The Lost Gold of the Montezumas Part 17

They had not gone together. A very little later the chief was wading into the river at a place somewhat below where Tetzcatl had led them across, and he was alone.

His son was at the same time slipping along among the bushes and trees toward the Hacienda Dolores. He was making rapid headway, and his bright, black eyes were dancing with excitement. Fatigue was a thing he seemed to know little about. Probably it had rested him to sit down long enough to eat his supper.

The old hacienda had a number of lights burning in it that night, and there were campfires kindled here and there outside of the wall for the lancers. There were a few tents, but the greater part of the force was compelled to bivouac upon its blankets. The Comanches were known not to have crossed the Rio Grande, and there was no fear of a night attack, so that only the ordinary sentries and patrols had been posted.

The most important of these were in charge of the "corral," where the cavalry horses were picketed, and with them a large drove of half-trained mustangs which had been gathered to fill the places of such animals as were from time to time used up by reckless riders. The rancheros are hors.e.m.e.n, but they are almost horse-killers in their merciless spurring.

"Heap pony!" said Red Wolf to himself, when at last he was able to crawl along the ground, within watching distance of the corral.

"Mexican bad eye. Lose pony. Great Bear send brave. Ugh!"

An indistinct shadow was moving along not many yards from him. Another lay very still a little farther off, but this latter shadow was the body of the sentry who had gone to sleep on his post. There was no one there now but Red Wolf to note the pa.s.sage of several more shadows, not in uniform. He crept a little farther and lay still in a hollow. He hardly breathed, for it was equally dangerous to retreat or to go forward.

"Lie down heap," he thought. "See what come. Ugh! Comanche bring horse. Pin pony. Go back for more."

That was precisely what had been done by the daring and expert red horse-thieves. They were unsurpa.s.sed in that line of business, and they had made their selections with care. Only the best of the animals tethered near that point by the lancers had been selected for removal.

Nevertheless, the red men were few. They could not spare a sentry.

They did but secure their first string of prizes by lariats and pins before they went in for another lot.

"Big Knife want horse," remarked the young Lipan to himself. "Red Wolf take. Comanche lose pony."

It was short creeping, and then the pins were out and the string of stolen quadrupeds was once more in motion. Their feet hardly made a sound upon the sand as they went. They were led on to the shelter of some bushes, and there Red Wolf left them that he might once more snake his way back to his perilous post of observation. It seemed like going to almost certain death, but he worked his stealthy way along until he could see a tall warrior, leading several ponies, come to a sudden halt at the place where the first captures had been left.

"Ugh!" exclaimed the warrior. "Heap pony gone. More braves come take 'em. Good. Take more pony."

He believed, therefore, that his own tribesmen had been there, but at that moment a shrill "Who-o-o-op" sounded from the darkness near him.

Almost unconsciously, or from the force of habit, he replied to it with his own war-cry. Following that came a dozen more from within the corral. One after another, in quick succession, every Mexican sentinel fired off his musket in sudden alarm. A bugler caught up his bugle and began to blow it loudly. It was a hubbub of mingled sounds, but the warriors in the corral sprang each upon the back of the nearest pony and plied his whip savagely upon the frightened animals around him.

Horses neighed, mules brayed, red men whooped, cavalrymen shouted, and the net result was a wild stampede of every brute that was loose or that could break his tether. Of course, they all ran after the first to get away, and these had struck out into the open country.

It was no time for Red Wolf to care what became of the drove, the hacienda, or the Comanches. He had retreated after sounding his mischievous whoop, and he was now on the back of one of the stolen horses, with the others following patiently in a string behind him.

They at least had escaped being stampeded, and at the same time a large number of their four-footed comrades were on their way to the river under the care of the successful warriors of Great Bear.

There was no danger that General Bravo's crack regiment would be in pursuit of anybody very early the next morning.

The night was indeed nearly gone when Jim Cheyne, standing sentry for the Texans, was hailed from among the bushes,--

"Red Wolf! Want Big Knife. Bring pony."

"Colonel," shouted Jim, "here's that buster boy again. He's been stealing ponies from the Greasers. He'll do."

"He will!" exclaimed Bowie, springing to his feet and coming forward.

In a few minutes more he said it again, and so did they all with emphasis, but the colonel added, gloomily,--

"It's almost sun-up, boys. What I want is to hear from Tetzcatl and Castro and the Lipans."

"Glad we've a lot of fresh mounts, anyhow," said Joe. "What we need most is to be able to git away."

"We will go to the river-bank first," said Bowie. "Castro is to meet us there. Even Tetzcatl believed the Lipans had gone across the river."

"If they did it's all day with them," replied Cheyne, but Red Wolf did not at all understand him. He was just then, under Colonel Bowie's instructions, selecting for his own use the very best of the fine animals he had so daringly captured and brought to camp.

The camp-fires were soon blazing, but little time could be given to breakfast. Their present position was too perilous. Parties of lancers would surely be out, and there were too many of them. Besides, there were the Comanches, and no man knew when or where they might make their appearance.

It was bright morning when the little cavalcade, with its fine supply of extra horses, filed out from among the woods and went slowly northward.

"I kind o' wish we were all back at the Alamo," remarked Joe.

"We won't go in that direction jest yit," said Jim Cheyne. "We'd better ride clean across the continent."

"Halt!" sprang from the lips of Colonel Bowie. "Here he comes! My G.o.d, boys! What's happened?"

Not with his usual swiftly gliding step, but staggering and panting as if in pain, the old Tlascalan appeared at a little distance ahead of them. He was alone, and he motioned to them to stay where they were.

"Find Comanche," suggested Red Wolf.

Bowie was silent, but when the old man drew near enough he asked,--

"Did you sight the Lipans?"

"All gone!" gasped Tetzcatl.

"Castro?"

"Gone!" came faintly back. "Great Bear's whole band. My mule! We must push on! They are crossing the Rio!"

Bowie sprang to the ground and strode forward.

"Man alive!" he said. "Where are you hurt? Tell us the rest of it while I fix you up. Jim, get that plaster and scissors out of my saddle-bags. We mustn't lose him just now."

Off came the _serape_ from the old man's shoulders and an awful gash was discovered. His left arm told of an arrow, and there was a deep cut on his head. He was tough indeed to have carried all those hurts with him across the Rio Grande.

"I'm surgeon enough," remarked the colonel. "I don't believe he can live, boys, but we must do the best we can. Put him on his mule."

The wounds had been dressed with much care and skill, but the wounded man had hardly seemed to think of them. Briefly and clearly he told of his scouting beyond the river; of a meeting with Castro and then with the party of Lipans. There had been an attempt to rejoin the Texans, but in making it the entire force of Great Bear, called out by the return of the horse-thieves from the hacienda, had suddenly swarmed around them. Tetzcatl had escaped mainly because he was on foot, but a lance-thrust in the dark and the arrows that fell like snow had done their work upon him. Here he was now, to say as persistently as ever,--

"Gold! The treasure of Montezuma."

"What do we care for gold just now?" grumbled Jim Cheyne. "I'm thinkin' of the ha'r on my head."

Tetzcatl raised his uninjured arm, as he sat upon his mule, and pointed toward the hacienda.

"Bravo's lancers," he said, "sweeping the whole country."

"Fact!" said Jim, but Tetzcatl now pointed northward.

"Great Bear and his Comanches all the way to the Alamo."

"That's about so," came from one of the rangers. "We can't git through 'em."