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

CHAPTER XVI.
THE ARMY OF SANTA ANNA

"Houston? You here? I've something to show you. Hurrah for Texas!"

The commander-in-chief had been sent for days earlier, and he had come in haste, for a fast-riding courier had brought him word that Santa Anna and his army were already across the Rio Grande.

"Bowie! Thank God!" almost roared the old hero, springing forward. "Oh, Bowie! I'd begun to believe you were dead."

"Not a bit of it!" shouted back Bowie. "I've won a pot of money for our side. Here it comes."

A train of horses was filing through the gate-way of the Alamo. They were not the worn-out animals which had travelled so fast and so far, for Crockett had made the rangers give up as many quadrupeds as were necessary for the wounded men and the money-packs. Three horses, indeed, bore sadder burdens, for the dead also had been brought in. These had halted outside the walls and a burial party was at work.

"It costs us something to win freedom," was the sombre comment of General Houston. "Many another brave fellow must go down before we clean out the Greasers and the redskins. Now, Bowie, come in and tell me what this means."

They walked on into an inner room of the fort, but not even to Houston did Bowie as yet unfold the secret of the cavern.

"Too many know it already, or half know it," was the thought he did not put into words. He told all about the Spanish dollars and doubloons, however. In turning them over to the state, less the small sums agreed upon as the allowance of his men, he stipulated that the first use made of any money should be for provisions, powder and ball, for the defence of the Alamo.

"Houston," he said, with emphasis, "my notion is that it can't get here any too quick. Travis is wrong. Santa Anna will march straight for the Alamo."

"He may. He may," replied the general. "At all events, I must set out with the cash. I must send you all the help I can right away. Then I must raise troops and march to meet the Mexicans. It's a blue time for Texas, but this is a ray of light."

It was only one ray, for in all other directions the prospect seemed dark. His own preparations for departure were made at once, and in the gloom of that very evening he rode away.

"We must go all night," he said, "and not a soul outside the fort must know what we're taking with us."

About an hour later, eleven men sat together in the upper corner room of the convent building, and every man of them bound by an oath and by his word of honor to keep secret all he might hear.

"Boys," said Bowie to his own men, "if Travis and Crockett are let in and no more, the secret is just as safe. I don't feel as if they were outsiders."

"Just the same as ourselves," replied Jim Cheyne. "They're to help us git up the expedition. But what about the gold bars we fetched this time? They'd tell it all if we showed 'em now."

"Keep 'em for expenses when we are ready for business," said Bowie. "I didn't say a word of them to Houston. We can hole them right here in the corner of this room. Safe as a bank."

"And if Santa Anna captures the fort, what then?" asked Joe.

"Nobody 'll ever hear of any gold he got here," replied Bowie, grimly. "If one of his men found it, he'd take it away from him and have him shot for desertion."

The bars belonging to the men were brought, and they made only a small pile, after all, when packed in a corner, under the couch, with old saddles stuffed in front of them. Red Wolf's prizes, of course, were not included.

"Ugh!" said Castro, after watching the operation. "Big Knife kill Travis. Kill Crockett. No kill all Texan. Heap shut mouth. Montezuma talk, all bad medicine."

"All right, Castro," said Bowie. "When my time comes I shall die."

"What does he mean?" asked Travis.

"You couldn't root it out of him," said Bowie. "He believes that every white man who meddles with this stuff is bound to go under. It's poison."

"Out with your yarn, then," said Crockett. "I'll take my chances. You kin name the day for my funeral."

Steadily, from step to step, the colonel told the story of his raid into Mexico. Not a word was uttered by anybody else until he came to the description of the cavern.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Castro. "Heap bad medicine. Now Travis go under. Crockett lose hair."

He evidently did not wish to hear any more himself, but curiosity is a strong tether, and, after all, he was an Indian, and upon him the mysterious peril might not have so much power. Red Wolf knew the secret already, and nothing evil had as yet happened to him. The chief remained, therefore, in silence, while Bowie told of the human sacrifices, the fate of Tetzcatl, and the heaps of ingots, tons and tons of them.

"Go for it?" shouted Travis. "Of course we will. As soon as we've beaten the Greasers I'll raise the men that can ride across Mexico to get the stuff out of that cave. It's a wonderful thing to know, but when you come to think of it, it's the most natural thing in the world. Montezuma and Guatamoczin did exactly what you and I would have done, both before Cortez came and afterwards. We wouldn't have given it up neither, and they didn't."

"Thar's heaps of human natur' in this world," remarked Crockett. "I'd ha' bet they'd ha' done just exactly what they did do. There's nothing curious about it."

"No more there is about their idols," added Travis. "They kept them just as all the other heathen do in Asia and Africa. Hundreds of millions of idol-worshippers go it right along, with the missionaries among 'em. They kill the missionaries, too, now and then. Some eat 'em, and these fellows cut their throats and pitch 'em into a hole."

It seemed as if every trace of anything mysterious or improbable departed from the old legend of the Aztec gold and silver the moment the truth concerning it came out to be studied by such matter-of-fact men as these. Their hard common sense took it like any other business affair, and they were almost ready to name beforehand the men they meant to take with them on the expedition they planned to secure the treasure.

After telling the story, however, Bowie grew silent and moody. He looked around him upon the bare walls of the room. He passed a hand over the low couch upon which he was sitting. He hardly seemed to listen to what the others were saying. When at last there was a pause and a silence, he arose to his feet, and a shadow, darker than usual, was on his face.

"Travis," he said, "I want to get out of this room. It's close and hot. I somehow don't like it. It keeps me thinking of Tetzcatl, too, and of all he said when we talked with him here. He was a kind of devil, he was. I'm glad he went down into that chasm. If it's good and deep he 'll stay there."

He strode rapidly out of the room, and they heard Castro mutter, —

"Big Knife too much talk. Montezuma talk bad medicine. All lose hair. Ugh!"

Red Wolf had listened but he had said nothing, for nothing was left him to tell. He was a proud young brave, however, for the Big Knife, the great white chief, had praised him tremendously, and his own father had more than once said, "Heap young brave."

"Ugh!" said Castro, laying a hand upon the arm of his son; and they arose and followed Bowie until they stood with him in the plaza.

"Well, Castro?" asked Bowie. "What is it?"

"Want horse," said the Lipan chief. "Good pony. Ride heap. See Mexican. Come tell Bowie. Sleep now. Go before sun."

"Bully!" exclaimed Bowie. "I'll give you the best critters in the fort. I want to know just where Santa Anna is. What you two want first, though, is to sleep about ten hours and eat all you can hold."

Castro meant just that, for even the tough sinews of a Lipan warrior could feel the strain they had borne. Away he went with Red Wolf, and now the colonel's face grew brighter, for half the garrison was gathering around him.

"I can't talk much now, boys," he said. "You know about all there is to tell, but I'll add one thing."

He pointed westward in silence for a moment, and his eyes wore almost a dreamy look as he went on:

"All that land, clean through to the Pacific, must belong to Texas. Somewhere in yonder among the mountains, in the rocks and in the gullies, there is more gold and more silver than the world has ever yet heard of. The new Gulf republic must take in New Mexico, and Arizona, and California, and it will become the treasure-house of all the time to come. We are poor now, but we shall be the richest people on earth. Only we must understand one thing at the outset. Gold is like freedom. Every pound of it that was ever won was somehow paid for in blood. I'm ready to give mine, right here, if I'm called for. Now I'm going in for a hammock. I'm clean used up."

It was past the middle of February, in the year 1836. The weather had been stormy, but was now better, bearing few traces of winter as it is in more northerly latitudes. It was a season of the year that could be expected to favor military movements, but the Mexican commander had been disappointed and seriously delayed during all the earlier part of his invasion. The rains and mud had been in the way of heavy provision-trains and artillery.

A little after sunrise on the morning after the arrival of the returning raiders, the sentry relieved at the Alamo gate-way reported the departure, an hour earlier, of Castro and his son.

"Gone on a scout," said Travis. "Hope they'll have good luck. We don't know half enough just now."

All that day was spent by the small garrison of the fort in what they called getting ready for a better state of things. They expected reinforcements and supplies, but Crockett and Bowie, rather than even Travis, insisted upon putting all they had in the best possible order. A strict account of rations was taken. Cannon were carefully cleaned, and most of them needed it. Every weapon, large or small, was brought out for inspection or repairs. Every ounce of powder was measured as if it were gold. At least a dozen men were kept at work moulding bullets, and for this purpose a number of leaden filigree ornaments were taken from the window casings of the old church.

"Best that can be did with 'em," remarked Crockett. "Church lead is as good as any other to kill Greasers with."

The supply of water was sure, for the Spanish builders had constructed aqueducts which brought an abundance, like springs within the walls.

The men were in high spirits over their work, and even Colonel Bowie lost some of the gloom which had been upon his face.

"Crockett," he remarked, however, "I hope Houston 'll make good time. We shan't be ready for Santa Anna an hour too soon."

"Travis hardly believes he's comin'," replied Crockett. "He reckons the old monte-player will strike for the middle of the State and the coast towns."

"Not and leave the Alamo behind him," said Bowie. "We'll have the first fight right here, and it 'll be a hard one."

So they talked and worked, and the day passed and another night came and went. It was a little after the middle of the next day that a brace of mustangs were reined in upon the brow of a low hill looking southward.

"Ugh!" exclaimed one of them. "Red Wolf heap look. Santa Anna come!"

The younger rider was silent, but he was looking. For the first time in their lives they had seen an army. The southerly prairie was nearly level, traversed along its farther border by a winding stream of water. On this side of the stream, in long lines, in columns and in detachments, marched several regiments of infantry attended by batteries of light artillery. On their flanks and in the advance rode strong bodies of lancers. There were flags and pennons, and the serried bayonets wore a warlike look. There were even bands of music.

"Heap Mexican!" exclaimed Red Wolf. "Tell Big Knife."

"Alamo men all die," replied Castro.

He did not move, however, during several minutes, for the bugles of the lancers and the shouted orders of the infantry commanders had called a halt. Very shortly there were sufficient indications that the invading force had marched far enough for that day and that it was now going into camp.

It was by no means a perfectly organized army, and there was a sad lack of precision in its movements, but its dispositions for camping were tolerably well made. Tents were put up for officers, but the rank and file were expected, evidently, to bivouac. There would be little hardship in that, but if the Lipan scouts had been able to make a closer inspection, they might have noted that the entire array of over five thousand men wore a hard-travelled, worn-out appearance, as if they had been pushed and as if it were really about time that they should have a rest.

There were clumps of trees on the prairie. Wood could be cut and fires could be made, but before the first smoke began to rise Castro wheeled his horse.

"Ugh!" he said. "Ride now. Kill pony. Comanche no come."

He had been staring at point after point to discover if any of his old enemies were acting with the Mexicans. If they were, none of them could as yet be seen among the troops of Santa Anna.

He and his son disappeared over the rolls of the prairie, and, unless they should be intercepted, there would be news for the garrison of the Alamo.

Not in the centre of the Mexican camp, but on the bank of the river, a large and nearly new marquee tent had been put up as the first order for a halt was given. At a little distance a fire had been quickly kindled and cooking was already going on. In front of the tent stood a group of officers and they were chatting merrily.

"We will crush the Alamo like an eggshell," asserted one of them.

"It will surrender at discretion on our arrival," added another!

"Travis will never be so foolhardy as to resist an overwhelming force," remarked a third; but he added to the dark-faced man in the middle of the group, "General, what are we to do after dinner? I'm tired of inspecting."

"So are the men," responded the general. "I think we shall have something better. We can empty a coop."

He pointed as he spoke at a spot of ground fifty yards from the tent, at the right, where several ragged peons were at work with stakes and cord. They were already constructing a cockpit, for the Mexican commander did not propose to let so small a matter as the conquest of Texas deprive him of his favorite amusement. Moreover, on the bank of the river, beyond the cockpit, were drawn up two large wagons, and each of these was almost over-piled with wicker coops, the occupants of which were from time to time crowing defiantly at each other. If the army was to rest there while the Texans were getting ready to receive it, more than one of the coops might possibly be emptied by the proposed combats of the gallant poultry.

Meantime, the disposition of battalions, regiments, and batteries was left haphazard to subordinates who had no fowls to think of, and the general and his brilliant staff went in to dinner.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE FIRST SHOT

Four days went by. All the space inside the walls of the fort had a clean and tidy look. The soldiers of the garrison went hither and thither with an air of being under more than usual drill, but their varied uniforms were about the same as ever. A light rain was falling and the skies overhead were heavy with clouds, as if a storm were coming.

A shout was heard outside the gate, and then its massive oaken portal swung wide open, while Colonel Travis stood by the six-pounder, his handsome face bright with expectation.

"Boys!" he shouted, "the supplies have come!"

Nearing the gate-way was a train of large wagons, and on either side and in the rear of them rode mounted riflemen.

"Reinforcements, too!" exclaimed Crockett, as he strode forward to the side of Travis.

Colonel Bowie was already out beyond the wall, scrutinizing the approaching train and its guard.

"Not a quarter as many men as we needed," he remarked, in a low, foreboding tone. "I hope there are more coming."

On rolled the wagons, while cheer after cheer went up from the garrison, to be answered as heartily by the new arrivals.

"Keep right on," shouted Travis to the drivers. "Halt in front of the church."

The last pair of wheels was in the gate-way when galloping past them came a half-naked rider.

"Whoop!" he yelled. "Red Wolf want Big Knife. Castro horse dead. Santa Anna come!"

"All right!" called out Travis. "Come this way. Bowie, bring him in. Men, go on unloading. Tally all there is."

Down from his panting pony dropped the young Lipan, and his eager report required few questions to make it clear. Either his father had not been so well mounted or else he had been too heavy a weight for a long race. His horse had given out entirely a few miles from the fort, and Red Wolf had ridden on alone. All the officers of the rangers had gathered to hear, and when the report was completed they looked at each other with serious faces.

"It's just about as we expected, after all," said Travis. "I'm glad there are no Comanches with them. If Castro is right, there are over five thousand of them. A thousand more or less won't make much difference. They're about four days' march from us, I should say, but the lancers could get here sooner. Most likely they will."

A rugged-looking ranger stood before him, touching a ragged hat-brim.

"Well, Sergeant Daly," said Travis, "how do you find the cargo?"

"Bully, far as it goes!" responded the sergeant. "I reckon it gives us rations for about two weeks. Pretty good lot of rifle powder. Not so much cannon powder and grape-shot as we'd ought to have. No solid shot to speak of, but there's some. Forty spare rifles, and I wish we had men for 'em. But these yer new men are all prime fellers, and we can foot up one hundred and forty good shots, all told."

"We ought to have at least three times as many," said Travis. "Every man is worth his weight in gold just now."

"The trouble is," remarked Bowie, "Houston hasn't had time yet to use those Spanish dollars. He will, though. What we must do is to try and hold the fort till Austin's riflemen get here. Every day 'll count. Santa Anna is a slow marcher."

"You're mistaken thar," exclaimed Crockett. "If his Greasers could fight as well as they kin walk, we'd be gone up sure!"

The next duties related to the unloading of the wagons and to all the information that could be obtained from the new men. Even while Travis was talking with them, however, an hour or so later, a hand touched his arm, and he turned to look into the face of Castro.

"What is it, chief?" he asked.

"Close gate," said Castro. "Load big gun. Lancer! Bring pony in."

"They mean to make a dash for our corral, do they?" replied Travis, and orders for the care of the horses of the garrison went out at once.

It would not do to lose them all just now, and they, at least, would have abundant rations within the enclosure. One of the best of them was turned over to Castro in place of his used-up pony, and another as good was given to Red Wolf.

While this was going on, Bowie had been busy with the spare rifles that had just arrived, and now he made his appearance, carrying two weapons that were more ornamental than the rest, for both were silver mounted.

"Travis," he said, "this is for the chief, and this is the one I promised Red Wolf."

"They've earned 'em," exclaimed Crockett. "Give 'em a first-rate outfit. Hope they'll kill a grist of Greasers."

Colonel Travis himself presented the rifles, but his words were few. Castro took his own and examined it all over.

"Ugh!" he said. "Heap shoot. Travis kill Mexican with big gun. Red Wolf take rifle. Come!"

Red Wolf's eyes had been glittering with delight. Never before had he heard of an Indian boy of his age owning a really first-class rifle with all its accoutrements of wiping-stick, ramrod, powder-horn, and bullet-pouch. Those were the days of flintlocks, and the long-barrelled shooting-irons did not need any "cap-box" to go with them.

He was hardly expected to say much, but he made out to tell the colonel, —

"Red Wolf shoot a heap. Mexican lose hair. Wipe out Comanche."

As he finished speaking, however, Bowie himself laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Red Wolf go with his father now," he said. "Come back to Big Knife. Chief, let him come as soon as you can."

He had understood a sentence that Castro had uttered in his own tongue with its accompanying "sign."

"Chief send boy," replied Castro. "Go now. Travis fight a heap."

The two Lipans were upon the backs of their fresh mustangs the next minute, and they rode out of the gate as if some errand of importance hurried them.

"Reckon they think we've got our work cut out for us," said Crockett.

"They've seen the Mexican army," replied Bowie, "and they know just what's coming. So do we, but we mustn't say anything to discourage the men."

A watcher at a loop-hole saw Castro and Red Wolf wheel around the corner of the wall and gallop westward, but before he could report the direction they had taken the garrison was startled by the roar of a cannon from one of the southern embrasures. There had been a reason for the course taken by the Lipans.

"Who fired that gun?" shouted Travis, angrily. "Who fired without orders?"

"I did," came promptly back from Sergeant Daly. "I had the best kind of a bead on that crowd of lancers. It was only a four-pound shot, but it ploughed right into 'em."

"Not another charge is to be wasted," replied Travis. "We need every kernel. We were none too quick about the corral, though."

"Travis," said Bowie, quietly, "our time's about come. Houston must send us more men or we can't so much as man the walls."

It was a matter of course that a strong body of cavalry had been sent on in advance of the invading army. No doubt there had been an idea of striking the rebellious Texans at every possible point. The lancers, however, had not met with anything to strike at, and all they now could do, apparently, was to reconnoitre the fort. It was in a spirit of entirely empty bravado that they had approached so near or else they had forgotten that the Alamo had any artillery. They had at last halted, while their commander deliberately scanned the post and its surroundings through his field-glass.

Bang! went the four-pounder, and Daley's aim had been first-rate.

"Caramba!" roared the colonel. "My baggage mule! My equipments! Santa Maria! My cigarettes!"

Over went a fine mule, certainly, as the four pounds of iron arrived, but not because of anything that prevented him from getting up at once and braying. Upon his patient back, rising above the panniers that adorned his flanks, had been a load more large than heavy. It was this hump of varied luxury and usefulness into which the sergeant's wasteful shot had ploughed.

Mexico had not lost even so much as a mule, but the ground was strewn with cigarettes and other merchandise, and the lancer force had been warned that they were in front of a battery.

"Fellow-citizens!" shouted the angry officer. "Heroes of Mexico! Yonder is the Alamo! In a few days we will ride into it and teach the Gringo rebels a lesson they will remember. Forward, right wheel! Gallop!"

Gallop they did, but Travis's order to save ammunition had already put them entirely out of danger.

Miles away to the westward rode Castro and his son, but the chief had now gone far enough for the purpose which had taken him away from the fort. He drew his rein and Red Wolf imitated him.

"Ugh!" said Castro, holding out a hand. "Rifle!"

The splendid present was handed over, but other commands followed, and the young warrior was stripped of his bow and arrows, his lance and his pistols. His only remaining weapon was the knife in his belt. There was not a shadow of disobedience, not even of dissatisfaction, upon his face, but he was evidently waiting for an explanation.

"Red Wolf no lose rifle," said Castro, at last. "Great chief take it to lodge. Hide it with tribe."

"Ugh?" said Red Wolf, but he knew there was something more to come.

"No bad medicine," said Castro, holding out his hand again.

The three gold bars allotted to Red Wolf were tightly secured to his saddle. They were now untied and handed over. The chief dropped from his pony and walked to the nearest oak, one of three by which they had halted. He took out his knife, dug a pretty deep hole, and dropped the precious but dangerous prizes into it.

Red Wolf had followed him in silence, and now, when the earth and sods were replaced, Castro stood erect and pointed at the spot under which lay the gold.

"All Texan lose hair," he said. "Red Wolf hide bad medicine. Find some day! Die then. Montezuma wicked manitou."

"Ugh!" exclaimed Red Wolf.

Nevertheless, a deep "sign" was cut upon the oak-tree before they remounted. Then the chief went on to explain to his son the further duties required of him.

It did not take a great many words, but the meaning of it all was simple.

The Mexicans and the Lipans were now nominally at peace. Any Lipan was fairly safe among them, unless he should seem to be on a war-path against them. At the same time, Mexican cavalry would surely disarm a mere boy, – that is, they would steal his rifle, even if they then should let him go unharmed.

So far, so good, but Castro raised his arm and pointed eastward.

"Boy hear!" he said. "Travis send Texan to friend? Mexican catch ranger. Shoot him. No catch Red Wolf. Go! Ride hard! Tell great Texan chief Santa Anna here! Say he camp around Alamo. Say Travis want more Texan. Ugh! Go!"

It was an errand of importance, therefore. It was worthy of a warrior. It was a message of life and death, but it called for cunning, caution, hard riding, rather than for sharpshooting. A few further instructions as to where to go and whom to find were all that was needed, and away went the ready messenger.

Castro himself rode away, laden with the precious shooting-irons. He too had need for caution and for cunning if he was ever to rejoin his tribe, but Red Wolf, riding northward now, was saying to himself, —

"Ugh! Heap young brave. Bring Texan to Big Knife. Heap fight Mexican."

He may have been perfectly aware that Colonel Travis was the white chief who was in actual command of the rangers and the fort. To his mind, however, the Texan armies, if not the republic itself, were best represented by the stalwart hand-to-hand fighter who had given him the knife which he now so carefully concealed under his buckskins. Having done so, he transferred his old, half-despised butcher-knife from his leggings to his belt, and remarked concerning it, "Mexican take? Ugh! No lose heap knife. Take Mexican hair."

There was a menacing look in his face, and he rode on with the air of an adventurer who was quite ready for mischief, if a chance for any should be given him.

The region of country he was to go through was supposed to be peaceable, as yet. It contained only scattered ranches and small settlements, but it might speedily contain almost anything else, for perils of all sorts were pouring in upon the Texas border.

Matters at the fort were quiet, but the rangers in their quarters, even while running bullets, and the officers in their hammocks, not one of them asleep, seemed to have constituted themselves a kind of general council of war. At least they were discussing every feature of the situation, and were talking themselves more and more into a state of mind that bordered closely upon contempt for Santa Anna and his five thousand men.

The most undemonstrative man among them all was Colonel Bowie. He had slung his hammock near one of the embrasures, with a cannon at his side, and, like the cannon, he was continually peering out. Even after it grew darker and only moonlight remained to show him anything, he every now and then seemed to take an inquiring look at the surrounding country.

"I can see that cave," he muttered to himself, "as clear as if I were in it. What if the fate of a young nation should depend upon our getting into that hole again? If those old rascals knew we were coming, they'd pitch it all down the chasm. I'd like to know, just for curiosity, what fellows and how many of them have been butchered before that altar. In the old times they used up whole tribes and regiments of captives that way. Then I'd like to know where all that bullion came from. I don't believe they mined for it. They didn't know how. They got it out of river-beds, I reckon, just as they do in Asia and Africa."

He had hit the mark, for there was no other way imaginable. But where were the riverbeds, and how much more gold-dust and nuggets might there be remaining in them?

He could dream and speculate there in his hammock, but that was all he could do. His young republic was indeed to come and go. Mexico was to lose Texas and her other northern provinces. The pioneers among whom he was so daring a leader were to accomplish even more than they were planning. Beyond all his dreams, however, would be the solution of his gold problem. Only a few years later the slopes and gulches of the California mountains were to swarm with hardy miners, and the treasures of the Montezumas were to sink into insignificance in comparison with the wealth to be taken out, not by the Aztecs or the Spaniards, but by the "Gringos."

Would anybody then be found to take note of the fact that Bowie and his comrades were the advance-guard, the skirmish-line, almost the "forlorn hope" of the armies of Taylor and Scott? The United States, the world at large, and even Mexico, owe their memories something of recognition, and they were not even much "ahead of their time."

"Crockett," said Travis, just before they went to sleep, "Bowie can't get that cave out of his head."

"It's t'other way," replied Crockett. "He can't get his head out of the cave, and I'll be glad, you bet, when we all get our heads out of the cave this push of Santa Anna is putting us into."