The Lost Gold of the Montezumas: A Story of the AlamoStoddard, William O.
General
The Lost Gold of the Montezumas: A Story of the Alamo
Stoddard, William O.
Alamo (San Antonio, Tex.) -- Siege, 1836 -- Juvenile fiction
He sprang upon the back of the mustang, turned and blew a short, sharp
whistle, and galloped away. Hundreds of men may have heard the
whistle, but only one understood it. Not a solitary Mexican at once
followed the vanishing horseman, and he quickly was beyond successful
following.
Hoarse shouts had gone after him, truly. Orders to halt, with Spanish
inquiries and execrations, had sounded from all directions. It was
understood that something or other had happened, and there were
officers who at once began to investigate the matter.
The proper direction of their first efforts was plainly indicated by an
extraordinary disturbance in the corral. Quite a large number of the
horses were now loose and they were running around excitedly. It did
not arise to the dignity of a stampede, but the guards who first rushed
in came near being trampled down. These were joined at once by the too
zealous sentries of a battery which had been stationed at the right of
the corral, so that its guns were for the moment left to take care of
themselves.
"Don't I wish I had some spikes?" inquired a very low, hoarse chuckle
that was crawling along at the side of one of the guns. "If I had I'd
spile every touch-hole of this 'ere battery. Hullo! Thar they are. I
reckon I kin shew 'em a new p'int in the right way of handlin'
artillery. That is, if ary one of these long fours is primed."
After that there came a clicking of flint and steel, and then a soft
glow of fire close to the ground.
Louder grew the tumult in the corral, angrier and more numerously arose
the shouts and commands of the officers.
"Jim Carson's got clean away from 'em, I reckon," was spoken more
loudly, "but that lot of Greasers have marched to about the right spot.
Wonder what this thing is shotted with. Here she goes!"
A hand went up to the breech of the gun and then the first booming
alarm went out.
"Reckon 'twas a round shot," he said. "It fetched 'em. One more."
A second gun spoke out, and then a third, in quick succession, but to
Mexican ears it seemed the correct thing for any of their own guns to
do in case of a sudden alarm at night. It would show the garrison that
its besiegers were awake.
Nevertheless, the iron missiles had been sent with deadly effect among
the luckless detachment of infantry, and every man of it who was left
unhurt fired off his musket at the space in front of him and the
possible Gringos it might contain. Sentry after sentry, all along, in
camp after camp, followed that example, front and rear. The very
game-cocks in their coops crowed vigorously, and the general himself
came out of his tent to see what was the matter with them and with his
army.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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