Neal Russell was out with two other cowpunchers on the Nueces River.
They had extra mounts and a pack outfit and were well supplied. One day
while they were hunting cattle they came up on two very old Mexicans.
The Mexicans looked scared and acted peculiarly, but they were so old
and worn and thin that Russell paid little attention to their secret
manner. Finding that they were out of something to eat, he told them
where camp was and invited them up for a fill and a rest.
Well, after Russell and his men had come in and waited around a while,
the Mexicans appeared. They ate and then, evidently feeling at ease
with the Texans, who were talking Mexican like natives, they asked if
anyone knew where the old San Antonio and Laredo crossing was.
“Why, yes,” replied Russell, “it is not two hundred yards from here,
right down the river. I’ll show it to you in the morning.”
The Mexicans now seemed to think that they had as well take the Texans
into confidence, and what seemed the older of the two made this
explanation. “I was through this country the last time in 1836. I was
with a small detachment of the Mexican army taking a load of money to
San Antonio to pay off General Cos’s men. We had gotten a day’s ride
north of here when we heard by courier of Santa Anna’s defeat. We knew
that it was foolish to go on and so turned back, expecting at any hour
to hear the Texans coming up on us. Just before we reached the east
side of the Nueces, the front axle of our wagon broke square in two.
There wasn’t anything to do but to cut a tree down and from a post hew
into shape another axle. We managed to pull out of the road a little
way, and set to work.
“As I told you, we were expecting the Texans at any time. As a
precaution against their coming we dug a hole right beside the wagon.
Then we went off a way and cut two posts, in case one turned out bad.
After we had got them back to the wagon and were at work, we all at
once heard a galloping as if a whole troop of cavalry was coming down
the hills. Pronto, pronto (quickly, quickly), we threw the new logs
into the pit we had dug, spread a few skins down, piled the load of
coin into them, covered the pit up, turned the wagon upside down over
the fresh dirt, and set fire to it. It blazed up; we mounted our horses
and rode westward. I don’t know whether what we heard was Texas cavalry
or not. I am inclined to think now that it must have been a herd of
mustangs. Anyway, we left confident that signs of our digging would be
wiped out by the fire and that the Texans would think we had burned our
baggage to keep it from falling into their hands.
“So far as I know, I am the only survivor of that escort of Mexicans. I
know that no Mexican has ever been back to get the money. I am come now
with my old compadre to get it. You see how we are. We started out
poorly prepared. Now we are afoot and without provisions. If you will
help us, we will share with you.”
The next morning, according to Russell, all five of the men started out
with the camp ax and spade. They went to the old crossing, then out a
few rods down the river. The old Mexican led them to a row of three
little mounds—the knolls common in that country along the river valley.
Beyond those three knolls was a stump, and beyond the stump was another
knoll.
“That is the place,” whispered the ancient Mexican. He was so eager
that he was panting for every word.
The white men rode on slowly, for the Mexicans were on foot and the
older was walking in a kind of stumble. When they got fairly around the
mound, they saw a pile of fresh dirt. Pitched across it were two old
logs. Mesquite lasts a long time, you know, when it is under ground.
The men looked down into the hole. It was not very deep and apparently
it had not been dug a week. The prints of the coins were yet plain on
some of the dirt, and a few tags of rotted skins were about.
Russell said that the Mexicans did not say anything. They were a week
too late. When he last saw them they were tottering back to Mexico with
what provisions the cowboys could spare.