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[Illustration: "'REMEMBER THE ALAMO! DOWN WITH SANTA ANNA!'"]
Mexican War Series
FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS
BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of "With Taylor on the Rio Grande," "Under Scott in Mexico,"
"Dave Porter Series," "Old Glory Series," "Pan-American Series,"
"Lakeport Series," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED BY LOUIS MEYNELLE_
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Copyright, 1900, by Dana Estes & Company
Copyright, 1909, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.
_All Rights Reserved_
For the Liberty of Texas
SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY COLONIAL PRESS, BOSTON
Printed by BERWICK & SMITH CO., NORWOOD
PREFACE.
"For the Liberty of Texas" is a tale complete in itself, but it forms
the first of a line of three volumes to be known under the general
title of the "Mexican War Series."
Primarily the struggle of the Texans for freedom did not form a part of
our war with Mexico, yet this struggle led up directly to the greater
war to follow, and it is probably a fact that, had the people of Texas
not at first accomplished their freedom, there would have been no war
between the two larger republics.
The history of Texas and her struggle for liberty is unlike that of any
other State in our Union, and it will be found to read more like a
romance than a detail of facts. Here was a territory, immense in size,
that was little better than a wilderness, a territory gradually
becoming settled by Americans, Mexicans, Spaniards, French, and
pioneers of other nations, a territory which was the home of the
bloodthirsty Comanche and other Indians, and which was overrun with
deer, buffalo, and the wild mustang, and which was, at times, the
gathering ground for the most noted desperadoes of the southwest.
This territory formed, with Coahuila, one of the States of Mexico, but
the government was a government in name only, and the people of Texas
felt that it was absolutely necessary that they withdraw from the
Mexican Confederation, in order to protect themselves, their property,
and their individual rights, for, with the scheming Mexicans on one
side of them, and the murderous Indians on the other, nothing was safe
from molestation.
The contest was fought largely by men who knew little or nothing of the
art of war, but men whose courage was superb. At first only defeat
stared the intrepid band in the face, and hundreds were lost at the
Alamo, at the massacre of Goliad, and elsewhere, but then there came
upon the scene the figure of the dashing and daring General Sam
Houston, and under his magnetic leadership the army of the Mexican
general, Santa Anna, was routed utterly, and the liberty of Texas was
secured beyond further dispute.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE HOME ON THE FRONTIER 11
II. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE DEER 19
III. A QUARREL AND ITS RESULT 28
IV. SOMETHING ABOUT THE INDIANS IN TEXAS 36
V. THE ATTACK ON THE RANCH 44
VI. POKE STOVER TO THE FRONT 53
VII. IN AND OUT OF THE BURNING CABIN 62
VIII. AN UNSUCCESSFUL PURSUIT 71
IX. BIG FOOT AND THE MISSING PAPERS 81
X. THE SITUATION IN MEXICO 89
XI. THE OPENING OF THE WAR 97
XII. THE MARCH ON SAN ANTONIO 105
XIII. A FIGHT WITH A PUMA 113
XIV. THE BATTLE OF CONCEPCION 121
XV. DAN TURNS THE TABLES 129
XVI. AFTER A MISSING MUSTANG 137
XVII. THE GRASS FIGHT, AND WHAT FOLLOWED 145
XVIII. DAN COMES TO GRIEF 154
XIX. THE CAVE IN THE RAVINE 161
XX. FLIGHT AND PURSUIT 169
XXI. WHAT HAPPENED TO RALPH 177
XXII. THE ATTACK ON SAN ANTONIO 185
XXIII. THE SURRENDER OF THE CITY 194
XXIV. A MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY 204
XXV. MARCH OF SANTA ANNA INTO TEXAS 212
XXVI. WILD TURKEYS AND ANOTHER TRAIL 223
XXVII. THE MEXICAN ARMY AT SAN ANTONIO 233
XXVIII. WITHIN THE WALLS OF THE MISSION 242
XXIX. THE FALL OF THE ALAMO 250
XXX. ESCAPING TO THE RIVER 257
XXXI. SOMETHING ABOUT GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 265
XXXII. IN WHICH THE TEXAN ARMY FALLS BACK 274
XXXIII. THE VICTORY OF SAN JACINTO 283
XXXIV. BACK TO THE RANCH--CONCLUSION 293
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
"'REMEMBER THE ALAMO! DOWN WITH SANTA ANNA!'" _FRONTISPIECE_
"'YOU SHA'N'T LEAVE THIS SPOT UNTIL YOU GIVE UP THAT DEER,
AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!'" 27
"FOLLOWING THE TRAIL OF THE COMANCHES" 70
"'HOLD ON,' HE CRIED TO HENRY PARKER. 'SOMETHING IS IN
THAT BUSH!'" 98
"'HOLD BACK!' YELLED DAN" 157
"'YOU RASCAL! GET BACK, OR I'LL SHOOT!'" 212
"'THAT'S WHAT I CALL A PRETTY GOOD HAUL,' CRIED DAN,
ENTHUSIASTICALLY" 229
"HE BEGAN TO LOWER HIMSELF INTO THE HOLE" 258
FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS.
CHAPTER I.
THE HOME ON THE FRONTIER.
"Dan! Dan! Come quick and see what I brought down with the gun!"
"Why, Ralph, was that you I heard shooting? I thought it was father."
"No; I was out, down by the river bank, and I brought down the finest
deer you ever set eyes on. He was under the bunch of pecan-trees, and I
let him have it straight in the neck and brought him down the first
crack. Now what do you think of that?"
Ralph Radbury's rather delicate face was all aglow with excitement and
pardonable pride, as he spoke, leaning on his father's gun, a long,
old-fashioned affair that had been in the family's possession for many
years. Ralph was but a boy of eight, although years of life in the open
air had given him the appearance of being older.
"What do I think?" cried Dan, who was Ralph's senior by six years. "I
think you'll become a second Davy Crockett or Dan'l Boone if you keep
on. It's a wonder the deer let you come so close. The wind is blowing
toward the stream."
"I trailed around to the rocks where we had the tumble last winter, and
then I came up as silently as a Comanche after a scalp. I was just
about ready to fire when the deer took alarm, but I caught him when he
raised his head, and all he gave was one leap and it was all over.
Where is father? I must tell him." And Ralph looked around impatiently.
"I don't know where father is, if he isn't down by the river. I thought
he went off to look up those hogs that got away last Saturday. In these
times, so he says, we can't afford to lose six fat porkers."
"Perhaps those rushers who were on their way to Bexar rounded them up
on the sly."
"No; father put the crowd down for honest men, and he rarely makes a
mistake in judging a man, Ralph. Either the hogs got away by themselves
or else some of those sneaking Comanches have been around again."
"Oh, Dan, that puts me in mind,--when I was up at the rocks I was
almost certain I saw one of the Indians farther up the river. As soon
as I looked that way he dodged out of sight, so I only caught one
glimpse of him--if he really was an Indian."
At his younger brother's words, Dan Radbury's face took on a look of
deep concern. "You are not real sure it was an Indian?" he questioned,
after a pause.
"No, but I'm pretty sure, too. But even if it was an Indian it might
have been Choctaw Tom, you know."
"You're wrong there, Ralph. All the Caddo Indians are friendly to the
whites, and if it was Tom he wouldn't hide away after you had spotted
him. More than likely it was a dirty Comanche, and if it was--well, we
had better tell father about it, that's all."
"Why, you don't think----" Ralph paused, abruptly.
"I know a Comanche isn't to be trusted. Come, let us look at the deer,
and let us try to find father at the same time. Is the gun loaded?"
"No." Ralph looked sheepish. "I--I was so pleased to bring down the
deer I forgot all about loading again."
_
"Then you're not such a famous hunter, after all, Ralph. The wise man,
especially in these parts, loads up before his gun-barrel has a chance
to cool. Put in your load at once, and I'll bring along that Mexican
_escopeta_ father traded in for a mustang last week. I don't believe
the old gun is of much account, but it will be better than nothing."
"Father wouldn't take it from the greaser if it wasn't all right. But
why must we both be armed? Do you think the Indians are close by?"
"As I said before, I don't believe in trusting these bloodthirsty
Comanches. Poke Stover knows them like a book, and he says they are
just aching to go on the war-path, now the government is having so much
trouble of its own."
"If the Indians are around it won't be safe to leave the cabin alone,"
was the younger boy's comment.
"I reckon we can leave it for awhile, Ralph. We won't be gone more than
an hour, at the most," concluded Dan Radbury, as he disappeared into
the cabin for the firearm he had mentioned.
The scene was that of a typical frontier home, in the heart of Texas,
close to the Guadalupe River, and about ten miles from what was then
the village of Gonzales. It was the year 1835, and the whole of
northern and western Texas could truthfully be put down as a "howling
wilderness," overrun with deer, bison, bears, and other wild animals,
wild horses, and inhabited only by the savage and lawless Comanche,
Apache, Cherokee, and numerous other tribes of Indians. As regards the
rest of the State, it may briefly be stated that this immense territory
of thousands of square miles contained not over twenty-two thousand
white and black people combined. How many Indians there were is not
definitely known, but they have been estimated at fifteen to eighteen
thousand. The main cities were San Antonio de Bexar, San Felipe de
Austin, Nacogdoches, San Augustine, Columbia, and the seaport town of
Velasco, but not one of these boasted of more than thirty-five hundred
inhabitants.
To this territory had come, three years before, Amos Radbury, the
father of the two lads introduced at the beginning of this chapter. The
family were from Georgia, where Mr. Radbury had once owned a large
interest in a tobacco plantation. But a disastrous flood had robbed him
not only of the larger portion of his property, but also of his much
beloved wife, and, almost broken-hearted, the planter had sold off his
remaining interest in the plantation for five thousand dollars, and
emigrated, first to New Orleans, and then to his present home. The trip
from New Orleans had been made in a prairie wagon, drawn by a double
yoke of oxen, and had consumed many weeks, and that trip over the
prairies, through the almost trackless forests, and across numerous
dangerous fords, was one which the boys were likely never to forget. On
the way they had fallen in with a small band of treacherous Indians,
but they had been saved by the timely arrival of some friendly Caddos,
under the leadership of Canoma, a chief well known throughout the
length and breadth of Texas.
On reaching the Guadalupe River, a stop of two weeks had been made at
Gonzales, and then Mr. Radbury had obtained possession of a grant of
land embracing over five hundred acres, the tract lying on both sides
of the stream. The price paid for the land was ten cents per acre. This
is not to be wondered at, since land in other portions of the State was
sold as low as two cents per acre!
The three years spent in the wilderness had done wonders for all of the
members of the family. The hard work of clearing off the timber,
planting, and of building a cabin and a cattle shelter, had done much
to make Mr. Radbury forget his grief over the loss of his wife and
property, and the rough outdoor life had made Daniel Radbury "as tough
as a pine-knot," as he was wont to say himself. It had likewise done
much for little Ralph, who had been a thin and delicate lad of five
when leaving the old home in the magnolia grove in far-off Georgia.
Even yet Ralph was not as strong as Dan, but he was fast becoming so,
much to his parent's satisfaction.
Amos Radbury's venture had prospered from the start. The land was rich
and his crops were consequently heavy, and no disease reached his
cattle, which speedily grew to the number of several hundred heads. In
addition to his beeves he had nearly a hundred hogs, and during the
last year had taken to raising horses and mustangs, for the market at
Bexar, as San Antonio was commonly called.
The raising of mustangs had been a source of much satisfaction to the
boys, who speedily learned to ride so well that even the liveliest of
the animals failed to shake one or the other off, although, of course,
neither could do a thing when the beast got down and began to roll
over.
"It's immense, to ride like the wind!" Dan would cry. "There is no
better sport in the world! I don't wonder the Indians enjoy it so
much."
"Yes, the Indians enjoy it, and they'll enjoy getting our mustangs,
too, if we give them the chance," had been Mr. Radbury's reply. But so
far only one mustang had been taken, and that by a Comanche half-breed
named Hank Stiger. Stiger had been accused of the crime by Mr. Radbury,
but had pleaded his innocence, and the pioneer had dropped the matter
rather than have more trouble, since it was known that the half-breed
and the Comanches in the neighbourhood were closely related in all
their underhanded work. In those days it was no uncommon thing to hang
a horse thief, but had this happened to Hank Stiger, it is likely that
the Comanches under Bison Head, who had their hunting-grounds in the
Cross Timbers, so-called, of the upper Colorado River, would have gone
on the war-path immediately following.
CHAPTER II.
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE DEER.
The cabin was a strongly built affair of rough logs, fifteen feet deep
by thirty feet long. It was divided into two apartments on the ground
floor, the first used as a general living-room and the second as a
bedchamber. From the bedchamber a rude ladder ran to a loft, used as
extra sleeping-quarters when the Radburys had company, and also as a
storeroom. There were two windows in the sleeping-room below, and a
window and a door in the general living-room. Each of the windows were
shuttered with slabs of oak, secured, inside, by square bars of ash.
All of the furniture excepting one bed, a table, and two chairs was
home-made, and consequently rather primitive in style, and built more
for use than for ornamentation.
At one side of the living-room was a wide, open fireplace, and here,
above the mantel-shelf, hung the old Mexican _escopeta_, or cavalry
musket, which Dan intended to take along on his expedition to the spot
where Ralph had brought down the deer. Taking the gun down, the youth
saw to it that the weapon was loaded and ready for use, and rejoined
his brother.
In those days every Texan trusted his neighbour implicitly, and nobody
thought of locking up his home even though he expected to be gone
several days, unless it was thought that unfriendly Indians were about.
The Radburys had gone away frequently, leaving everything open, and had
never suffered, excepting as previously mentioned. Once, on returning,
they had found that some other settlers from fifty miles away had
stopped there over night, but this was explained in a note stuck to the
eating-table, the "neighbour" offering to "square up" on demand. When
the two parties met, Mr. Radbury told the other that the only way he
could settle up was by calling again,--which was the usual Texan method
of rounding out such hospitality.
"I've a good mind to lock up," remarked Dan, as he reached the
dooryard. "I don't like this idea of Indians spying about."
"Oh, come on," interrupted Ralph. "We won't be gone long, and no Indian
could do much in such a short time."
The elder brother shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know," he mused,
but when Ralph took hold of his arm, he suffered himself to be led
away; and soon they were hurrying for the river. There was quite a
clearing to cross, and as they gained the timber Dan paused to look
back and to gaze around them. But neither man nor beast was in sight.
On hurried the two boys, through a tangle of brush and tall pines, the
latter of the long straw variety and smelling strongly of turpentine
whereever the last storm had broken off a top or a heavy branch. Closer
to the stream was a stately row of cottonwoods, with here and there a
fragrant magnolia, which reminded the lads of the former homestead left
so many miles behind. It was the spring of the year and the magnolias
were just putting forth their buds, and Dan paused for a second to gaze
at them.
"I'll tell you what, Ralph, it will be a long while before Texas is as
civilised as Georgia," he observed.
"Will it ever be as civilised, Dan? I heard father say last week, when
he was talking to Brossom, that he never thought it would be,--so long
as Texas was joined to Coahuila and belonged to the Mexican
Confederation. He said Texas ought to be free."
"He is right, too,--we ought either to be free, or else belong to the
United States. It's all well enough for the Mexicans living in Coahuila
to belong to the Confederation if they want to, but they don't care for
us Americans, and they are going to grind us under if they can."
"But they were glad enough to have us come in, weren't they?--I mean at
first."
"Yes, when Stephen Austin came in with his first batch of emigrants
they welcomed the newcomers with open arms, and gave each man a large
tract of land for himself, one for his wife, and more land for each
child or servant, and they were mighty glad to have other _empresarios_
bring in emigrants, too, so I've read in the papers. But now they are
getting afraid that the Americans will overrule them, and there is
bound to be a lot of trouble sooner or later."
Ralph was anxious to show his brother his prize, and as they neared the
spot where the big deer had been brought down he ran on ahead, and so
the talk on State affairs came to an end. But Dan was right, there was
much trouble ahead, as we shall see as our story progresses.
The cottonwoods passed, the boys faced another small clearing, where a
forest fire years before had lain many a towering pine low. Beyond this
burnt and barren spot were the pecan-trees overhanging the river, where
the deer had come to slake his thirst when Ralph had trailed him and
brought him low.
"Oh, Dan! The deer's gone!"
The cry came straight from Ralph's heart, as with staring eyes he ran
in under the pecan-trees and gazed at the spot where the game had
rested less than an hour before.
"Gone?" repeated the brother. "Then you didn't kill him?"
"Yes, I did,--I am sure of it, for I turned him over after he was shot.
Could some wild animal have carried him off?"
"More than likely, although it would take a pretty fair sized animal to
tote a deer, especially if he was as big as you say. Let us see if we
can find any tracks."
They began to search around the bank of the stream, and soon discovered
a number of footprints.
"Indian moccasins!" exclaimed Dan. "Ralph, you were right about that
Indian. He was watching you, and after you left the deer he came in and
took possession."
"But he hadn't any right to do that," burst out the smaller boy,
angrily. It cut him to the heart to have his first big game taken from
him. "It's downright robbery."
"It certainly wasn't fair, but about its being robbery, that's
questionable. You shouldn't have left your game without leaving
something on top of it, a knife or anything, just to show that you were
coming back for it."
"But this is father's land."
"It isn't fenced yet, and the Indians don't recognise such ownership,
anyway."
"But they must have known I was coming back. No one would throw away
such choice venison as that was." Ralph heaved a sigh. "I wish I was a
man,--I'd go after that redskin in short order, and make him either
give up the game or bring him down with my gun."
"If you shot him you'd bring on a regular war, more than likely. But if
you wish, we can follow this track for a stretch, and look for father
at the same time."
Ralph was more than willing to do this--anything to learn what had
really become of his game, and so they continued up the river bank for
the best part of half a mile. Here they came to a creek, leading
directly west, and saw that the footprints followed this new
water-course. Along the creek the way was rocky and uneven, and it was
plain to see where the deer had been dragged along.
Ralph was going on, with his eyes bent to the trail, when suddenly his
brother caught him by the arm, bringing him to a halt. In silence Dan
pointed to the opposite side of the creek, at a distance a hundred feet
farther up the water-course.
"It's Hank Stiger, the half-breed!" burst in a low tone from Ralph's
lips. "And see, he is tying my deer fast to his pony."
"You are right, Ralph."
"I'm not going to let him get away in this fashion!" went on the
younger lad, excitedly.
"He's got to give up that meat, or I'm going to know the reason why."
"Don't be rash. Hank Stiger is a bad man to deal with."
"Are you going to let him go without doing anything?" demanded Ralph.
"I'm sure you wouldn't if it was your deer!" he added, bitterly.
"No, we'll talk to him and put our claim as strongly as we can. But be
careful, that's all."
With this caution Dan ran along the bank of the creek until he reached
the ford where the half-breed had crossed. He went over, with Ralph at
his heels and both boys were within easy speaking distance of Hank
Stiger before the latter discovered them.
"Hi there, Stiger! what are you doing with that deer?" demanded Dan, as
he came closer, with his gun in both hands across his breast.
At the sound of the boy's voice the half-breed turned quickly and his
repulsive reddish-brown face fell sullenly. He was a short, stocky
fellow, with a tangled head of hair and wolfish eyes which betrayed the
Comanche blood that flowed in his veins from his mother's side.
"Who are you?" demanded the man, hardly knowing what to say, so
completely had he been taken by surprise.
"I am Dan Radbury, as you know very well. This is my brother Ralph, and
he shot the deer you are carrying off."
"Not much!" ejaculated the half-breed. "I brung that deer down
myself--shot him through the neck."
"It's not so!" burst out Ralph. "The deer is mine, I brought him down
over in the pecan grove on the river."
"Why, youngster, you're dead wrong, I tell you. I shot this deer right
down thar on this creek, two hours ago. He limped off after I hit him,
but I followed the trail easily and found him in the pecan grove, dead
from whar I had struck him in the neck."
This cool answer almost took Ralph's breath away from him. "It was I
struck him in the neck, Hank Stiger, and the deer belongs to me, and
you sha'n't bluff me out of my meat, either."
"Hush, Ralph, don't be so headstrong," remonstrated Dan, in low tones.
"You'll gain a good bit more by keeping cool."
At Ralph's words the half-breed let out a rough, unnatural laugh.
"Boy, you must be daft, to tell me I don't know when I bring down a
deer. The deer is mine, and if you shot at him you wasted your powder,
that's all."
So speaking, Hank Stiger swung himself on the back of his mustang,
which little beast looked all out of proportion to the deer and man
mounted on him. His gun was slung over his shoulder, and there he
allowed it to remain while he gathered up the reins and urged his pony
forward.
Ralph was white. As told before, he was but a boy of eight, yet his
life on the frontier had given him the appearance of being ten or more.
Rushing in front of the mustang, he raised his gun and pointed the
muzzle at Stiger's head.
[Illustration: "'YOU SHA'N'T LEAVE THIS SPOT UNTIL YOU GIVE UP THAT
DEER, AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!'"]
"Stop where you are!" he cried, commandingly. "You sha'n't leave this
spot until you give up that deer, and that's all there is to it!"
CHAPTER III.
A QUARREL AND ITS RESULT.
It must be confessed that Hank Stiger was badly frightened when Ralph
confronted him with the loaded gun. He was naturally not an overly
brave fellow, and while the boy before him was young, yet he realised
that Ralph could shoot as well as many a man. Besides this, Dan was
there, and he was also armed, and now had his finger on the trigger of
the ancient cavalry musket.
"Don't shoot!" The words came from Dan. He could not help but admire
his brother's pluck, yet he was sorry that the affair had taken such an
acute turn. His caution was unnecessary, for Ralph had no intention of
firing, excepting Stiger should attempt to rush by him or use the gun
slung on his shoulder.
The mustang took several steps, and then the half-breed brought him to
an abrupt halt. "You're carrying matters with a putty high hand, to my
notion," he remarked, sarcastically.
An awkward pause followed, Ralph knowing not what to say, and glancing
at Dan, half afraid that his brother would be tremendously angry with
him over the hasty threat he had made. Yet he felt that he was in the
right, and he kept his gun-barrel on a line with the half-breed's head.
"Stiger, you might as well give up the deer," said Dan, as quietly as
he could. "It's Ralph's first big game, and of course he feels mighty
proud of it. A good shot like you ought to be able to bring down lots
of game of your own."
Dan imagined that this tempered speech and side praise would put the
half-breed in good humour, but he was mistaken. Stiger glanced from one
lad to the other, his face growing more sullen each instant.
"This deer is mine, and you can't force me to give it up," he muttered.
"Put down that gun, or we'll have trouble."
"You put down the deer, first," said Ralph, sturdily.
"It's my deer, not yours, and I won't put it down. I'm not afraid of
two youngsters like you."
Again Ralph's temper got the better of him. "You shall put it down,
Hank Stiger. You are nothing but a horse-thief, and I----"
"Ha! call me a hoss-thief!" ejaculated the half-breed, in a rage. "I
won't stand that, boy. You shall suffer for it."
"You are a horse-thief, and stole one of my father's animals last year.
Now you want to steal my deer, but you shall not do it. Dan, he's got
to give it up, hasn't he?"
"Yes, he has got to give it up," answered the older brother, seeing
that matters had gone too far for either of them to back down. Dan was
slow to make up his mind, but, once it was made up, he was
uncompromising to the last degree.
"Supposing I refuse to give up the deer?" came from the half-breed. He
spoke in a brusque manner, but there was a shade of anxiety in his
tone.
"You had better not refuse."
"You wouldn't dare to shoot at me."
"Don't you be too sure of that," put in Ralph. "You must remember that
father could have had you shot down for a horse-thief, had he wanted to
do so. I don't want any trouble with you, but I am bound to have my
game."
"All right, then, you keep the game!" ejaculated Hank Stiger, in deep
rage, and, turning on his mustang, he picked up the deer and flung it
to the earth. "But remember, I say I shot that deer and that he is
mine. Some day you'll rue your work here, mark my words!" And with an
angry shake of his dirty fist at them he kicked his mustang in the
sides and was soon lost to view in the forest to the north of the
creek.
The two boys watched him carefully, and they did not lower their guns
until they were certain that he had gone too far to turn and fire at
them. Then Ralph knelt over the deer and examined the torn open neck.
"There, I was sure of it!" he cried, triumphantly. "There is my bullet,
and that's the only shot he received."
"Let me see." Dan took the bullet. "You are right, Ralph. But, even so,
we have made an enemy of Stiger for life. He will never forgive you for
calling him a horse-thief."
"I don't care,--I got the deer. Do you believe he'll come back to make
more trouble?"
"There is no telling. I think we had better be getting back to the
house,--father doesn't seem to be anywhere about. There is a tree
branch. You can tie the game to that, and we can both pull it down the
creek to the river and then over to the burn. It won't be worth while
bringing a pony out to do it."
Both set to work, and in a few minutes the deer was fastened to the
branch and slid into the creek. The bottom was sandy, and the water
made the load slip along readily. The lads had just crossed the burn
with their drag when a gunshot rang out, coming from the direction of
the ranch home.
"Listen!" ejaculated Dan. "A shot from the house! What can that mean?"
He dropped his hold on the branch and leaped forward, unslinging the
_escopeta_ as he did so. For a moment Ralph hesitated, not wishing to
leave his game again, but then, as his brother disappeared into the
belt of timber hiding the cabin from their view, he also dropped his
hold, feeling that, even though a boy, his presence might be needed
elsewhere.
When Dan reached the clearing about the ranch home he found his father
in the doorway, rifle in hand, gazing anxiously in one direction and
another. Mr. Radbury was tall and thin, and constant exposure to the
sun had browned him considerably. A glance sufficed to show what he
really was, a Southern gentleman of the old school, despite the rough
life he was at present leading.
"Dan!" cried the parent, gladly. "I am happy to see you are safe. Where
is Ralph?"
"He is just behind me, father. But what's the trouble? Has anything
happened here while we have been away?"
"I hardly think so, but the Indians are around,--I saw two of them
directly across the river, and half a dozen at the big tree ford, all
Comanches, and several of them in their war-paint. I was afraid you had
had trouble with them."
"No, we've had trouble with somebody else," answered Dan, but before he
could go any further Ralph appeared. The tale about the deer and Hank
Stiger was soon told, Mr. Radbury listening with close attention.
"And do you think I did wrong, father?" questioned the youngest
Radbury, as he concluded his narrative.
"No, I can't say that, Ralph," was the grave answer. "But I am afraid
it will make us more trouble all around. Stiger and Bison Head are
intimate friends, and if the Indians are going on the war-path again,
the half-breed may direct an attack upon us. It was a great mistake to
speak about that stolen horse. We can't prove that Stiger took it,
although I am morally sure he was the guilty party."
After a short talk, it was decided that Mr. Radbury should go into the
timber for the deer alone, leaving Ralph and Dan to watch around the
cabin and the cattle shelter. At the shelter were several cows, used
for milking, and a number of pigs. The other stock was off on the range
between the ranch and Gonzales, grazing.
"I'd like to know if the cattle are safe," remarked Dan, after his
father had left. "If those Indians should take it into their heads to
round them up and drive them off it would be a big loss."
"Perhaps Hank Stiger will put them up to it," returned his brother. "I
suppose he is mad enough to do most anything."
Leaving Ralph to see to the defences of the ranch home, Dan hurried
down to the cattle shelter. This was in plain view of the cabin and
could readily be covered from two firing-holes left in the shutter
which covered one of the windows of the sleeping apartment.
Everything was as the youth had left it that morning, and there were no
indications that any marauders had been around during the absence of
Ralph and himself. The gate to the cattle enclosure was open, and some
of the cows were outside. These he drove in and then barred up the
gate.
Back of the cattle shed, at a distance of several hundred feet, was a
slight hollow, where there was a pool of water surrounded by
mesquite-trees and bushes. This pool could be seen only from the back
of the shed, and as Dan walked in that direction, something caught his
eye which instantly arrested his attention.
It was a plume of feathers waving above the bushes close to the pool.
There was a similar plume a short distance away.
"Turkey feathers," he muttered to himself. "But there are no wild
turkeys down there, and I know it. Father was right, the Comanches are
watching our home and surrounding it."
As soon as he had made his discovery, Dan felt inclined to run back to
the cabin with all speed. But this would let the Indians know that they
were discovered and probably make them hasten their plans. So instead
of running he took his time, walked completely around the shed, stopped
to pat a favourite cow on the nose, and then sauntered slowly to the
cabin.
Once inside, however, his manner changed. "Ralph, father was right, the
Comanches are on the war-path!" he exclaimed. "Bar up the windows, and
I'll look to it that every gun and pistol in the house is ready for
use."
"Then you saw more of them?"
"Yes, two down by the hollow."
"Do they know that you saw them?"
"I hardly think so." Dan began to look over the stock of pistols,
several in number, including a "hoss" nearly two feet long. "I wish
father was back," he added, anxiously.
"Shall I fire a signal?"
"Not yet, for it may only make the Comanches hurry up. But you can
watch for father from the doorway, and if you see him, beckon him to
run for it," concluded the elder brother.
CHAPTER IV.
SOMETHING ABOUT THE INDIANS IN TEXAS.
While the two boys are waiting for their father's return, and wondering
what will be the next movement of the Comanches surrounding the ranch
home, let us turn aside for a moment to consider the state of affairs
in Texas in this momentous year of 1835.
As said before, Texas and the territory known as Coahuila, lying on the
southern bank of the Rio Grande River, formed one of the states of the
Mexican Confederation. At the time Texas became bound to Coahuila there
was a clause in the constitution which allowed her to become a separate
state whenever she acquired the requisite size, although what the
requisite size must be was not specified.
The Texans were satisfied, at that time, to belong to the Mexican
Confederation, but they soon discovered that to be tied fast to
Coahuila was going to become very burdensome. The latter-named
territory was inhabited almost entirely by Mexicans who had nothing in
common with the Americans, and these Mexicans kept the capital city of
the state at Monclova or Saltillo, so that the settlers in Texas had to
journey five hundred miles or more by wagon roads for every legal
purpose. Besides this, the judiciary was entirely in the hands of the
inhabitants of Coahuila, and they passed laws very largely to suit
themselves.
The first troubles came over the land grants. A number of men, headed
by Stephen Austin, had come into Texas, bringing with them hundreds of
settlers to occupy grants given to these leaders, who were known as
_empresarios_, or contractors. Each settler's grant had to be recorded,
and the settlers grumbled at journeying so far to get clear deeds to
their possessions. At the same time, Mexico herself was in a state of
revolution, and often one so-called government would not recognise the
grant made by the government just overthrown.
The next trouble was with the Indians. The Comanches, Apaches,
Shawnees, Wacos, Lipans, and separated tribes of Cherokees, Delawares,
and Choctaws, some driven from the United States by the pioneers there,
overran the northern and central portions of Texas, and those on the
frontier, like Mr. Amos Radbury, were never safe from molestation. The
Mexican government had promised the settlers protection, but the
protection amounted to but little, and at one time only ninety soldiers
were out to guard a frontier extending hundreds of miles, and where the
different tribes of the enemy numbered ten to twenty thousand. The only
thing which saved the settlers from total annihilation at this time was
the friendliness of some of the Indians and the fact that the red men
carried on a continual warfare among themselves.
Some of the Indian fights had been notable. One of the worst of them
was an encounter between a band of over a hundred and about a dozen
whites under the leadership of James Bowie, better known as Jim Bowie,
of bowie-knife fame,--this knife having become famous in border
warfare. In this struggle the whites were surrounded, and kept the
Indians at bay for eight days, killing twenty odd of the enemy,
including a notable chief. The loss to the whites was one killed and
two wounded.
This fight had occurred some years before the opening of this tale,
but, only a month previous to the events now being related, another
encounter had come off, on Sandy Creek, but a few miles from the
Radbury home. A party of French and Mexican traders, thirteen in
number, had gone up to the house of one John Castleman, and during the
night the Indians came up, murdered nearly all of the number, and made
off with the traders' packs. Castleman hastened to Gonzales with the
news, and a posse was organised to follow the red men. This resulted in
another battle, in the cedar brakes along the San Marcos, and some of
the Indians were killed. But the majority got away, taking most of the
stolen goods with them.
The mentioning of these two encounters will show with what the early
settlers of Texas had to contend while trying to raise their crops and
attend to their cattle. Often a bold settler would go forth into the
wilderness, erect his rude hut, and then never be heard from again, his
habitation being found, later on, either deserted or burnt to the
ground. And men were not the only sufferers, for women and children
were often either killed or carried off into captivity. Once two
well-known ladies were spirited away in the most mysterious fashion,
and they were not returned to their homes until both had spent several
years among the red people.
Dan and Ralph thought over many of these affairs as they set about
preparing the ranch home against any attack which might be made upon
it. Ralph especially was much agitated, for, some six months before,
several Indians had stopped at the ranch for the purpose of trading
ponies, and one of them had eyed the soft-haired boy's scalp in a
manner which had given the youth a shiver from head to foot.
"They sha'n't have my scalp," he murmured to himself. "I'll die first!"
And, young as he was, it may be believed that he meant what he said.
"Do you see anything of father?" called out Dan, as he finished
inspecting the last of the pistols.
"No."
"He ought to be coming up by this time."
"I really think we ought to fire a shot for a signal."
"We'll wait a few minutes longer."
They waited--every minute seeming like ten. It was a clear, sunshiny
day, and outside only a faint breeze stirred the trees, otherwise all
was silent. At the end of five minutes Dan stepped to the doorway.
"Father!" he called, at the top of his voice.
No answer came back, and then Ralph joined in the cry, which was
repeated several times.
"He ought to hear that," said Ralph, as the silence continued. Then his
face grew pale. "Perhaps they have killed him, Dan!"
"I heard no shot; did you?"
"No, but some of the Indians may have bows with them. I heard one of
those Indians who was here last say he didn't like the white man's
fire-bow because it made so much noise it scared all the game. If
they've got bows and arrows they could easily crawl up behind father,
and----" Ralph did not finish in words, but his brother understood what
he meant only too well. Reaching for one of the pistols, Dan ran
outside of the door, and fired it off.
Mr. Radbury had gone for the deer with his gun slung over his back, so
he could easily fire a return signal if he wished. Eagerly the brothers
listened, but the exasperating silence continued.
Then, as Dan reloaded, Ralph fired a second shot.
"Something is wrong," said the older brother, after several more
minutes had gone by. "If father was coming with the deer he would be in
sight sure. Either the Indians have surrounded him or killed him, or
else they have got between him and the house so that he can't get in.
I'm going up to the loft with the spy-glass and take a squint around."
Glass in hand, Dan ran up the rude ladder to the loft, which was some
six feet high at the ridge-pole and two feet high at the edge of the
sloping sides. There were windows on all four sides, but those at the
slopes were small and only intended for observation holes.
Ralph had closed all of the shutters, so the loft was almost dark. With
caution Dan opened one shutter after another and swept the woods and
country around with the glass.
He could not see the hollow, but at the crest of the hill by the cattle
shed he made out the heads of several Indians gathered back of some
bushes and talking earnestly. Presently the Indians, separated, and two
of the number walked off in the direction of the river, on the opposite
side of the ranch home.
"They are up to something," reasoned the boy, and took up a position on
the other side of the loft. From this point he could see a small
portion of the river as it wound in and out among the trees and brush.
He waited impatiently for the Indians to reappear, and at last saw them
cross a glade close to where he and his brother had met the half-breed.
As the Indians came out into the open, Hank Stiger met them.
"He will join them now if he wasn't with them before," thought Dan, and
in this he was right. The Indians and Stiger held a short talk, and
then all three disappeared in the belt of timber surrounding the burn.
"Can you see anything?" called up Ralph.
"Yes, several Indians, and Stiger has joined them."
"Stiger! And what of father?"
"I see nothing of him. Ralph, I am afraid we are in for it this time,
and no mistake."
"You think the Indians really intend to attack us?"
"I do."
"Right away?"
"No, they will probably wait until it grows dark, especially now, after
they have seen us barring the windows."
"Then I had better be ready to bar up the door, too."
"Yes, but keep a lookout for father. He may come in on the run, you
know."
Dan continued to use the glass, stepping from one window to another.
But the Indians had disappeared from view, and not another glimpse of a
feather or a painted face was to be seen.
Presently he found himself looking toward the burn. Back, in the timber
bordering the river, was a tall tree which reared its head a score of
feet above its fellow trees. As he turned his glass in that direction,
something unusual in the top of the tree attracted his attention.
He gazed long and earnestly at the object, and at last made out the
form of a man, who was waving some dark thing, probably his coat, to
and fro.
"It must be father!" he thought. "I'll signal in return and make sure,"
and catching up a bed sheet he stuck it out of the window for a minute
and swung it vigorously. As he did this, the party in the tree flung up
the coat and caught it, then disappeared from view. At once Dan drew in
the sheet, closed all the shutters of the loft, and went below.
CHAPTER V.
THE ATTACK ON THE RANCH.
"Well, I've just seen father and signalled to him."
"Where was he, Dan?"
"In the top of the king pine by the river. He was waving his coat to
attract my attention. I waved a bed sheet at him and then he threw his
coat up in the air and caught it, and got out of sight as soon as he
could."
"Then he was going off."
"Yes," answered Dan. For among these pioneers to throw an object from
one and then catch it meant to go away and return. "Probably he is
going away for assistance."
"I shouldn't think he would leave us alone," mused Ralph, his face
falling perceptibly.
"That makes me feel certain that the Indians don't intend to attack us
until dark. Perhaps father heard some of their powwowing, or some talk
between them and Stiger. Anyway, I am sure he is going away."
"Then we may as well close up tight."
"All but the door. But bring in all the buckets full of water first. We
may be in for a regular siege of it."
Dan's suggestion was carried out, and the older boy also made a raid on
the cattle yard and brought in one of the cows, tying her close to the
door. "Now we'll have milk and meat too, if the worst comes to the
worst," he observed. No matter what else happened he did not intend to
be starved out.
Their regular chores done, the two boys locked up below, but left the
door unbarred, and then went to the loft, taking with them their guns
and the spy-glass.
"I suppose we can count this something of a fort," remarked Ralph. "But
I don't care to play soldier--I'd rather have the Indians leave us
alone."
"So would I. But I guess I can play soldier if I have to," added Dan,
with quiet emphasis. Secretly he loved soldiering much better than life
on the ranch, but in those days he never dreamed of the adventures on
the battle-field which were still in store for him.
The afternoon wore away slowly until the sun began to set behind the
timber west of the ranch. In the meantime, the boys, having had no
dinner, grew hungry, and Ralph spent some time below in boiling a pot
of coffee and stirring and baking some ash-cakes, serving both with a
bit of broiled steak.
"It's too bad we can't have some venison," he sighed to his brother.
"But I reckon my first big game is going to get us into a whole lot of
trouble."
"I reckon the Indians were getting ready to come down on us, anyhow,"
answered Dan. "It seems they can stay quiet just so long, and then
their animal nature breaks loose for a shindy."
Dan had just returned to the loft after his repast, when he uttered a
shout.
"An Indian is coming toward the cabin, Ralph!"
"Do you know him?"
"No, but he is a Comanche."
"In war-paint?"
"I don't know if it's war-paint or not, but he is daubed full of all
the colours of the rainbow."
"It must be war-paint. Is he alone?"
"Yes, and riding a white pony. His gun is on his back, and he doesn't
look as if he was up to mischief."
"Oh, I wouldn't trust him!" cried the younger lad. "He may be up to
some of their treachery."
"But I can't stop him from coming to the cabin. I'll be on my guard,
and you must be, too," concluded Dan, and went below. With quickness he
hid away all the weapons but two pistols, one of which he stuck in his
shirt bosom and gave the other to Ralph.
"We must keep apart," said Ralph. "Then if he attacks one or the other
the free one can fire on him."
"That's good generalship," returned Dan, with a grim smile.
By this time the Indian rider was close to the dooryard, and Dan walked
outside to meet him. As soon as the youth appeared, the savage halted
his steed.
"How! How!" he said, in guttural tones, meaning "How do you do?"
"How are you?" returned Dan.
"Wolf Ear is sick--got pain here," and the red man pointed to his
stomach.
"Sick, eh? What have you been doing,--eating and drinking too much?"
"No, Wolf Ear big sick two moons past,--sick come back,--can't ride and
must lay down," groaned the savage, grating his teeth as if in intense
pain. "White boy help Wolf Ear, me lof him."
Under ordinary circumstances Dan would have been touched by this
appeal, for he knew that the Indians suffered just as many aches and
pains as did the white folks.
