The party of searchers, under the command of the major, was not the only
one that went forth from Fort Inge on that eventful morning.
Nor was it the earliest to take saddle. Long before--in fact close
following the dawn of day--a much smaller party, consisting of only four
horsemen, was seen setting out from the suburbs of the village, and
heading their horses in the direction of the Nueces.
These could not be going in search of the dead body of Henry Poindexter.
At that hour no one suspected that the young man was dead, or even that
he was missing. The riderless horse had not yet come in to tell the
tale of woe. The settlement was still slumbering, unconscious that
innocent blood had been spilt.
Though setting out from nearly the same point, and proceeding in a like
direction, there was not the slightest similarity between the two
parties of mounted men. Those earliest a-start were all of pure Iberian
blood; or this commingled with Aztecan. In other words they were
Mexicans.
It required neither skill nor close scrutiny to discover this. A glance
at themselves and their horses, their style of equitation, the slight
muscular development of their thighs and hips--more strikingly
observable in their deep-tree saddles--the gaily coloured serapes
shrouding their shoulders, the wide velveteen calzoneros on their legs,
the big spurs on their boots, and broad-brimmed sombreros on their
heads, declared them either Mexicans, or men who had adopted the Mexican
costume.
That they were the former there was not a question. The sallow hue; the
pointed Vandyke beard, covering the chin, sparsely--though not from any
thinning by the shears--the black, close-cropped _chevelure_; the
regular facial outline, were all indisputable characteristics of the
Hispano-Moro-Aztecan race, who now occupy the ancient territory of the
Moctezumas.
One of the four was a man of larger frame than any of his companions.
He rode a better horse; was more richly apparelled; carried upon his
person arms and equipments of a superior finish; and was otherwise
distinguished, so as to leave no doubt about his being the leader of the
_cuartilla_.
He was a man of between thirty and forty years of age, nearer to the
latter than the former; though a smooth, rounded cheek--furnished with a
short and carefully trimmed whisker--gave him the appearance of being
younger than he was.
But for a cold animal eye, and a heaviness of feature that betrayed a
tendency to behave with brutality--if not with positive cruelty--the
individual in question might have been described as handsome.
A well formed mouth, with twin rows of white teeth between the lips,
even when these were exhibited in a smile, did not remove this
unpleasant impression. It but reminded the beholder of the sardonic
grin that may have been given by Satan, when, after the temptation had
succeeded, he gazed contemptuously back upon the mother of mankind.
It was not his looks that had led to his having become known among his
comrades by a peculiar nick-name; that of an animal well known upon the
plains of Texas.
His deeds and disposition had earned for him the unenviable soubriquet
"El Coyote."
How came he to be crossing the prairie at this early hour of the
morning--apparently sober, and acting as the leader of others--when on
the same morning, but a few hours before, he was seen drunk in his
jacale--so drunk as to be unconscious of having a visitor, or, at all
events, incapable of giving that visitor a civil reception?
The change of situation though sudden--and to some extent strange--is
not so difficult of explanation. It will be understood after an account
has been given of his movements, from the time of Calhoun's leaving him,
till the moment of meeting him in the saddle, in company with his three
_conpaisanos_.
On riding away from his hut, Calhoun had left the door, as he had found
it, ajar; and in this way did it remain until the morning--El Coyote all
the time continuing his sonorous slumber.
At daybreak he was aroused by the raw air that came drifting over him in
the shape of a chilly fog. This to some extent sobered him; and,
springing up from his skin-covered truck, he commenced staggering over
the floor--all the while uttering anathemas against the cold, and the
door for letting it in.
It might be expected that he would have shut to the latter on the
instant; but he did not. It was the only aperture, excepting some holes
arising from dilapidation, by which light was admitted into the interior
of the jacale; and light he wanted, to enable him to carry out the
design that had summoned him to his feet.
The grey dawn, just commencing to creep in through the open doorway,
scarce sufficed for his purpose; and it was only after a good while
spent in groping about, interspersed with a series of stumblings, and
accompanied by a string of profane exclamations, that he succeeded in
finding that he was searching for: a large two-headed gourd, with a
strap around its middle, used as a canteen for carrying water, or more
frequently _mezcal_.
The odour escaping from its uncorked end told that it had recently
contained this potent spirit; but that it was now empty, was announced
by another profane ejaculation that came from the lips of its owner, as
he made the discovery.
"_Sangre de Cristo_!" he cried, in an accent of angry disappointment,
giving the gourd a shake to assure himself of its emptiness. "Not a
drop--not enough to drown a chiga! And my tongue sticking to my teeth.
My throat feels as if I had bolted a _brazero_ of red-hot charcoal. Por
Dios! I can't stand it. What's to be done? Daylight? It is. I must
up to the _pueblita_. It's possible that Senor Doffer may have his trap
open by this time to catch the early birds. If so, he'll find a
customer in the Coyote. Ha, ha, ha!"
Slinging the gourd strap around his neck, and thrusting his head through
the slit of his serape, he set forth for the village.
The tavern was but a few hundred yards from his hut, on the same side of
the river, and approachable by a path, that he could have travelled with
his eyes under "tapojos." In twenty minutes after, he was staggering
past the sign-post of the "Rough and Ready."
He chanced to be in luck. Oberdoffer was in his bar-room, serving some
early customers--a party of soldiers who had stolen out of quarters to
swallow their morning dram.
"Mein Gott, Mishter Dees!" said the landlord, saluting the newly arrived
guest, and without ceremony forsaking six _credit_ customers, for one
that he knew to be _cash_. "Mein Gott! is it you I sees so early
ashtir? I knowsh vat you vant. You vant your pig coord fill mit ze
Mexican spirits--ag--ag--vat you call it?"
"_Aguardiente_! You've guessed it, cavallero. That's just what I
want."
"A tollar--von tollar ish the price."
"_Carrambo_! I've paid it often enough to know that. Here's the coin,
and there's the canteen. Fill, and be quick about it!"
"Ha! you ish in a hurry, mein herr. Fel--I von't keeps you waitin'; I
suppose you ish off for the wild horsh prairish. If there's anything
goot among the droves, I'm afeart that the Irishmans will pick it up
before you. He went off lasht night. He left my housh at a late hour--
after midnight it wash--a very late hour, to go a shourney! But he's a
queer cushtomer is that mushtanger, Mister Maurish Sherralt. Nobody
knows his ways. I shouldn't say anythings againsht him. He hash been a
goot cushtomer to me. He has paid his bill like a rich man, and he hash
plenty peside. Mein Gott! his pockets wash cramm mit tollars!"
On hearing that the Irishman had gone off to the "horsh prairish," as
Oberdoffer termed them, the Mexican by his demeanour betrayed more than
an ordinary interest in the announcement.
It was proclaimed, first by a slight start of surprise, and then by an
impatience of manner that continued to mark his movements, while
listening to the long rigmarole that followed.
It was clear that he did not desire anything of this to be observed.
Instead of questioning his informant upon the subject thus started, or
voluntarily displaying any interest in it, he rejoined in a careless
drawl--
"It don't concern me, cavallero. There are plenty of _mustenos_ on the
plains--enough to give employment to all the horse-catchers in Texas.
Look alive, senor, and let's have the aguardiente!"
A little chagrined at being thus rudely checked in his attempt at a
gossip, the German Boniface hastily filled the gourd canteen; and,
without essaying farther speech, handed it across the counter, took the
dollar in exchange, chucked the coin into his till, and then moved back
to his military customers, more amiable because drinking _upon the
score_.
Diaz, notwithstanding the eagerness he had lately exhibited to obtain
the liquor, walked out of the bar-room, and away from the hotel, without
taking the stopper from his canteen, or even appearing to think of it!
His excited air was no longer that of a man merely longing for a glass
of ardent spirits. There was something stronger stirring within, that
for the time rendered him oblivious of the appetite.
Whatever it may have been it did not drive him direct to his home: for
not until he had paid a visit to three other hovels somewhat similar to
his own--all situated in the suburbs of the _pueblita_, and inhabited by
men like himself--not till then, did he return to his jacale.
It was on getting back, that he noticed for the first time the tracks of
a shod horse; and saw where the animal had been tied to a tree that
stood near the hut.
"_Carrambo_!" he exclaimed, on perceiving this sign, "_the Capitan
Americano_ has been here in the night. Por Dios! I remember
something--I thought I had dreamt it. I can guess his errand. He has
heard of Don Mauricio's departure. Perhaps he'll repeat his visit, when
he thinks I'm in a proper state to receive him? Ha! ha! It don't
matter now. The thing's all understood; and I sha'n't need any further
instructions from him, till I've earned his thousand dollars. _Mil
pesos_! What a splendid fortune! Once gained, I shall go back to the
Rio Grande, and see what can be done with Isidora."
After delivering the above soliloquy, he remained at his hut only long
enough to swallow a few mouthfuls of roasted _tasajo_, washing them down
with as many gulps of mezcal. Then having caught and caparisoned his
horse, buckled on his huge heavy spurs, strapped his short carbine to
the saddle, thrust a pair of pistols into their holsters, and belted the
leathern sheathed machete on his hip, he sprang into the stirrups, and
rode rapidly away.
The short interval that elapsed, before making his appearance on the
open plain, was spent in the suburbs of the village--waiting for the
three horsemen who accompanied him, and who had been forewarned of their
being wanted to act as his coadjutors, in some secret exploit that
required their assistance.
Whatever it was, his trio of _confreres_ appeared to have been made
acquainted with the scheme; or at all events that the scene of the
exploit was to be on the Alamo. When a short distance out upon the
plain, seeing Diaz strike off in a diagonal direction, they called out
to warn him, that he was not going the right way.
"I know the Alamo well," said one of them, himself a mustanger. "I've
hunted horses there many a time. It's southwest from here. The nearest
way to it is through an opening in the chapparal you see out yonder.
You are heading too much to the west, Don Miguel!"
"Indeed!" contemptuously retorted the leader of the cuartilla. "You're
a _gringo_, Senor Vicente Barajo! You forget the errand we're upon; and
that we are riding shod horses? Indians don't go out from Port Inge and
then direct to the Alamo to do--no matter what. I suppose you
understand me?"
"Oh true!" answered Senor Vicente Barajo, "I beg your pardon, Don
Miguel. _Carrambo_! I did not think of that."
And without further protest, the three coadjutors of El Coyote fell into
his tracks, and followed him in silence--scarce another word passing
between him and them, till they had struck the chapparal, at a point
several miles above the opening of which Barajo had made mention.
Once under cover of the thicket, the four men dismounted; and, after
tying their horses to the trees, commenced a performance that could only
be compared to a scene in the gentlemen's dressing-room of a suburban
theatre, preliminary to the representation of some savage and sanguinary
drama.