"We might draw cuts for a man to get away with it," suggested Travis, "but he'd have no chance. I don't see what we can do. You and I are sure to go down."
Castro and Red Wolf were standing by their ponies in the plaza. They were not members of the garrison. They were not white citizens of Texas. There was no reason why they should remain to meet the last onset of Santa Anna's army. Each of them had done all that he could for his personal friendships.
"Ugh!" said Castro. "No want more shake hand. Come. Go talk Bravo. Tell Mexican heap. Great chief lose friend. Ugh!"
The gate had been opened for them and they mounted at once, but as they were passing through the portal Red Wolf turned and took a swift, earnest survey of the interior of the fort. It was all quiet, all peaceful. The cannon watched silently at their embrasures. The rangers walked hither and thither unconcernedly. The church front wore a calm and placid look. The sun was shining brightly. The one dark spot full of evil omen was the heap of rubbish in the breach of the wall.
"Ugh!" said Red Wolf, mournfully. "Big Knife fight a heap. Great chief!"
More than one demand for surrender had been sent in and had been rejected. During several days, however, any other communication with the fort had been strictly forbidden. The Mexican general, nevertheless, had not been unwilling to permit the visit of Castro, and when the chief returned now, he speedily found himself in front of Santa Anna's marquee.
"Heap boy in fort," he replied to a question from General Sesma. "Great chief go get him. Red Wolf no Texan. Good!"
There was no apparent importance in the presence or absence of one unarmed young Indian, and Santa Anna hardly looked at him while he questioned his father closely concerning the aspect of affairs in the fort. There was no use to the garrison to be gained by Castro's concealment of anything that a telescope in the camp could discover, but the Mexican commander exhibited a deep interest in the exact character and dimensions of the hole his artillery had made in the wall.
"Caramba!" exclaimed Castrillon. "I'll pitch a few more shot into it in the morning. How many of the rebels have we killed?"
"Texan feel good!" replied Castro. "Big gun no hurt him."