"If we don't look out," said Crockett to Travis that afternoon, as they stood together in the open gate-way of the Alamo, "the Greasers 'll catch us all in bed. But don't I wish I knew what had become of Bowie and his men?" "They won't fetch back any gold," replied Travis; "but I'd like to see them if they rode in as bare as redskins." "Colonel," exclaimed Crockett, "give me a dozen men and let me take a scout over the south prairie. I might have some kind o' luck. Might knock over a Comanche." "Let you have 'em?" said Travis, with sudden energy. "Take 'em! I'll come right along with you. I'm dog tired of loafing in this coop. Get your men." The rangers of the garrison were as weary of inaction as was their commander, and double the number called for almost insisted upon mounting for the proposed scout. "The fort 'll keep till we git back," remarked Crockett; "but if I don't git out of it and shoot something I shall spile." There were very good military reasons for precisely such an errand of inquiry. The vicinity of prowling savages was pretty well known, and it was desirable to learn as much more as possible. The party from the fort rode out, therefore, and they were well upon their way, but they were not near enough to hear the whoops of Great Bear's warriors nor the cracking of the first rifles which replied. There had been a steady onward march of Bowie's men, without any other change in the situation than an increase in the number of their enemies. "Boys," the colonel said, "we've gained about a mile and a half, but they're closing in on us a little. Let 'em have a pill first chance you get. Halt!" There they stood, their rifles levelled across the saddles. It was hardly worth while to waste their small stock of powder upon swiftly careering horsemen, although now these were frequently within range. "I'll take that drove," exclaimed Jim, as several of the whoopers wheeled into a closely gathered group. "Got him!" he shouted, as his rifle cracked. "One more," added Bowie. "Hold your fire, men. It won't do to have too many guns empty at one time." The backs of two mustangs were empty, however, and the yells which followed were those of angry braves who had been stung to rashness rather than intimidated. Of course, they all wheeled away at first, taking their dead comrades with them. The Texans again moved steadily forward, but hardly more than a quarter of a mile had been gained before Bowie shouted,-- "Here they are, men! The whole band has got in on us this time. They're gathering for a rush. Ready! Die game!" A swarm,--a cloud,--an overwhelming torrent of the fierce cavalry of the plains, was forming in loose but effective array to sweep in upon their victims. What could six rifles and two bows do against such a storm as was now about to burst? "Die like men!" shouted Bowie. "Kill every redskin you can draw a bead on!"