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

Loud yells of rage and astonishment were uttered by the three remaining braves, but they did not wait for a second shot. They wheeled their mustangs and galloped wildly away through the nearest opening in the shrubbery.

"Heap dead," said Red Wolf. "Ugh! Texan!"

He lay as still as before, however, during several minutes, and no white rifleman made his appearance. The slain Comanche lay on the grass where he had fallen, and his riderless pony fed quietly near him. It was only one, after all, of the numberless, unexplained tragedies of the border, and Red Wolf was too wise a young Indian to go out and hunt around for its meaning. He untethered his pony, however, and made ready for a run, if that should prove to be the next demand made upon him.

"Ugh!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Tetzcatl. No Comanche."

Out from the chaparral beyond the pond walked the somewhat mysterious Tlascalan, but Red Wolf sent toward him a kind of warning cry, as like the croak of a crow as if a very skilful crow had made it.

Tetzcatl himself might be such another crow from the response that came back. In a few minutes more he and Red Wolf were behind the same thicket, exchanging reports of their situation.

The old man seemed to care very little about the hidden rifleman or the dead warrior. Red Wolf told all other things, but he did not mention the dollars. He did, however, take note of every square inch of the white-haired tiger he was talking to, and he came very near uttering an exclamation when his keen eyes detected a stain of powder in the middle of Tetzcatl's left hand. The thought which at once arose in his mind was, "Load rifle. Powder stick on hand. Hide in the bushes. Shoot Comanche. Leave gun there. Ride around pond. Heap fool, Red Wolf. Boy! Ugh!"

It was what lawyers call circumstantial evidence, but there was no direct proof that the Comanche had not fallen by the hand of a Texan ranger.

"Follow Tetzcatl," said the old man. "See Big Knife."

Not another word did he utter, but he and Red Wolf rode on together during about twenty minutes side by side.

If the young Lipan expected to meet any of the rangers or their leader at the place named the previous day, he was mistaken. Bowie had indeed kept his appointment, much earlier than he had suggested, and there had been important consequences.

Part of what had happened began to be understood by Red Wolf when he and Tetzcatl came to so sharp a halt as they did.

Only a few yards ahead of them six riflemen sat motionlessly in their saddles with their rifles raised as if about to fire. The foremost of them was apparently taking aim.

The fire flashed from pan and muzzle, and the report was followed by a shrill screech from behind some bushes not sixty yards away. A horse dashed out and off, followed by another, whose rider also fell to the ground as a second and third rifle cracked together.

"Load, boys! Quick!" shouted Bowie. "They haven't surrounded us, but that's what they're up to. There's another!"

The third Comanche was galloping too fast to be made a good mark of, but three bullets followed him and his pony dropped. Then it was not one of the Texans but Tetzcatl on his mule who now spurred forward. He had not gone to help anybody, for his machete was in his hand.

"Red Wolf, halt!" commanded Bowie. "Tell! Talk fast!"

It was not easy to obey an order that kept him from striking an enemy, but Bowie was his chief just then, and the story of the pond, the adobe, the four Comanches, and all other points worth telling, were rapidly told.

"Good!" said Bowie. "Tetzcatl's coming. That fellow can't give Great Bear any information. Now for the pond. What we want next is water."

The entire party wheeled away behind Tetzcatl as guide, and Red Wolf fell back among the men. He did not yet feel free to question so great a man as Big Knife, but he learned from the rangers as they rode on that their whole party had narrowly escaped a collision with "too many Comanches" at the spot where they had met the Tlascalan. "We'd ha' been wiped out sure," they said.

After that they had dodged and lurked in the chaparral, while he went for a scouting trip to the pond. It now seemed fairly safe to go there, but there was no certainty as to what had become of the main body of the Comanches. Of course, after having broken his agreement to go home, Great Bear felt it to be his military duty to destroy a squad of Texans who might otherwise report him and bring a stronger force to punish his misdoings.

If the pond had hitherto been one of the secrets of the chaparral, it was one no longer now. Loud, however, were the exclamations of surprise uttered by the Texans when they rode out into the open.

"There's no telling what 'll be found if ever the chaparral is cleared," said Bowie. "We don't know much anyhow. Texas must be free first, and settlers must come in."

"Colonel," said a ranger, "jest so; but no settler's goin' to clar chaparral as long as thar's loads o' clean prairie to feed stock on. This 'ere brush 'll stay whar it is."

"Never mind now," replied Bowie. "Water the critters and picket them where they can bite grass, beyond the walls, or as near as you can. We could hold that middle adobe for a while, but we're in a pretty tight kind of box."

CHAPTER VII.

THE ESCAPE OF THE RANGERS

"It won't do for us to hang around this place," was the substance of a number of remarks that were made by the riflemen as they cared for their horses and then followed their leader into the central building.

"Now, men," said Bowie, as they gathered around him, "the critters must have a good rest and a feed. We've run them hard. We'll get our rations right off."

All that was left of the deer began to go out of sight rapidly. Hunters like these were not apt to carry any considerable amount of provisions with them. It was not necessary in a region abounding with game. They were as independent as so many Indians, and every day's ride was expected to provide for its own evening camp-fire, with variations.

The fire blazed up; Tetzcatl and one of the men volunteered as cooks; the others were stationed here and there as outlooks, with a tendency to keep well under cover of the old walls. It may have been a willingness to be out of sight from the bushes that led the old Tlascalan to his duties at the fireside.

Red Wolf had all the while kept in the background, so to speak, but now, at last, he found an opportunity he had been waiting for.

"Big Knife great chief," he said to the colonel. "Red Wolf heap boy. Want talk."

"Come right along," replied Bowie, leading him a little aside. "Speak out. What is it? Have you found sign?"

"Heap sign," said Red Wolf. "Heap good medicine. Big Knife come, see."

"I'll do that!" exclaimed Bowie, with a sudden increase of interest. "No Indian boy was ever waked up like that without a reason for it."

Red Wolf's face was indeed "waked up," but it contained also an easily read warning when he added, —

"Tetzcatl. No good. No want him."

"I don't want him," said Bowie. "Walk slow now. Go right along."

It looked as if they were only strolling from one heap of rubbish to another. Red Wolf's leading was very direct nevertheless, and they were entirely hidden from observation when they stood in front of the covered crypt in the broken wall.

Even then not a word was uttered by either of them while the Indian boy removed some of his fragments of adobe. When, however, he put in his hand and drew it out full of silver coins, the sombre face of the Texan blazed fiery red.

"Heap dollar," remarked Red Wolf. "Big Knife find dollar. No Tetzcatl."

"All right, my boy,", said Bowie, but he vigorously aided in the further work of uncovering the bags.

"Ugh!" said Red Wolf. "Heap lift."

So it was, for some of the bags were quite heavy. All were taken out, and one after another they were opened and their contents were inspected.

"Twenty of them are gold doubloons," exclaimed Bowie. "The rest are silver. Now Houston can buy his rifles! There may be enough for cannon. What he needs is the hard cash. Why, there isn't powder enough in all Texas for one sharp campaign. But there will be. This is glorious!"

He was not thinking of himself, therefore, but of the young republic which he and his brave comrades had created and were defending. This money, lying here, so strangely found, so entirely at his disposal, was not to be regarded as his own. Its only value to him was the service it could render in gaining the independence of Texas.

Rough, indeed, were the border men, but there are no better examples of unselfish devotion to a common cause than they were at that hour giving. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, the most unflinching band of self-enlisted volunteers that is recorded.

"There must be a good deal more than a hundred thousand dollars," said Bowie, beginning to put back the bags into the hole. "There may be twice as much, but if there is, it won't go far enough. My mind's made up. I'll go with Tetzcatl. If there's anything in that story of his, we may find the cash to fit out batteries of artillery and buy five thousand rifles."

"Ugh!" said Red Wolf. "Heap dollars buy heap guns."