"Crockett," said Travis, just before they went to sleep, "Bowie can't get that cave out of his head."
"It's t'other way," replied Crockett. "He can't get his head out of the cave, and I'll be glad, you bet, when we all get our heads out of the cave this push of Santa Anna is putting us into."
CHAPTER XVIII.
CROCKETT'S ALARM GUN.
February 24, 1836, and a splendid winter morning for a parade.
Altogether unmolested as they came, the Mexican army marched into position around the Alamo fort. Not a shot was fired at them. Not a man of the garrison was in sight. There was a sullen air about the whole concern. Upon the church wall, indeed, Colonel Travis with a field-glass studied and estimated the assailants he was to contend with.
"No heavy guns, Davy," he said to Crockett, standing near him. "Castro was right about everything else. We shall get a message from Santa Anna pretty soon. Hullo! There he comes now. Let's go down."
"You've only jest one thing to do," replied Crockett, dryly, at the head of the stairs they were to go down by.
"What's that?" said Travis, getting ready for a joke. "Out with it."