"He may. He may," replied the general. "At all events, I must set out with the cash. I must send you all the help I can right away. Then I must raise troops and march to meet the Mexicans. It's a blue time for Texas, but this is a ray of light." It was only one ray, for in all other directions the prospect seemed dark. His own preparations for departure were made at once, and in the gloom of that very evening he rode away. "We must go all night," he said, "and not a soul outside the fort must know what we're taking with us." About an hour later, eleven men sat together in the upper corner room of the convent building, and every man of them bound by an oath and by his word of honor to keep secret all he might hear. "Boys," said Bowie to his own men, "if Travis and Crockett are let in and no more, the secret is just as safe. I don't feel as if they were outsiders." "Just the same as ourselves," replied Jim Cheyne. "They're to help us git up the expedition. But what about the gold bars we fetched this time? They'd tell it all if we showed 'em now." "Keep 'em for expenses when we are ready for business," said Bowie. "I didn't say a word of them to Houston. We can hole them right here in the corner of this room. Safe as a bank." "And if Santa Anna captures the fort, what then?" asked Joe. "Nobody 'll ever hear of any gold he got here," replied Bowie, grimly. "If one of his men found it, he'd take it away from him and have him shot for desertion." The bars belonging to the men were brought, and they made only a small pile, after all, when packed in a corner, under the couch, with old saddles stuffed in front of them. Red Wolf's prizes, of course, were not included. "Ugh!" said Castro, after watching the operation. "Big Knife kill Travis. Kill Crockett. No kill all Texan. Heap shut mouth. Montezuma talk, all bad medicine." "All right, Castro," said Bowie. "When my time comes I shall die." "What does he mean?" asked Travis. "You couldn't root it out of him," said Bowie. "He believes that every white man who meddles with this stuff is bound to go under. It's poison." "Out with your yarn, then," said Crockett. "I'll take my chances. You kin name the day for my funeral." Steadily, from step to step, the colonel told the story of his raid into Mexico. Not a word was uttered by anybody else until he came to the description of the cavern. "Ugh!" exclaimed Castro. "Heap bad medicine. Now Travis go under. Crockett lose hair." He evidently did not wish to hear any more himself, but curiosity is a strong tether, and, after all, he was an Indian, and upon him the mysterious peril might not have so much power. Red Wolf knew the secret already, and nothing evil had as yet happened to him. The chief remained, therefore, in silence, while Bowie told of the human sacrifices, the fate of Tetzcatl, and the heaps of ingots, tons and tons of them.