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

by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE REINFORCEMENT.

  Away outside of the fort wall at sunrise stood Davy Crockett, allalone. He had been noting with evident interest the marks made uponthe masonry by the cannon-balls fired the day before.

  "All right," he said. "It amuses them and it doesn't hurt us. I'monly fifty, and my ha'r will be turnin' gray before they git in thisway."

  It was a satisfactory conclusion, and he turned to scan the Mexicanlines.

  "Jim Carson got away from them," he said. "Of course he did, but wecan't wait for Sam Houston. We've got to depend on ourselves. Well,now! If this isn't curious! Whoever heard of Greasers gittin' upearly? I didn't, but they're a-movin'. Reckon we're goin' to havesome fun right away."

  That was the opinion of Travis and two ranger officers up in the churchtower.

  The camps of the Mexican infantry were pouring forth their bayonets,and everywhere the cavalrymen stood beside their horses, ready to mountat the word of command. What was to be done with horsemen in an attackupon stone walls did not appear, but the telescope revealed much moreominous preparations. Already out in front of the southerly camps wereparties of men who were provided with ladders. If the artillery as yethad made no breaches, the walls could be climbed over. The cannon wereto have their share in the day's work nevertheless, and at a givensignal every battery began to speak. A storm of iron pellets hurtledagainst the defences or flew over them.

  That part of the fortress which was mainly composed of the church andof the convent did not promise well for a climbing adventure. Theassaulting force was therefore massed for a rush against the lowerwalls around the plaza. These were pierced for musketry as well as forcannon. Every shot-hole had now its marksman, with two more standingbehind him ready, each to take his place in turn while the othersreloaded.

  "Let 'em come close up," was the order of Colonel Travis. "Hit everyman just below his belt."

  "And ef you do," added Crockett, "that thar Greaser 'll sit right down."

  Low voices passed from man to man, and the substance of the utteranceswas,--

  "Hit, boys! Every shot is for life."

  An iron calmness grew harder in all their faces as the fire of thebatteries ceased and the Mexican masses began to move steadily forwardto the sound of their drums. They came on as confidently as if thefort were already their own, for their officers were freely declaringthe expectation that at the last moment the Gringos would give up sohopeless a defence and surrender.

  That is, the nerves of the rangers or of their commander, proof againstthe thunders of the artillery, were to fail at the prospect of beingcrushed by overwhelming numbers. Perhaps the very silence that reignedaround the fort did something to increase the delusion, and theforemost ranks advanced to within short rifle range.

  "Ain't I glad the grape-shot and canister got here in time!" growledSergeant Daly, squinting along his gun.

  "Ready!" shouted Travis at that moment from the middle of the plaza."All ready! Let 'em have it! Fire!"

  Every cannon of the fort which bore upon the enemy went off as if onehand had fired them all. A storm of lead and iron swept through theadvancing columns. Then as the smoke-clouds cleared away a little thecracking of the rifles began, and the astonished Mexicans droppedrapidly, only too many of them smitten "just below the belt" or a fewinches above it.

  The attempt to overawe the garrison by a sudden attack in force hadsignally failed. It had become little better than a disastrousreconnoitring party. Nothing had been really ready for so serious anundertaking as the storming of the Alamo. The Mexican troops weremarched back to their camps, while their officers made up verydisagreeable lists of killed and wounded.

  The cannon of the fort had been very well handled and the accuracy ofthe rifle practice had been remarkable. At the same time, not a man ofthe garrison had received so much as a scratch. They could hardlybelieve that the battle was over.

  "Jim Bowie," shouted Crockett, as he saw his friend coolly at work witha rifle-wiper, "none o' that jest now. Don't stop to clean your gun.Blaze away with it dirty and wipe it out by and by, after this butcherbusiness is over. It hasn't been exactly a fight, not yit, but it'sp'isonous fun for Santy Anny."

  The Mexican general indeed was wild with rage and disappointment overthe failure of his first ill-advised demonstration. For the first timein his varied military experience he had witnessed the effects ofsharp-shooting.

  He was not singular by any means. At that date the best infantry ofEurope were still armed with smooth-bore muskets and depended mainlyupon volley-firing when in action. The crack regiments of England,truly, had received a terrible lesson at New Orleans from the Americanriflemen under General Jackson, but neither the British nor any othermilitary power had seemed willing to profit largely by it.

  All military operations were over for the day. The batteries rested,and the commander-in-chief of the beaten army had not even the heartfor his evening game of monte.

  "Men!" said Colonel Travis to his gallant garrison, drawn up for a kindof triumphant review in the plaza, "I don't mean to say much, but thisis the kind of work that is going to save Texas."

  "You bet it is, and thar's got to be heaps of it done," came in alow-voiced snarl from Crockett. "What they need is killing."

  "The enemy have received a sharp lesson," continued Travis, "but theywon't give it up right away. They can't afford to retreat after onlyone battle. Santa Anna would be kicked out of power if he should failto take the Alamo. So if we can beat him completely we shall besetting both Texas and Mexico free from the old gambler's tyranny."

  A loud cheer responded, and on the heels of the last "hurrah" Crockettremarked,--

  "And we'll save our own throats, too, if that's any object. Mine wasfeelin' a little kind o' sore this mornin', but it's all right jestnow."

  The men went to their quarters and stations in very full accord withthe feelings of the old bear hunter.

  "Bowie," said Travis, as soon as they were alone together, "it's almostbetter than I hoped for. What do you think?"

  "There will be two or three days of cannonading," said Bowie. "Thenthere will be another attack. I reckon we can beat them off again. Wehaven't provisions for a long siege. They could starve us out."

  "If they give Houston time enough," replied Travis, "he'll be operatingon the outside of 'em somehow. They can't wait for too long a siege."

  "We are not to die of starvation," said Bowie. "If it comes to that,we can walk out and die killing Mexicans. I will for one."

  They were not at all deceived as to the desperate nature of theirposition. As for their patriotic commander-in-chief, he was strugglingwith a sea of troubles. Most of the money found in the old _adobe_ hadgone to New Orleans for arms and ammunition, but it might be weeksbefore there would be any important returns. He was using theremainder of the cash at home trying to get his hastily gatheredvolunteers into the shape of an army. He and Austin had several bodiesof men at points distant from each other, but not one of them could bemarched for the relief of the Alamo, nor would all of them togetherhave been a third in number of the force under Santa Anna. Some oftheir commanders, to make the matter worse, seemed hardly to considerthemselves under anybody's orders, so new and so unsettled was theauthority of the Texan government.

  It was toward the close of the day of that first attempt to storm thefort that a party of thirty-two mounted riflemen were somewhatleisurely pursuing their way along a road the western end of which wasknown to reach the town of San Antonio de Bexar. At their head rode ashort, squarely built man, whose hat was pulled forward over his eyes.He was leaning a little, as if he were bent down by some weight orother.

  "They are all there," he muttered. "The best men in Texas. They'llnever give up. They'll die right whar they stand. Ye-es, sir! I'mgoin'! I am! If it's only to go in and die alongside of Jim Bowie,and Travis, and old Davy!"

  A shout rang out behind him, and it was instantly answered
by an Indianwar-whoop in front.

  "Halt!" he promptly commanded as he raised his head, but he at onceadded, "Only one redskin. Who cares? What's up?"

  The one redskin was trying in vain to urge an exhausted pony to agallop.

  "I'll ride forward and meet him," exclaimed the officer. "He's gotsomething. I know Indians. Hold on, boys."

  In a moment more he was listening to an eager voice that told him greatnews.

  "Red Wolf," he said. "Heap Lipan. Son of Castro. Friend of BigKnife."

  "But what are you here for?" interrupted the white leader. "I'mColonel Smith."

  "Travis heap want more Texan!" said Red Wolf. "Santa Anna come! AllMexican at fort. Heap big gun. More Texan come or all ranger losehair. Castro great chief! Tell young brave ride heap! Bring manyrifle! Ugh!"

  "God bless you!" exclaimed Smith. "Bully for Castro! I know him."

  Then he turned to his men and shouted,--

  "Boys! It's all right! He's from the fort. Santa Anna's whole armyis marching upon the Alamo. It's thar now!"

  "We ought to ha' come quicker," was the first response that came fromany of the men. Smith could speak Spanish, however, and Red Wolf wasmore at home in that tongue than in English. He now gave the colonel afull account of the scout he and his father had made; of the arrival ofthe supply-train; of the condition of things at the fort; and of theestimated strength of the Mexican army. All that he said was at oncecommunicated to the men, but it did not seem to dismay them. On thecontrary, not one of them faltered when at last their commanderaddressed them with,--

  "Men! Now you know just how it is, how many of you are ready to pushright on with me to the Alamo?"

  "Git right along," came cheerily back from one of the riflemen. "Tharain't any white feathers a-flyin' in this crowd. We're all with ye.Hurrah for Texas!"

  "Forward, march!" shouted the colonel. "Every mile is worth blood.Boy, let 'em give you another mount. That thar mustang o' your'n isplayed out."

  There was no more travel in him, at all events, and he was quicklyturned loose to shift for himself, while all that had been on him wasgoing westward upon a comparatively fresh and lively pony.

  "It 'll be about two days' riding," remarked Smith, "at the rate we'llhave to go. When we get thar, we'll have to take our chances forfindin' our way into the fort."

  "We'll get in," they all agreed, but just how they expected to do itdid not appear. On they rode, and their camp that night had theappearance of a picnic rather than of the bivouac of a handful ofadventurers who were on their way to cut a path for themselves througha hostile army to almost certain death.

  The Mexican general held a council of war that evening, and its sessionlasted late into the night, for there were ample refreshments upon thetable in his marquee.

  It was not a cheerful council, for the reports of the army surgeonswere rendered, and they were unpleasant reading. So appeared to beseveral despatches which had but just arrived.

  "General," exclaimed General Cos, when his commander had announcedtheir contents, "the sinking of that barge in the Nueces is a greaterdisaster to us than is to-day's repulse. With those two heavy guns wecould have made a breach in the wall in an hour."

  "We must make one somehow," replied Santa Anna, "since you alldisapprove of a night assault. Castrillon, mass your batteriesto-morrow and play all your shot upon one point. Make every shot tell.It's only a matter of time."

  "So!" replied the artillery officer. "The breach can be made. And allthe while the garrison will be eating up its supplies."

  "So will we," laughed General Cos, "but we've a big drove of cattlecoming. We can live on beef and water till we have crushed this den ofGringo tigers."

  The tigers themselves in their fort-den were resting quietly, all butone, for the commander of the Alamo was pacing up and down slowly,thoughtfully, in the plaza. No doubt it behooved him to be wakeful,but once, when he paused in his promenade, he said, half aloud,--

  "I hope Jim Carson got through. Crockett feels pretty sure that hedid. Then my wife will get my last letter. I want her to know that Idid my duty and died like a man. I had hoped to live in Texas and seeit grow up to be something, but it's no use talking of that now. Ourtime has come. Not a man of us will ever get out of this place alive.And all because Sam Houston can't raise cash enough to feed his men ona march."

  He laughed satirically, and the sentry at the gate and the watchers atthe loop-holes heard him. It did them good to know that he was somerry.

  The night waned toward the dawn. Just in the gray mist of the darkhour the riflemen under Colonel Smith had risen and they were busyaround their camp-fires. They had no idea of any enemy being nearthem, but suddenly they were startled by a loud "whoop!"

  "That redskin!" shouted Smith, snatching his rifle and dashing out ofthe camp. "Come on, boys! Something's up!"

  They were following fast, but he was well ahead, and he came out intothe road in time to hear a shrill voice beyond him in the mistdemanding,--

  "Jim heap halt! Ugh! Red Wolf! Heap Texan!"

  "You young sarpent, are you here?" came back from a man on horseback."Do you mean to say that some of our men are nigh around?"

  "Who goes thar?" shouted Smith.

  "Carson, from the Alamo," responded the messenger. "Who are you?"

  "Friend of Big Knife," suggested Red Wolf to the colonel. "Ranger."

  "All right!" shouted back Smith. "Dismount and come in. We're on ourway to jine the garrison. How are things?"

  "Well," replied Carson, as he came to the ground, "when I came awaySanta Anna had just fairly got into position. I had to snake itthrough his lines to carry despatches to Houston. Jest you look here,though. Don't you believe I left without orders. Somebody had tocome. I'm coming right back to the fort soon as I've done my arr'nd."

  "Bully for you!" shouted a rifleman. "That's what we're here for.Come along now and git yer rations."

  "I might ha' gone by ye if it hadn't been for Red Wolf," said Carson,as they went along. "Bowie says he's the brightest chap of his agethat he ever knew. He can't say that he ever saw him asleep. He canguide ye into the fort when you git thar."

  "We'll git in," replied Smith. "I reckon Travis 'll be glad we metyou. Every rifle's going to count in such a fight as this promises tobe."

  "You bet!" said Jim. "I felt bad about coming away, but I gave up mychance there to please Travis. You'll see me inside the walls beforemany days. You will!"

  CHAPTER XX.

  NEARING THE END.

  The siege of the Alamo had lasted during eight long, terrible days.There had been a great deal of severe skirmishing, in which theMexicans had suffered losses every time they drew too near the walls.The blockade, however, had become so close and vigilant that it was nolonger possible for any bearer of despatches to get out or in. Out ofseveral that had been sent, it was understood that two only had escapedcapture and immediate execution. From those who had reached himGeneral Houston was informed as to the condition of affairs at thefort. The deepest sympathy was felt for the beleaguered patriots andpreparations for their relief were going on. Precious cargoes of armysupplies had arrived from New Orleans in spite of Mexican war-vesselscruising in the Gulf. Troops were getting ready. One train of wagonsaccompanied by a force of riflemen was already a number of miles uponits way, with a vague idea that it might somehow evade the army ofSanta Anna. Men assured one another that if the garrison could onlyhold out a few days longer all would be well.

  Colonel Travis and his men had held their own remarkably. They evenseemed but little fatigued by their long watching, their readiness tobe called to the shot-holes at any hour of day or night. They wereexceedingly tough and hardy men. They would have been in good spiritsif it had not been for two things. One of these sombre considerationswas the condition of about ten yards of the southerly wall of theplaza. This was crumbling under the continual pelting of Castrillon'sguns. Most of it was nearly leve
l with the ground, and the gap hadbeen feebly filled with such pieces of timber and other materials ascould be had. Loose earth had been heaped upon them, but the slightbarrier so constructed was at the mercy of cannon-balls. The otherpoint was even more important.

  "Colonel Travis," reported Sergeant Daly that morning, "thar's onlyhalf a dozen rounds for the cannon. The last ounce of power and thelast bullet have been sarved out to the men. Thar isn't enough for anhour's shootin' if the next fight turns out a hot one."

  "Oh, God! If Houston knew!" groaned the commander. "Why doesn't helpcome? Daly, don't say a word to the men. It's possible that theGreasers may not make another attack----"

  "We've killed a heap of 'em," replied the brave artilleryman. "Butwhat on 'arth are guns good for without ammunition?"

  "We won't surrender, if we've nothing left to fight with but ourknives!"

  "Colonel!" exclaimed Daly. "The men wanted me to ask you thatquestion. They know just the fix we're in. You won't surrender?"

  "I won't!" said Travis, firmly.

  "Thank God!" almost shouted Daly. "We want to die like men, with armsin our hands. We don't want to be led out and butchered."

  "The boys needn't be afraid that I'll go back on 'em," replied thecolonel. "I won't rob them of their last rights. If we've got to die,we'll go down fighting."

  "That's all I wanted to know," said Daly, and away he strode to tellhis comrades that they were in no danger of being betrayed unarmed intothe hands of Santa Anna.

  Hardly had he gone before there came a hail and a response at the greatgate, and two men stood before it. One of them wore the uniform of theMexican army and the other almost no uniform at all.

  "Jim Carson! Castro!" had been loudly announced by the sentry.

  "Let 'em in, quick!" shouted Travis. "You don't know who's behind 'em."

  "Ugh!" exclaimed the chief as he stepped inside. "Jim heap Mexican.Where Red Wolf? Chief want him."

  "Colonel Smith!" instantly called out his companion, "I played Greaserto git through their lines. How'd you do it?"

  "That young Lipan wolf did it," he said. "He led us 'round to thewest'ard, and we hadn't anything to do but to follow him. They thoughtour party was one of their own patrols. We didn't lose a man. ColonelBonham got in all alone."

  No more explanations could be given then and there, for Carson had madehis daring experiment that he might bring encouraging despatches fromthe President and that he might not break his word about returning.

  Travis opened the letter handed him and he read it where he stood.

  "It's all right, men," he said. "The whole state is rising. If we canhold the fort a little longer the boys 'll come!"

  Hearty cheers responded, and Carson was at once taken possession of byhis fellow-rangers that they might pump him of all the news he hadgathered while away.

  "Ugh! Heap boy!" said Castro.

  Before him stood Red Wolf, and during two or three minutes they talkedrapidly in their own tongue. As soon as the chief ceased speaking,Travis approached him and held out a hand.

  "Glad Travis no dead," said Castro, heartily. "Where Big Knife? WhereCrockett?"

  "Here we are!" responded the latter from a little behind him. "Butwhat on all the 'arth fetched you into the fort jest now? Did theGreasers say you might come a-visitin'?"

  The Lipan warrior turned on his heel and stalked away to the batteredpatch of the wall, followed by his white friends. He stepped up uponthe heap of ruins and studied it for a moment.

  "Castro see Mexican," he said. "See Bravo. Heap friend. Lipans nofight 'em. Tell 'em all Lipans lie down in lodge. Tell Bravo walkthrough wall. Come back. Tell Mexican. Bravo say, Castro go seefort. Now! Ugh! Tell Travis, tell Big Knife, one sleep. Mexicancome take Texan hair."

  "Jest so," replied Crockett. "They're goin' to try that hole to-morrowmorning? We'll pile it high with Greasers."

  "All right, chief," added Travis, "tell them all they want to know.It's a fair trade for letting us know they're coming. You can't tellanything to hurt us."

  "Ugh!" said Castro. "Chief take Red Wolf. Go hide in Santa Anna camp.See fight. Boy go tell Houston how Travis."

  "Good!" replied Travis. "Just the thing. Let him set out as soon asthe fight is over. I'd like to have old Sam know just how it turnsout. So far, we've beaten 'em every time."

  "Castro heap friend," said the chief, and took from under his blanket adeerskin-covered parcel closely tied. "Big Knife want powder. Takepresent. Shoot heap."

  About two pounds of the best rifle powder, therefore, was his lastcontribution to the defence of the fort.

  "Now if that isn't just what we wanted!" shouted Crockett. "I say,Bowie, divide fair. I've only five charges myself. Pistols empty."

  Some of the others were as badly off, and shortly afterwards it mighthave been noted that Bowie's belt fairly bristled with theshort-barrelled but deadly weapons known as "Derringers," from the nameof their manufacturer.

  "There is going to be a use for them," he quietly remarked to Travis."If I'm not mistaken, every bullet 'll find a mark to-morrow."

  "Look out," returned Travis. "Don't you go and get yourself onlywounded."

  "No!" almost shouted Bowie. "But what if I am? Could I quit if therewas a breath of life left in me? Travis, they don't intend to take anyprisoners."

  "There won't be any to take," he replied, but his friend drew himaside, farther out of any risk of being heard by others.

  "One thing more," said Bowie. "I want to get together all the men thatwent down into Mexico with me. Crockett, too. The chief and his sonare going. They don't count just now. They'll never tell anyhow, butsomebody ought to live and keep that treasure-secret. It must be foundfor Texas some day."

  "We might draw cuts for a man to get away with it," suggested Travis,"but he'd have no chance. I don't see what we can do. You and I aresure to go down."

  Castro and Red Wolf were standing by their ponies in the plaza. Theywere not members of the garrison. They were not white citizens ofTexas. There was no reason why they should remain to meet the lastonset of Santa Anna's army. Each of them had done all that he couldfor his personal friendships.

  "Ugh!" said Castro. "No want more shake hand. Come. Go talk Bravo.Tell Mexican heap. Great chief lose friend. Ugh!"

  The gate had been opened for them and they mounted at once, but as theywere passing through the portal Red Wolf turned and took a swift,earnest survey of the interior of the fort. It was all quiet, allpeaceful. The cannon watched silently at their embrasures. Therangers walked hither and thither unconcernedly. The church front worea calm and placid look. The sun was shining brightly. The one darkspot full of evil omen was the heap of rubbish in the breach of thewall.

  "Ugh!" said Red Wolf, mournfully. "Big Knife fight a heap. Greatchief!"

  More than one demand for surrender had been sent in and had beenrejected. During several days, however, any other communication withthe fort had been strictly forbidden. The Mexican general,nevertheless, had not been unwilling to permit the visit of Castro, andwhen the chief returned now, he speedily found himself in front ofSanta Anna's marquee.

  "Heap boy in fort," he replied to a question from General Sesma."Great chief go get him. Red Wolf no Texan. Good!"

  There was no apparent importance in the presence or absence of oneunarmed young Indian, and Santa Anna hardly looked at him while hequestioned his father closely concerning the aspect of affairs in thefort. There was no use to the garrison to be gained by Castro'sconcealment of anything that a telescope in the camp could discover,but the Mexican commander exhibited a deep interest in the exactcharacter and dimensions of the hole his artillery had made in the wall.

  "_Caramba!_" exclaimed Castrillon. "I'll pitch a few more shot into itin the morning. How many of the rebels have we killed?"

  "Texan feel good!" replied Castro. "Big gun no hurt him."

  Many and loud were the execrations utte
red when he explained himselffurther and positively affirmed that all their cannonading and musketryhad not disabled a solitary Texan.

  "We shall do better to-morrow," said Santa Anna, with a cynical grin."How are their provisions?"

  "Little eat," said Castro. "Texan lie in fort. No make fire. Nokettle."

  "Short of rations, eh?" said General Cos. "That's a point, general.We might starve 'em out. We have lost a great many men----"

  "We had better lose twice as many," sharply interrupted his commander,"than to waste any more time here. Houston is getting his volunteersin hand. We must have the Alamo to-morrow if it costs us a thousandmen!"

  "What Santa Anna say now to great chief?" asked Castro. "What tellLipan?"

  His inquiry was made somewhat haughtily, but the response came at oncewith extreme graciousness and courtesy. The Lipans were to considerthemselves the fast friends of the Mexican republic, their chief was tocall himself the brother of its President, and Castro and Red Wolf wereled away to a camp-fire where plentiful rations awaited them. It wasnot a time when the invaders of Texas were willing to make additionalenemies.

  It was not altogether a cheerful time for them. Really, the greatestelement of uncertainty of success in the proposed assault of the fortwas the dispirited, defeated feeling that prevailed among the Mexicantroops. It was to obviate that defect in their fighting qualities thatColonel Campos, of the infantry, received orders that night to issueliberal rations of _aguardiente_, or Mexican whiskey, as soon as theseveral battalions should march into their respective positions.

  "Colonel," said Santa Anna, "their feathers are down a little. Makethem so drunk they won't know whether they are killed or not. Whocares? We have plenty to take their places if we win a victory."

  More _peones_ and _rancheros_ could be expended to any extent providedhe could retain his autocratic grip upon the reins of power.

  There were one hundred and eighty-seven persons within the walls of thefort that night. Six of these were non-combatants, including twoAmerican women, a Mexican woman, a negro slave, and two young children.

  The keepers of the secret of the cavern of Huitzilopochtli held theirconference. After it was concluded they selected, with carefuldeliberation, a number of trustworthy men, to whom, under oath, theycommunicated the precious information. If any or all of them shouldsurvive, a full report was to be in like manner made to PresidentHouston and other Texan patriots who were named.

  "That's all we can do," remarked Bowie, after his precautions had beentaken. "I don't want that expedition to die with me. If any of thesefellows are killed early in the fight, we must put in others in theirplaces."

  "All right," replied Crockett. "The Montezumas have stuck to thatstuff long enough. But, 'cordin' to Castro, we've been and gone andput a death-warrant on every one of those men. I was thinking 'boutthat."

  "You'd think!" exclaimed Bowie, "if you'd seen what I did. Do youknow, there was the queerest kind of roar coming up out of that chasm.I don't wonder the blood-thirsty heathen were superstitious about it."

  "I'd like to hear it some day," said Crockett. "But thar's a kind ofringing in my ears, anyhow. Perhaps it's from hearing so much cannonmusic."

  In the cavern of Huitzilopochtli that night, the treasure-chamber ofthe Montezumas, the voice from the lower deep was calling more loudlythan usual.

  "The gods are disturbed," grumbled the old men before the altar. "Wehave nothing to give them. They grow angry. What shall we do for thehunger of the gods?"

  Louder, at intervals, then seeming to die away and begin again, arosethe mysterious reverberation, while the old devotees paused from theirchanting to turn and glare into each other's ferocious faces.

  It was only a mute inquiry. If no other supply should be provided, towhich of them would belong the next voluntary plunge into the gulf?

  They were fewer than they once had been. There might be none to taketheir places. It would not do for the altar of Huitzilopochtli to beleft without servitors and the treasure without guardians. Some ofthem must remain until the return of the gods, for these were surely tocome again to claim their own.

  Why, however, should they at this time feel so strong a hunger and sendup so vehement an outcry? Had they heard that sacrifices were about tocome? If so, where were the expected victims, and whose hand shouldbring them?

  It was a question to which no answer could be given, but thesacrificial fire was heaped with fuel until its radiance flickered likea smile of satisfaction upon the vast, dark face on the wall, and thepriests chanted on with a croaking sound like that of many ravens.

  No morning ever came into that cavern, but it dawned brightly upon theoutside world,--the morning of the 6th of March, 1836.

  The camp of the Mexican army was astir at an early hour and theartillery began its practice-work upon the shattered wall. Every gunwas aimed with care, for even Santa Anna was using up the last of hiscannon-shot.

  There was apparently nothing doing in the fort. It had a lazy look,and the rangers hardly spoke to one another as they went about theirroutine duties. They all cleaned their rifles carefully, counted theirbullets, measured their charges of powder, and now and then they wouldstroll to loop-holes for looks at the Mexican camp.

  "They are forming for the attack," was the word that passed from man toman, while the iron missiles, fairly well directed, fell fast upon thefrail barrier which had been made at the breach.

  "There 'll a good many men drap in that thar gap," remarked Crockett."But they won't all try to come in by that way."

  The Mexican commander had indeed learned something by experience. Hisstorming columns were four in number, and only one of them advancedtoward the broken wall. Another was evidently to approach by thefront, where the ruins of the gate had been strongly propped up duringthe night. The third and fourth formed in front of the convent yardwall and the church, and their ladders would be quite long enough tocarry them over the former.

  "We've got to divide," said Travis. "You hold the convent and churchside, Bowie. They could pick their way in, or blast a hole, if you'dlet 'em. We'll take care of the rest."

  Only a few men could be spared to any of the several posts of danger.

  The Mexican batteries ceased. The half-drunken infantry came on at arun. The last cartridges were rapidly and effectively fired from theTexan cannon. Down went their enemies by scores, and it looked as ifthe previous results were to be repeated, but Sergeant Daly now steppedback from the gun he had been working and held up a hand.

  "All gone!" exclaimed Travis. "Come on, men, this four-pounder isloaded yet. Let's bring it to bear upon the breach and give it to themas they come through."

  The guns on the church, three in number, had also been busy, but theynow ceased their thunder. Down went the gate before the blows of theMexican pioneers. Fast fell the foremost assailants in the fatalbreach, but just as Travis had swung around his cannon a musketeer fromthe gate was within twenty feet of him. He did not miss. The calm,courageous smile upon the face of the heroic commander died away, forthe flying lead passed through his brain.

  Numbers counted now, for the enemy were within the walls, and theremaining struggle was hand-to-hand.

  Brave enough were the Mexicans, but they were learning terrible lessonsof the superior personal prowess of their victims. Not a man asked forquarter. To be only wounded and to fall was to be bayoneted upon theground. Five who were disabled did indeed take refuge in thecook-room, barring its door and fighting still.

  Half-way between the convent and the church a thick group of swordsmenand lancers closed around the old bear hunter, but he did not diealone. Near him lay half a dozen of his foemen, and just beyond themfell his old friends Smith and Bonham, hastening to die at his side.

  The last squad of riflemen stood in front of the main inside entranceof the fort building, plying their rifles steadily, but the surge ofsteel points poured towards them.

  "Boys!" exclaimed Bowie at t
heir head, "I'm hurt in the leg. I can'tstand. I must do the rest of it lying down."

  His empty rifle fell from his hand as he climbed a stairway near him.Bleeding and faint, he staggered on to the end of a passage, and hethrew himself upon the couch in the end room, exclaiming,--

  "I saw them fall! Not a man is left to tell the secret of the cavern!"

  It was but a moment, and then the passageway swarmed with furiousMexicans. From room to room they went, plying their bayonets alikeupon the living and the dead. As they entered the corner room,however, a dark, stern, terrible shape half rose from a couch with aDerringer in its right hand. Swift reports followed each other asrapidly as the tickings of a clock till Bowie's belt was empty. Thefloor was strewn with corpses, and then, as yet more of his enemiespoured in, he gained his feet with a last effort, knife in hand. Itwas but for a moment. It was the fierce agony of a dying hero. Thebayonets did their work, and as the stalwart form of the dead borderersank heavily upon the floor, a low voice in the door-way exclaimed,--

  "Big Knife! Heap brave! Great chief! Red Wolf go."

  A DARK, STERN, TERRIBLE SHAPE HALF ROSE FROM A COUCH]

  The Alamo had fallen!

  The five men in the cook-room surrendered to Castrillon when their lastcartridge was gone on promise of protection, but they were sabred atonce on being taken before Santa Anna, who now stood among his staff inthe middle of the plaza.

  "_Caramba_! Kill them!" was all the reply he made to the protests ofCastrillon.

  The six non-combatants were spared to tell the story of the defence andthe massacre, but the victory had been a costly one. The army of SantaAnna had been so shattered that, when he met Sam Houston and hisvolunteers, not many days later, at San Jacinto, his eighteen hundredmen were utterly defeated by about a third of their number of Texans,and he lost not only his army of invasion but his control of Mexicanaffairs, and Texas itself.

  Dark indeed, that day, was the cavern of Huitzilopochtli, and allthrough the early hours the moaning sound came up from the chasm. Thenit grew louder, stronger, and the worshippers fled from its brink tothe altar. They had no victims to offer. Their chant was almostdrowned by the ominous roar, and the hungry anger of the gods seemed toincrease momentarily. Then it began to die away,--away,--until at lasta kind of shout came up, and there was a silence. Excepting Red Wolfand his father, there were now no living persons, outside of thevotaries of the old faith, who had any clue to the hidden treasure andthe underground temple of the lost gods of Mexico. The daring Texanwho had learned the secret had fallen fighting to the end, the last manof the garrison of the Alamo.

  THE END.

  TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH