would foller. We kin beat 'em."

  It was a kind of relief to their present anxiety to sit there and makeplans for the future. They were never tired, moreover, of hearingagain and again a description of the cavern, the idol, the sacrifices,the plunges into the chasm, and the heaps of gold and silver. Some daythey were to see it all for themselves, and they were to take thetreasure out of the cave and pack it upon their mules and ponies. Thenthey were to go home with it. They could buy plantations, buildhouses, "live like gentlemen," as Joe was fond of saying, and all thewhile they could strengthen Texas and help its riflemen to drive outSanta Anna.

  One of their number, however, did not care a button for anything thatthey were saying. Not any of it belonged to him. All that he knewabout was the present, and all that he could feel were his keeninstincts as a young Lipan warrior with a party of white men upon hishands. They were friends of his, and it was his duty to take care ofthem. He had gone to sleep at once that evening, after eating hissupper at sunset, but not long after the weary rangers spread theirblankets and lay down their very red associate was up again.

  Joe was acting as sentry at the foot of a tree, with his rifle acrosshis lap, but he paid no attention to Red Wolf when he saw him walkingtoward the nearest underbrush.

  "Indian!" he muttered. "Let him rip."

  "Red Wolf heap look," said he, a few minutes afterwards, as he came outinto a place where the trees were widely scattered.

  A white man might not have seen anything, for all around him was asdark as a pocket, but upon a cloudy gloom above the forest beyond himthere rested a faint, yellowish glow.

  "Ugh!" he exclaimed. "Fire burn."

  He had brought no weapons with him excepting the knife and pistols inhis belt, but he was now armed better than were most Indian boys, andBowie had promised him a rifle.

  From tree to tree, keeping among the shadows, on he went, and all thewhile the glow grew brighter, until at last he could see the flashingof fires and the forms of those around them.

  "Ugh!" said Red Wolf. "Mexican. No Comanche. Heap sleep."

  In every direction lay the prostrate forms of men. Standing erect orwalking hither and thither were a few who might be acting as a nightwatch. A group of these were gathered at the end of the camp nearestthe young scout or spy, and he crept toward them, for they werejabbering loudly in Spanish. They carried weapons, bows and arrows,_escopetas_, or short muskets, _machetes_ of all sorts and sizes,knives, lances, hatchets, clubs. They were not regular soldiers, buttheir numbers made them sufficiently dangerous.

  "Eat up Texan," thought Red Wolf. "No catch him. Go back."

  He went rapidly enough, until Joe, at the foot of his tree, wasstartled by a hand upon his shoulder. A few swift words told him whatwas the matter, and the other rangers were at once roughly stirred up.

  "Do you s'pose, colonel," asked Cheyne, "that we've been followed?"

  "Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Bowie. "These chaps got their cue fromTetzcatl somehow while we were on the way. He never meant we shouldfind out this thing and get home again. They don't know the secreteither. All they know is that we're a squad of Gringos, and that wemust be chopped up. Most likely they heard of us to-day, and mean tostrike us in the morning. We must git! That's all."

  "Bully for Red Wolf!" seemed to express the general opinion of therangers, but the half-rested, half-fed animals were untethered at once.

  "If it hadn't been for you they'd ha' corralled us," remarked Cheyne toRed Wolf, but all the response he obtained was "Ugh!"

  "We have everything in our favor," said the colonel, "now we've passed'em. Such a crowd as that won't stir out early. They'll all liearound and jabber and smoke cigarettes and drink pulque and gamble andboast, and then they'll swarm in to find that we've stolen a march on'em."

  For once he was mistaken in his estimate of his enemies. It was in thevery dawn of the day, when he and his comrades might have been supposedto be asleep, that the miscellaneous militia from the Mexican camp"swarmed in" to slaughter the too adventurous Gringos. It was a suddenrush, made at a signal, a musket-shot, and it was made with wild shoutsof anticipated triumph. It would have been entirely successful but forthe fact that Bowie and his men had been pushing northward during fourlong hours, at a rate which had compelled them to abandon one more oftheir over-driven horses.

  "We've learned one lesson," said the colonel, when at last they haltedon the northerly bank of a stream which had proved barely fordable."When we come again we can make sure that all the Greasers will gatherbehind us to cut off our retreat."

  "That's what I was saying," replied Cheyne. "We mustn't try to go andcome by the same road."

  "Ugh!" said Red Wolf. "Bring heap Texan. Mexican run."

  "There's a good deal in that," laughed Bowie, "but we don't want tohave to light at all. We must work it as sly as so many horse-thieves.We shall be carrying too much plunder to want a battle with Bravo'slancers."

  They were safe for the present, however, and after only a brief restthey went on again--for life.