THE FIRST SHOT.
Four days went by. All the space inside the walls of the fort had a clean and tidy look. The soldiers of the garrison went hither and thither with an air of being under more than usual drill, but their varied uniforms were about the same as ever. A light rain was falling and the skies overhead were heavy with clouds, as if a storm were coming.
A shout was heard outside the gate, and then its massive oaken portal swung wide open, while Colonel Travis stood by the six-pounder, his handsome face bright with expectation.
"Boys!" he shouted, "the supplies have come!"
Nearing the gate-way was a train of large wagons, and on either side and in the rear of them rode mounted riflemen.
"Reinforcements, too!" exclaimed Crockett, as he strode forward to the side of Travis.
Colonel Bowie was already out beyond the wall, scrutinizing the approaching train and its guard.
"Not a quarter as many men as we needed," he remarked, in a low, foreboding tone. "I hope there are more coming."
On rolled the wagons, while cheer after cheer went up from the garrison, to be answered as heartily by the new arrivals.
"Keep right on," shouted Travis to the drivers. "Halt in front of the church."