While this was going on, Bowie had been busy with the spare rifles that had just arrived, and now he made his appearance, carrying two weapons that were more ornamental than the rest, for both were silver mounted. "Travis," he said, "this is for the chief, and this is the one I promised Red Wolf." "They've earned 'em," exclaimed Crockett. "Give 'em a first-rate outfit. Hope they'll kill a grist of Greasers." Colonel Travis himself presented the rifles, but his words were few. Castro took his own and examined it all over. "Ugh!" he said. "Heap shoot. Travis kill Mexican with big gun. Red Wolf take rifle. Come!" Red Wolf's eyes had been glittering with delight. Never before had he heard of an Indian boy of his age owning a really first-class rifle with all its accoutrements of wiping-stick, ramrod, powder-horn, and bullet-pouch. Those were the days of flintlocks, and the long-barrelled shooting-irons did not need any "cap-box" to go with them. He was hardly expected to say much, but he made out to tell the colonel,-- "Red Wolf shoot a heap. Mexican lose hair. Wipe out Comanche." As he finished speaking, however, Bowie himself laid a hand on his shoulder. "Red Wolf go with his father now," he said. "Come back to Big Knife. Chief, let him come as soon as you can." He had understood a sentence that Castro had uttered in his own tongue with its accompanying "sign." "Chief send boy," replied Castro. "Go now. Travis fight a heap." The two Lipans were upon the backs of their fresh mustangs the next minute, and they rode out of the gate as if some errand of importance hurried them. "Reckon they think we've got our work cut out for us," said Crockett. "They've seen the Mexican army," replied Bowie, "and they know just what's coming. So do we, but we mustn't say anything to discourage the men." A watcher at a loop-hole saw Castro and Red Wolf wheel around the corner of the wall and gallop westward, but before he could report the direction they had taken the garrison was startled by the roar of a cannon from one of the southern embrasures. There had been a reason for the course taken by the Lipans. "Who fired that gun?" shouted Travis, angrily. "Who fired without orders?" "I did," came promptly back from Sergeant Daly. "I had the best kind of a bead on that crowd of lancers. It was only a four-pound shot, but it ploughed right into 'em." "Not another charge is to be wasted," replied Travis. "We need every kernel. We were none too quick about the corral, though." "Travis," said Bowie, quietly, "our time's about come. Houston must send us more men or we can't so much as man the walls."