



Produced by Al Haines










[Illustration: Cover art]





[Frontispiece: "This is a terrible piece of work."  Page 185.]






THE LOST GOLD OF

THE MONTEZUMAS


A STORY OF THE ALAMO


BY

WILLIAM O. STODDARD

AUTHOR OF "CHUMLEY'S POST," "CROWDED OUT O' CROFIELD," "THE TALKING
LEAVES," ETC.




WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

_CHARLES H. STEPHENS_





PHILADELPHIA

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

1898




COPYRIGHT, 1897,

BY

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER I.

The Gods of the Montezumas


CHAPTER II.

The Alamo Fort


CHAPTER III.

The Dream of the New Empire


CHAPTER IV.

The Race for the Chaparral


CHAPTER V.

Among the Bushes


CHAPTER VI.

The Old Cash-Box


CHAPTER VII.

The Escape of the Rangers


CHAPTER VIII.

The Camp at the Spring


CHAPTER IX.

The Skirmish in the Night


CHAPTER X.

A Baffled Pursuit


CHAPTER XI.

The Charge of the Lancers


CHAPTER XII.

The Horse-Thieves and the Stampede


CHAPTER XIII.

The Last of Tetzcatl


CHAPTER XIV.

The Perilous Path


CHAPTER XV.

The Return of the Gold Hunters


CHAPTER XVI.

The Army of Santa Anna


CHAPTER XVII.

The First Shot


CHAPTER XVIII.

Crockett's Alarm Gun


CHAPTER XIX.

The Reinforcement


CHAPTER XX.

Nearing the End




ILLUSTRATIONS


"This is a terrible piece of work"......... _Frontispiece._

"Good!  Tetzcatl go to the Alamo"

"Heap dollar," remarked Red Wolf

"Ugh!" screeched the Comanche at the end of a terrific minute, and
  he sank into the grass

In rode the very airy captain of lancers

A dark, stern, terrible shape half rose from a couch




CHAPTER I.

THE GODS OF THE MONTEZUMAS.

It was a gloomy place.  It would have been dark but for a heap of
blazing wood upon a rock at one side.  That is, it looked like a rock
at first sight, but upon a closer inspection it proved to be a cube of
well-fitted, although roughly finished, masonry.  It was about six feet
square, and there were three stone steps leading up in front.

Behind this altar-like structure a vast wall of the natural rock, a
dark limestone, had been sculptured into the shape of a colossal and
exceedingly ugly human face,--as if the head of a stone giant were half
sunken in that side of what was evidently an immense cave.

There were men in the cave, but no women were to be seen.  Several of
the men were standing near the altar, and one of them was putting fuel
upon the fire.  The only garment worn by any of them was a ragged
blanket, the Mexican _serape_.  In the middle of the blanket was a
hole, and when the wearer's head was thrust through this he was in full
dress.

There was no present need for carrying weapons, but arms of all
sorts--lances, swords, bows and sheaves of arrows--were strewn in
careless heaps along the base of the wall.  Besides these, and
remarkable for their shapes and sizes, there were a number of curiously
carved and ornamented clubs.  All the men visible were old and
emaciated.  They were wrinkled, grimy, dark, with long, black-gray
hair, and coal-black, beady eyes.  Withal, there was about them a
listless, unoccupied, purposeless air, as if they were only half alive.

They seemed to see well enough in that lurid half light, and they
wandered hither and thither, now and then exchanging a few words in
some harsh and guttural dialect that seemed to have no dividing pauses
between its interminable words.

Nevertheless, this was not the only tongue with which they were
familiar, for one of the men at the altar turned to those who were near
him and spoke to them in Spanish.

"The gods have spoken loudly," he said.  "They have been long without
service.  They are hungry.  Tetzcatl will go.  He will find if the
Americans are strong enough to strike the Spaniards in Texas.  He will
bring them to serve the gods in the valley of the old kings.  He will
stir up the Comanches and the Lipans.  The Apaches in the west are
already busy.  The gods will be quiet if he can arouse for them the
enemies of Spain."

For a moment the dark figures stood as still as so many statues, and
then a sepulchral voice arose among them.

"The men of the North will not come," it said.  "The Texans cannot
defend their own towns from the locusts of Santa Anna.  The Comanches
and the Lipans are scalping each other.  The Apaches have been beaten
by Bravo's lancers.  All white men need to be hired or they will not
fight.  We have nothing wherewith to hire them."

A hoarse and mocking laugh burst from the lips of Tetzcatl.  "Hire
them?  Pay them?" he said.  "No!  But hunters can bait wolves.  If the
trap is rightly set, the wolves will never reach the bait.  They will
but fall into the pit they are lured to.  Come!  Let us look at the
fire that was kindled for Guatamoczin.  The Spaniards perished in the
mountains when they came to hunt for the hidden treasures of the
Montezumas."

Slowly, as if their withered limbs almost refused to carry them, the
weird, dingy, ghastly figures followed him deeper into the cave, and
each took with him a blazing pine-knot for a torch.  Not one of them
appeared to be aroused, as yet, to any especial interest, nor did they
talk as they went.  Tetzcatl, however, led the way with a vigor of
movement that was in startling contrast to the listlessness of his dark
companions.

There was no door to unlock, there were no bars to remove,