Stoddard William Osborn
The Lost Gold of the Montezumas: A Story of the Alamo

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

"That's what I was saying," replied Cheyne. "We mustn't try to go and come 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 to have 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's lancers."

They were safe for the present, however, and after only a brief rest they went on again – for life.

CHAPTER XV.
THE RETURN OF THE GOLD HUNTERS

"Well, boys, we got in like woodchucks by the same hole we came out of," said Colonel Bowie to his men.

"Reckon the lancers are scouting the south prairie after us yet," replied Jim Cheyne.

"They didn't knew about the ravine, Jim," said another ranger. "But ain't I glad we're safe in among the bushes."

Here they were, at all events, plodding along one of the sandy avenues of the chaparral. Both the men and their horses had a worn and jaded look.

"Our tramp's nearly ended," continued the colonel. "The lancers made it a close shave from the Rio Grande to the Nueces, but we've beaten 'em. We know now that Santa Anna is in Texas, and we're back in time to take our part in the fight. We've had good weather to travel in, but so will he. It's getting on into the spring."

"Ugh!" exclaimed Red Wolf, pausing before a tree. "Heap Comanche in bushes. Great Bear sign."

There was a gash upon the tree, such as might be made with a knife. It was a curved line with a notch in the middle, for a bow with an arrow, it might be.

"Made to-day," said Bowie, as he studied the mark. "The sap is running. We'll have to keep a sharp lookout if we mean to get through, but they can't know we're here."

It was a warning of an unexpected danger, but it did not seem to depress them. On the contrary, their faces were bright and hopeful, in spite of the fact that they had left so many tired-out horses by the way that they now had only one mount left for each man.

"We haven't lost a man," remarked Jim, cheerfully, "and we've kept every pound of the rhino. We're going back after the rest of it, too."

"We are!" said Bowie, with almost an appearance of enthusiasm. "We'll set out as soon as Texas is clear of Santa Anna."

"That's it," said Joe; "but you see, as soon as he's well whipped the coast 'll be clearer than it ever was before."

On they pushed, and Red Wolf rode in the advance as a kind of guide. Part of the time he was hidden from his white friends by the crooks and turns of the path by which he was leading them, and now and then he had to ride back to indicate the right way.

"It takes a redskin," they said more than once, "and he's jest the reddest Indian there ever was."

That was so, for the sun had not appeared to have any power over the peculiar tint of his skin, but all the while he had seemed to be growing older. If he had been a boy when he joined them at the Alamo, Red Wolf was now a warrior, tested by the emergencies of a very uncommon "war-path."

The hours went swiftly by and there was no haste to be made.

"Go slow," had been the repeated injunction of Bowie. "The main thing is to get there."

It must have been about noon when Red Wolf came riding back with a hand lifted in warning.

"What is it?" asked Bowie.

"Ugh!" he said. "Great Bear in bushes. Heap Comanche. Big Knife heap snake."

He wheeled his mustang to the right and they followed him.

"It's awful!" exclaimed Cheyne. "Colonel, the Comanches have joined the Mexicans. What about the Lipans?"

"Fighting the Comanches," responded Bowie. "The trouble is that they seem to be expecting us. If we can ride around 'em, though, we'll get in."

"All right," said Jim, "but things are looking a little squally. I'd like to give 'em a shot or two."

"Not a shot if we can help it," said Bowie. "Wait till I show you something. It's only a short ride now."

It was much longer because of the detour, and Red Wolf was now once more out of sight.

"What's that?" exclaimed Bowie. "What on earth made him whoop? They've got him! Gallop, men! Save him if we can!"

They went forward at a swifter gait, but there was no saving to be done. They were already nearer than they had supposed to the pond and the ruins. The young Lipan had pressed on also, with a pretty clear idea in his head. He had even ridden to the border of the open, and had been looking out and around it searchingly.

"Ugh!" he said, "Great Bear no come!"

"Ugh!" exclaimed a deep voice from a thicket near him. "Castro!"

"Whoo-oo-oop!" burst from the lips of Red Wolf, and he wheeled his pony right into the thicket. "Castro!"

He could not have held in that burst of surprise and joy, nor could the chief himself have done otherwise than to come out from his hiding-place with a great bound. Swift, indeed, were the explanations which were exchanged. Only a brief outline could be given by Red Wolf of his wonderful campaign in Mexico. The particulars would have to wait. Castro himself could do but little better at that moment.

"Tetzcatl heap liar!" contained the root of the matter.

He had said very little more than that when they heard hushed voices in the pathway near them.

"Jest about yer it was," said one.

"Look out sharp now!" said another.

"I'll find his carkiss if I can," came from Joe. "He was a buster. But what did he whoop for?"

"He ort not to," remarked Jim, "but I s'pose he couldn't help it. Now they'll all know we've come. But I just liked that young feller."

"Ugh!" said Castro. "Heap friend of Red Wolf. Boy talk."

Out darted Red Wolf, and in a moment more there were hearty hand-shakings all around.

Castro had ghastly tokens to show of the blows he had stricken upon his Comanche enemies, but now he gave also a better account of the manner of his separation from his friends on the night after they went over the Rio Grande.

There had been, as Tetzcatl had reported, a sharp brush between the Lipans and a party of Comanches. The old Tlascalan had only overstated the affair in order that he might carry off the Texans with him.

"All gone" had been partly true, nevertheless, for the Lipans, losing a few braves, had been forced to retreat toward the north. They had thereby been compelled to give up any idea of trying to join Bowie's party.

Ever since then, believing that his son and his friends had been "wiped out," the revengeful chief had been hanging upon the movements of Great Bear's band wherever they went or came. He was now informed somewhat more fully of what the adventurers had been doing, but it was no time for too much talk.

"Forward now," exclaimed Bowie, at last. "Our next business is to get the cash and push on to the Alamo. We're pretty nigh out of powder ourselves. We couldn't stand a long fight."

On they went, therefore, cautiously enough, but when they reached the open it seemed entirely deserted. They halted in the bushes while Castro and Red Wolf made circuits to the right and left.

"Men," said Bowie, with emphasis, while they waited, "we'll go in and get it. We must take almost any risk to carry it off. But don't you forget, if I go down, that this cash belongs to Texas. 'Tisn't yours nor mine, except each man's fair allowance for taking it in. None of you fellows found it, in the first place."

"All right, colonel," responded Joe. "Hurrah for Texas. I don't want any dollar that isn't mine."

"Don't hurrah quite yet," said Bowie. "We don't know how near we may be to a hundred scalping-knives. Hullo! Here they come."

It was the two Lipans and not the Comanches that he referred to.

"Big Knife walk along," said Castro, as he came nearer. "No Comanche."

"I'd like to give 'em a hit," growled Bowie, "but this isn't the time for it. Come on, boys. We mustn't waste a minute."

Even now he seemed perfectly cool, but none of the other Texans failed to show how strongly the "hidden treasure" fever had taken hold of them. It grew manifestly hotter after they had ridden to the ruined adobe house, dismounted, and followed their leader in. It was almost impossible to believe that he was about to show them anything like actual gold and silver.

"You don't mean to say," said Joe, "that such a feller as old Tetzcatl left anything behind him up here?"

"No, he didn't," replied Bowie. "This isn't any Montezuma money. My notion is that it's old Spanish funds. If so, all the more does it of right belong now to the State of Texas."

"Of course it does!" said Cheyne, and the others heartily echoed him.

"Out it comes, then!" shouted the colonel, with the first external flash of the excitement which had all the while been smouldering within him. "You'll see what it is now. You didn't more'n half believe me, did you? Look at that!"

Over rolled the adobe fragments which concealed the cash, and out came bag after bag, cast down with a chink to be at once caught up by eager hands and opened. It was a breathless kind of work to make those bags tell what was in them.

"It's a pity so much of it's only silver," remarked Jim, regretfully; "but silver's better'n nothin'."

"Every feller wants more than he's got," said Joe, "but you'd kinder ought to be satisfied this time."

Red Wolf and his father had looked on in silence, but now the chief beckoned to his son and walked out.

"Ugh!" he said. "Red Wolf tell story. Talk Mexico. Long trail? Heap fight?"

All that remained to be told of the trip with Tetzcatl came out rapidly, until the mountain pass was reached and the doings in the cavern.

"Ugh!" sharply exclaimed Castro. "Shut mouth! Montezuma bad medicine! Texan all die. Big Knife go under. Red Wolf? No! Red Wolf Indian. No hurt him. Lose hair if he talk."

He said more, but his entire meaning seemed to be that it was a well-understood doctrine that any white adventurer learning the secrets of the Aztec gods was a doomed man. They would surely follow him up and kill him. It was not so bad for a full-blooded Indian, but even a Lipan would do well to forget anything he had heard or seen that belonged to the bloody mysteries of the evil "manitous" of the old race. It was evidently a deeply rooted superstition, and Red Wolf was quite ready to accept it fully. They returned to the ruin in time to hear Bowie remark, —

"Two hundred thousand, pretty nigh, dollars and doubloons. Now, boys, a thousand apiece for taking it in. All the rest goes to fight Santa Anna."

"That's the talk!" said the rangers, and the horses were led up to receive their loads.

It was not very easy to pack the ponderous stuff, even at the sacrifice of all the blankets on hand. After it was done, moreover, another fact was evident.

"Boys," said Joe, "it's a walk for us all the way to the Alamo."

"That 'll just suit the critters," replied the colonel. "It's all the're fit for. But we mustn't fail to get there. I kind o' feel as if Texas was getting safer."

They were themselves by no means safe and it was time to go forward. The horses had picked a little grass. They had been watered, and so had the feverish, anxious rangers, but rest for either was not to be thought of.

Slowly, cautiously, the devious avenues of the seemingly endless thickets were traversed, and at last the little cavalcade, with its precious freight, emerged among the scattered trees on the border of the prairie.

"'Tisn't time for us to whistle yet," said Bowie, "even if we're out o' the woods. Hullo! Men! There they come! Forward! Double lines. Horses outside."

"Whoop! Whoop!" came fiercely from Castro and his son.

"I reckon we've been watched for somehow," growled Jim. "We'll show 'em a good fight for the pewter, but don't I wish thar was more of us!"

It seemed as if the loads of dollars added to the desperate courage of the men, and they made ready for the coming fight as if more than their own lives were depending upon it.

The horses were ranged in parallel lines, and the riflemen walked on in the space between. It was a kind of travelling breastwork, and it must have had a dangerous look to an outsider. A number of wild horsemen, therefore, contented themselves, for the present, with whooping loudly and riding around at safe distances. There were a great many of them, but Castro declared that the entire force under Great Bear had not made its appearance.

"It looks bad for our side," said Bowie. "It's a long time since any Comanche war-parties have ventured in as far as they have this season. Santa Anna was quite enough for us to handle without the redskins."

He hardly knew, at that moment, how dark a cloud seemed to be hanging over Texas in those closing days of the winter of 1835-1836. All things had been going wrong. There were quarrels among leaders, and even Houston had lost, apparently, a great deal of his popularity. As Crockett expressed it, —

"The cusses expect the old man to do some things that can't be did."

There were a great many things that he could not do. Nevertheless, he worked unceasingly. He made visits of inspection here and there. He made speeches, printed patriotic appeals in the newspapers, and argued with timid or disaffected settlers.

It all seemed to be of little use. The Indians were busy on the borders. Reports of the feeling in the Congress of the United States were discouraging. All the while, moreover, every arrival from south of the Rio Grande told of the extensive preparations which the Mexican president was making for an invasion. He was said to have gathered a force that would prove overwhelming, and he had declared death to all rebels.

"If we don't look out," said Crockett to Travis that afternoon, as they stood together in the open gate-way of the Alamo, "the Greasers 'll catch us all in bed. But don't I wish I knew what had become of Bowie and his men?"

"They won't fetch back any gold," replied Travis; "but I'd like to see them if they rode in as bare as redskins."

"Colonel," exclaimed Crockett, "give me a dozen men and let me take a scout over the south prairie. I might have some kind o' luck. Might knock over a Comanche."

"Let you have 'em?" said Travis, with sudden energy. "Take 'em! I'll come right along with you. I'm dog tired of loafing in this coop. Get your men."

The rangers of the garrison were as weary of inaction as was their commander, and double the number called for almost insisted upon mounting for the proposed scout.

"The fort 'll keep till we git back," remarked Crockett; "but if I don't git out of it and shoot something I shall spile."

There were very good military reasons for precisely such an errand of inquiry. The vicinity of prowling savages was pretty well known, and it was desirable to learn as much more as possible.

The party from the fort rode out, therefore, and they were well upon their way, but they were not near enough to hear the whoops of Great Bear's warriors nor the cracking of the first rifles which replied.

There had been a steady onward march of Bowie's men, without any other change in the situation than an increase in the number of their enemies.

"Boys," the colonel said, "we've gained about a mile and a half, but they're closing in on us a little. Let 'em have a pill first chance you get. Halt!"

There they stood, their rifles levelled across the saddles. It was hardly worth while to waste their small stock of powder upon swiftly careering horsemen, although now these were frequently within range.

"I'll take that drove," exclaimed Jim, as several of the whoopers wheeled into a closely gathered group.

"Got him!" he shouted, as his rifle cracked.

"One more," added Bowie. "Hold your fire, men. It won't do to have too many guns empty at one time."

The backs of two mustangs were empty, however, and the yells which followed were those of angry braves who had been stung to rashness rather than intimidated. Of course, they all wheeled away at first, taking their dead comrades with them.

The Texans again moved steadily forward, but hardly more than a quarter of a mile had been gained before Bowie shouted, —

"Here they are, men! The whole band has got in on us this time. They're gathering for a rush. Ready! Die game!"

A swarm, – a cloud, – an overwhelming torrent of the fierce cavalry of the plains, was forming in loose but effective array to sweep in upon their victims. What could six rifles and two bows do against such a storm as was now about to burst?

"Die like men!" shouted Bowie. "Kill every redskin you can draw a bead on!"

Crack, crack, went rifle after rifle, and not a shot was thrown away; but the Comanches were whooping forward upon their charge and all would soon be over.

"Hullo! What's that?" shouted the colonel.

"Whoop!" yelled Castro. "Rifle!"

"Ugh!" said Red Wolf. "Heap Texan! Comanche lose hair!"

Sharp, rapid, utterly unexpected, was the rattle of rifle-shots from away beyond the cloud of pony riders. Down went horse and man in quick succession.

"Travis and the rangers!" yelled Jim Cheyne.

"The boys have come! Thank God!" gasped Bowie. "Five minutes more and Houston wouldn't have had a dollar of this stuff."

Not even then was he wasting a thought upon his own life or upon the lives of those who were with him.

It was a terrific surprise to the red riders. They were smitten as by lightning. They could have no idea of the numbers of their new assailants, and they were in wholesome dread of the marksmanship of the Texans. Well they might be!

Wheeling into a line at the order of their commander, the rangers were deliberately picking off warrior after warrior until their rifles were empty.

"Forward! Charge!" shouted Travis.

"Come on, fellers!" yelled Crockett. "It's Bowie and the boys! Don't you miss a shot."

They were not missing so long as any human target was within pistol range, but the targets were getting away. This was not at all what they had counted on. They fought for a moment, of course, for they were warriors, and their flights of arrows were not sent in vain.

Right through them rode the rangers, leaving three of their number on the grass, while several more carried with them well-aimed arrows.

"Hot work," laughed Travis, "but here we are! Bowie, old fellow! Hurrah!"

Away wheeled the stricken Comanches, for the rangers were reloading. The savage rush was over and the next business was to get out of rifle range.

It was a curious spectacle. There stood Crockett, the rough old bear hunter, the sarcastic humorist, the lank, lantern-jawed frontiersman, hugging Colonel Bowie. It almost seemed as if he were crying.

"Hurrah!" he shouted. "I kind o' knowed they hadn't wiped him out."

"Crockett, old boy!" said Travis. "Give him a chance to speak. You are choking him."

"Jest what I want to do," said Davy. "Now, Bowie, whar have you been?"

"Let go, Crockett," said Bowie, "and I'll tell you. But some of the men are hurt – "

"The boys are 'tending to 'em," replied Travis. "How about Tetzcatl?"

"Not a word of him now!" burst from Bowie, vehemently. "Travis! I've found cash enough to pay for all the ammunition we need to whip Mexico. I'll tell you as we go along. Where's Sam Houston?"

"He's to be at the fort to-day," said Crockett. "But whar on earth did you pick up any dollars?"

The first answer was Bowie's finger on his lips. Then they three mounted and rode on together.

As for the rest of the rangers, they were indeed caring for the wounded, and even for the dead, but the story of the cash found in the ruined adobe house was travelling fast from man to man.

That was followed, of course, by an account of the raid into Mexico with Tetzcatl, but that part of the story was defective. As it was related it did not contain any intimation of the mountain pass, the cavern, or the treasure of the Montezumas. It did not, and yet one ranger after another said to the man next him, in varied forms of speech, —

"Tell you what, those fellows that went with Bowie are keeping back something. They've learned more than they're willin' to tell. We must get it out of 'em."

As for Red Wolf, he and his father had been lost sight of for a few minutes, but in the last part of that close, terrible fight they had been plying their bows incessantly, and now they were out on the prairie. They were Indians, Lipans, an old warrior and a young brave, and they were following the custom of their race, for they were taking trophies.