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

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE SKIRMISH IN THE NIGHT.

  The great gate stockade at the southeastern corner of the Alamo, nearthe church, was closed. There seemed to be no patrol outside of thewall and all was quiet within, but a solitary sentry paced to and froat the gate, with his rifle over his shoulder. He was considering thesituation as he walked, for he remarked, as if to the shadows aroundhim,--

  "This yer fort is pretty much taking ker of itself, but the Greasersdon't know it. Thar ain't any of 'em nigh enough to come for it,anyhow. Ef they did, what thar is of us could give up this 'ereoutside cattle-pen and retreat into the fort. We'd hev to give up thechurch, but we could garrison the Convent till help got yer. That'sall we could do."

  At that moment his rifle came down, for he heard a sound of hoofs thatceased in front of the gate. Out went the muzzle of his piece at ashot-hole, and he looked along its barrel as he demanded of the rider,--

  "Who goes thar?"

  "Sam Houston!" came loudly back. "Open quick! I'm followed!"

  "Boys!" yelled the sentry. "It's old Sam himself! Come on! I'll gitthe gate open!"

  "I met Crockett!" shouted Houston. "He's all right. But I've aboutridden this horse to death. Down he goes! They're coming! Lancers!"

  Several pairs of hands were busy with the massive bars of the portal,and two of the men had stationed themselves by the six-pounder gun thatstood there, facing it, like an iron watchman.

  Outside, the general stood by his fallen horse, calm and steady as atree, with a heavy pistol in each hand.

  "I've barely distanced them," he said. "Ready, boys! Give 'emsomething!"

  Excepting for the sound of their horses' hoofs Houston's pursuers weremaking no noise, but they were now dangerously near him.

  Open swung the gate, and the men who opened it could see the glitter oflance-heads in the moonlight.

  "Step in, gineral!"

  "Jump now! Git out o' the way!"

  "Quick, Sam! I want to let 'em have it. Git inside!"

  Altogether unceremonious were the rough men of the border in theirhurried greetings to the man whom they really loved and trusted aboveother men. He did not seem to hurry, however. It was with a greatdeal of natural dignity that he strode through the gate-way. He waswilling to escape the thrusts of those lances, but he felt no throb offear.

  He was safely away from the range of the six-pounder, and that was all,when the report of the sentry's rifle at the shot-hole was followedinstantly by the roar of the cannon.

  "It was pretty much all the grape we had," said one of the cannoneers,"but I reckon we kin load her once ag'in. Hope we gethered some on'em."

  It had been short range, just the thing for grape-shot. The lancershad not dreamed of such a greeting as that in the night, at the verymoment of their supposed success. They had felt all but sure ofstriking a blow which would have been to Texas like the defeat of anarmy. They had followed their intended victim fast and far. Intracing his movements from place to place, and in this final dash forhis life, they had exhibited more than a little daring and enterprise.

  They were barely a minute too late at the end of their long race, butthey were just in time to be struck by that deadly storm of grape-shot.Down went horses and men. Down went flashing lance-points andfluttering pennons, while loud cries of pain, and execrations, andshouts of astonishment told how terrible had been the effect of "aboutthe last grist of it that we had in the fort."

  "Load up, boys!" said Houston. "Close the gate. That's all there isof that crowd."

  "Thar they go, what's left of 'em," replied the sentry.

  The fort had not been left without an officer, however, and anothervoice shouted,--

  "Steady! Men! Lanterns! A detail of six. I'll go out and see whatwe did with that grape."

  The lanterns were already coming, and Houston himself marched out withthe detail. He stooped to look into the face of a Mexican who hadfallen several paces in advance of the others.

  "Colonel Jose Canales!" he exclaimed. "Well, boys, Santa Anna has lostone of the bravest men in his whole army. I'm glad he hasn't many morelike him."

  "Eight killed and three wounded, counting him in," responded a ranger."It's the uniform of the Tampico regiment. Canales took his best menfor this hunt. Mr. Houston, you've had a narrow escape this time. Youmustn't ever do it ag'in. You ort to be locked up. You'd no businessto run such a risk!"

  "Why, boys," said the general, "I was uneasy about the fort. Crocketttold me more than I knew before, and I came right on to inspect."

  "Inspect thunder!" exclaimed the officer in command, a slight-lookingfellow in a buckskin shirt and tow trousers for uniform. "Thar isn'tmuch to inspect. What we want is more men and more rifles, and morepowder and lead."

  "Tell you what, Houston," added the gunner who had fired off the grape,"don't you know? If the Greasers came into Texas, this is the firstp'int they'd make for. They'll want it bad."

  "What's more just now, gineral," shouted a half-angry ranger, "'twasn'tyour place to lose yer skelp a-comin'. The rest o' the boys feel jestas I do. You mustn't try on sech a fool caper ag'in. Texas can'tafford to throw ye away 'bout now. Ef you was wiped out things 'ud goto pieces."

  The protests of the brave riflemen were exceedingly free, but they wereutterly sincere. They were freemen, talking to a man who perfectlyunderstood them. He therefore apologized, explained, promisedfaithfully to do better next time, and they let him up.

  Far away, beyond the belt of chaparral and the long ravine, anotherTexan patriot, as devoted as Houston, sat by his covered camp-fire inthe grove, and it seemed as if he were echoing the words of thegarrison of the Alamo.

  "Arms and ammunition," he said. "There won't be any lack of men if wecan feed 'em. But a Mexican with a _machete_ or a lance might putunder a rifleman out o' powder."

  He was silent for a moment, and then he added,--

  "I mustn't get myself killed on this trip. If I do, Houston 'll neverknow about that pile in the _adobe_ hole. I'll be more careful than Iever was before."

  He was not noted for special care concerning his personal safety, buthe now arose and went around the camp, from man to man and from horseto horse. He seemed to be all alert, watchful. There was to be nosurprise of that camp for any fault of his.

  It was now getting well on into the night. Only a little earlier therehad been a slight movement of the shadowy form that was crouching atthe side of the boulder at the sink-hole.

  "Ugh!" muttered Red Wolf, but he said no more, as he peered eagerlyover the rock.

  Only such ears as his could have caught a few low sounds that floatedtoward him on the night-wind. They were cautiously-spoken words in theComanche tongue, and the speakers were within a hundred feet of him.

  "Sink-hole," he heard them say. "No Texans there. Big Knife took themto the water. Go bring Great Bear. We find Big Knife."

  There he lost several words, but it was plain enough. These were onlyan advance party. They had sent a brave back to guide their main body,and were themselves to ride on to make sure of the Texans being at thecamp-ground so well known to Indian hunters. One of their number wasto remain at the sink-hole.

  "Trap Big Knife?" thought Red Wolf. "No. Heap eye. Texan sleep.Great chief wait for Comanches."

  He evidently had great confidence in his hero, and he hardly breathedwhile several horsemen went by, leaving a solitary brave to mount guardat the outer side of the boulder.

  He was very near. It was almost certain that before long he woulddiscover whatever might be living near him if it moved. It would beuseless, therefore, for Red Wolf to try to escape on foot that he mightwarn the camp. It would be even greater folly to go down into thesink-hole after his mustang. It was hardly safe, at first, to risk theslight motion required in fitting an arrow to the string. He mustwait, he thought. But if he did, what about the Texans if Big Knifeshould lie down and go to sleep? Even that small party of Comanchewarr
iors might dash in and take a scalp or stampede the horses. Theywere very dangerous fellows on a warpath or prowling around an enemy'scamp.

  "Ugh!" exclaimed the Comanche, wheeling his horse and lowering hislance.

  Red Wolf's mustang had not been at all comfortable down there in thedark. He had picked grass and he had stepped up and down at the end ofhis tether. He had heard hoofs go by. Now he was aware of thepresence of another horse near him, and he sent up short neighs ofinquiry. He uttered the mustang words for,--

  "Hullo, pony, who are you?"

  The Comanche at once responded,--

  "Where are you? Hey?"

  "Horse in hole!" exclaimed the warrior. "Where Texan? Where Lipan?"

  He listened a moment, and again the animals spoke to each other.

  "Ugh!" said the Comanche. "Texan go away and leave pony. Go take him.Heap brave!"

  It was a piece of reckless daring, indeed, to go down alone into thatblind hollow. There might be something much more dangerous than a ponylurking there. Again assuring himself, however, that he was a greatbrave and afraid of nothing, he sprang to the ground. He tethered hisown pony, laid aside his bow and lance and club and drew his knife. Headjusted his shield upon his left arm, and then he was ready.

  His worst peril was not in the hole. While he was making his rapidpreparations Red Wolf made his own. His arrow was in its place now,and he was almost lying flat at the corner of the boulder.

  There was not light enough for long-range archery, but now the Comanchebrave stepped stealthily forward, knife in hand, his shield up, and hisshort, hard breathing testifying his intense excitement. He slippedalong past the rock.

  "Twang" went the Lipan boy's bowstring, and he sprang to his feet,drawing his own knife as he did so,--the splendid present of Bowie, thewhite hero.

  Loud, fierce, agonized, was the yell of the stricken warrior, but evenin his agony he whirled around to face his unexpected assailant. Hehad strength yet, for he sprang at Red Wolf like a wounded wildcat.

  Away darted the son of Castro, but his enemy, a man of size and muscle,was close behind him. But that he was already mortally hurt he wouldhave made short work of the young bowman.

  Back and forth among the shadows bounded and dodged the ill-matchedcombatants. Red Wolf had no shield, and his knife glanced more thanonce from the smooth, hard bison-hide of his opponent's round buckler.

  "Ugh!" screeched the Comanche at the end of a terrific minute, and hesank into the grass.

  "UGH!" SCREECHED THE COMANCHE ... AND HE SANK INTO THEGRASS]

  He had done his best, all the while failing, but now the end had come,and Red Wolf shortly walked back after the horses. His own mustang wasled out of the hollow, the Comanche pony, a fine one, was takenpossession of, with his late owner's weapons and ornaments and themuch-prized trophy of victory.

  "More Comanche come pretty soon," he exclaimed. "Red Wolf take hair.Tell Big Knife. Tell Castro. Who-op!"

  Never before had he sounded so loudly, so triumphantly, the war-cry ofhis tribe, but the whoops which answered him did not come from thedirection of the camp. They arose from the northward and told of manywhoopers.

  As for the scouting-party, if any of them had turned back to assisttheir comrade at the sink-hole, they as yet were silent. So was RedWolf now, as he galloped away into the darkness.

  The camp was too far away for even a death-whoop to reach it, butColonel Bowie's tour of guard duty had led him out at last to a tuft ofsumach-bushes, beyond the easterly border of the grove.

  Here he stood, looking out somewhat listlessly, but before long heuttered a low, sharp exclamation, and brought his rifle to his shoulder.

  "They've come!" he said. "I must rouse the boys. It's life or deaththis time. How they tracked us here I don't know."

  As he glanced along the rifle-barrel he could see dim forms onhorseback glide between him and the starlit horizon. They were at nogreat distance, and he turned to send into the camp a piercing whistle.It reached the ear of every ranger, asleep or awake. Even the horsesseemed to understand that it was a note of alarm, and they began tostep around as if they were in a hurry to get their saddles on. Theyneed not have been in any anxiety, for when the men sprang to theirfeet, rifles in hand, their first care was for their four-footedcomrades.

  An immediate reply to Bowie's whistle came also from away out on theprairie.

  "That's the warning whoop of the Lipans," he said to his men. "RedWolf is out there somewhere. Hope they won't get him. He shouldn'tha' whooped."

  But Red Wolf had not been unwise, after all. The Comanche scouts werefew in number and they had no desire to be caught between two fires,Lipans, if there were any, on one side, and the riflemen on the other.They therefore dashed ahead, and then nearer, louder than before, theLipan yell sounded again.

  "That's a startler!" exclaimed Bowie. "It isn't the boy! It's agrown-up screech."

  Another of the full-sized startlers came, and a third, a fourth.

  In, however, without any more whooping, galloped Red Wolf himself, withhis prizes and his pride and his exceedingly important news.

  Closely behind him followed yet another horseman, coming at speed, and,in a moment more, Bowie stood face to face with Castro, as the Lipanchief, springing to the ground, strode forward and held out a hand.

  "Big Knife here?" he said. "Good. Lipans at Hacienda Dolores prettysoon. Castro ride back on trail. Find friend. Heap talk by and by."

  "All right, chief," said Bowie. "But the Comanches are here. Let RedWolf tell what he found. Quick!"

  Very rapid indeed was the young warrior's account of his performances,and Castro seemed to be growing taller in his glorification over such afeat done by his younger self.

  All who heard could fully appreciate, and Red Wolf had quite as muchpraise as was good for him.

  "Chief!" said Bowie. "Men! It's mount and ride now. Heap the fire.Pack the bufler meat. Fill the canteens. Get a good ready."

  He and Castro had more questions to ask and answer while the swiftpreparations went on, and Red Wolf was thoroughly cross-examined.There were no additional tokens of enemies near the camp, but if thescouting-party had discovered that the Texans were on guard, anotherparty of Comanches, halted at the sinkhole, knew that they had lost acomrade and that he had fallen by the hand of an Indian. The Texansdid not use arrows nor take scalps. It was a matter for thoughtfulconsideration, to be reported to Great Bear.

  "Ready now," came at last in a low voice from Bowie. "Mount! Leadahead, chief. We can get a good start of 'em before daylight."

  It was well to have Castro for a guide, but it was mainly due to RedWolf that they dared to stir out of camp and cover at all. But for theinformation he brought of the exact situation, prudence might havebidden them to remain and fight behind the trees, in the belief thatoverwhelming numbers were around them.

  As it was, no Comanche knew of the departure from the camp. Even whenthe first reinforcements arrived, all that the red cavalry deemed itwell to do, without the personal presence and orders of Great Bear, wasto ride slowly around the grove and make sure that nobody in it shouldhave a chance to get away. The fire was blazing high, and they thoughtof what marksmen among the trees and bushes were ready to shoot by thelight of it. There was nothing to gain by over-haste, and they waited.

  All the while, across the southward prairie, Bowie and his men rode on,and now they knew, from Castro, that General Bravo and his lancers hadbeen seen along the line of the Rio Grande.

  "We can keep out of his way," said the colonel, "but, next thing tooutracing Great Bear, I want to get a sight of Tetzcatl. I reckonhe'll kind o' come up out o' the ground just when we don't expect him."

  "Ugh!" said Castro. "Heap snake. Heap lie. No want him."