There were one hundred and eighty-seven persons within the walls of the fort that night. Six of these were non-combatants, including two American women, a Mexican woman, a negro slave, and two young children.
The keepers of the secret of the cavern of Huitzilopochtli held their conference. After it was concluded they selected, with careful deliberation, a number of trustworthy men, to whom, under oath, they communicated the precious information. If any or all of them should survive, a full report was to be in like manner made to President Houston and other Texan patriots who were named.
"That's all we can do," remarked Bowie, after his precautions had been taken. "I don't want that expedition to die with me. If any of these fellows are killed early in the fight, we must put in others in their places."
"All right," replied Crockett. "The Montezumas have stuck to that stuff long enough. But, 'cordin' to Castro, we've been and gone and put a death-warrant on every one of those men. I was thinking 'bout that."
"You'd think!" exclaimed Bowie, "if you'd seen what I did. Do you know, there was the queerest kind of roar coming up out of that chasm. I don't wonder the blood-thirsty heathen were superstitious about it."
"I'd like to hear it some day," said Crockett. "But thar's a kind of ringing in my ears, anyhow. Perhaps it's from hearing so much cannon music."
In the cavern of Huitzilopochtli that night, the treasure-chamber of the Montezumas, the voice from the lower deep was calling more loudly than usual.
"The gods are disturbed," grumbled the old men before the altar. "We have nothing to give them. They grow angry. What shall we do for the hunger of the gods?"
Louder, at intervals, then seeming to die away and begin again, arose the mysterious reverberation, while the old devotees paused from their chanting to turn and glare into each other's ferocious faces.
It was only a mute inquiry. If no other supply should be provided, to which of them would belong the next voluntary plunge into the gulf?