"We're played out," replied Crockett, thoughtfully. "We've borrowed all we could. We've taxed till we can't put on any more. Uncle Sam won't let us have any. Houston, we're in a hole." "The worst of it is right here," continued Houston. "If the legislature lays a tax, all the cash is appropriated before it's collected. What I want is some money to spend without giving any account of it. We want a powder-and-lead fund. I've spent all I had." "You kin skin my pile," said Crockett. "Wish thar was more of it. We're torn down poor. We might almost be whipped by Santa Anna for want of money to keep the men in the field. Think of losing the Alamo!" "I couldn't help it just now if we did," groaned Houston. "It's safe yet." "'Tis till somebody comes to take it," was the ominous response of Crockett, as he lowered his rifle and put on his coonskin. "Just as I told ye. Travis is off on his scout with half the garrison. Bowie went on that expedition of his, and I hope he may get back. Thar isn't enough powder in the fort to fire all the guns more'n twice 'round. No provisions to speak of. No nothin'. If Greasers enough came, they could a' most walk right in." "They're not ready to come yet," said Houston; "but they're coming, Davy! There 'll be blood when they get in as far as the Alamo!" "You bet thar will!" shouted Crockett, springing to his feet. "I mean to be thar when they come. We kin hold it ag'in' all Mexico if we've men and powder." The two Texan patriots were not in any house. They had been sitting side by side upon a log not far from a rail-fence corner where their horses were hitched. From what they said it appeared that they had met there by appointment. It was as good a parlor as such men needed to discuss affairs of state in. Houston had now risen, and they were walking toward their horses. "Crockett," he said, "it's time for me to git up and git. You go on to Washington. See what you can do. Inquire about rifles and cannon and ammunition." "Well," replied Crockett, "money's the best kind of am'nition, but we needn't forget one thing. Santa Anna feels a kind of bowel grip right thar. He can't fetch as many rancheros as he'd like to cross the Rio Grande with. He'd ruther 'tend a cock-fight any day than meet us in a shootin' match, onless he was ten to one." "I wouldn't mind four to one," said Houston, "but I would mind being cut up for lack of powder to shoot with." "You bet!" said Crockett, bitterly. "Think of bein' jest murdered by Greasers!" They had reached their horses, and in a moment more they were steadily galloping northward.