"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." [Illustration: "HEAP DOLLAR," REMARKED RED WOLF] "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." "My boy," said Bowie, "you come along with me. I'll take care of you. You shall have a rifle, pistols, knives, blankets, horses, anything you want. Now, Red Wolf, look!" He pointed at the covering they were putting on. "Heap hide! No tell! Dollars lie still!" "Red Wolf shut mouth," was all the spoken reply, but his eyes blazed with the pride he felt over the reception of his "find" by the white hero. It was almost like being already a chief to be on intimate, confidential terms with so celebrated a warrior, with a leader whose ordinary manner was as haughty almost as that of Castro. A few handfuls of dust, a careful wiping out of foot- and hand-marks, and then the secret of the wall was as safe as it had ever been.