Part 35 (1/2)

”Come, let us see what that means,” cried the Mexican officer, and ran from the little room, followed by his companions.

Dan felt relieved for the moment, yet he knew only too well that those Mexicans, or others, would soon be coming to give the place a thorough overhauling.

”They will kill us----” he began, when, on turning, his foot struck an iron ring in the flooring of the niche. He felt of the ring and soon became convinced that it was attached to a trap-door of some kind.

”If it's a trap-door it must lead to a cellar!” said Stover, hurriedly.

”I hope to heaven it does. Try it, lad, an' be quick!”

Both crawled from the narrow opening, and Dan pulled upon the ring with all of his strength. Up came a trap-door about two feet square. Beneath this was a s.p.a.ce of inky darkness.

”Don't mind the dark,” went on the old frontiersman. ”Let me go fust, and be sure an' shet the trap after ye!”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”HE BEGAN TO LOWER HIMSELF INTO THE HOLE.”]

He began to lower himself into the hole, and his feet struck a flight of stone steps. Down this he sped and soon reached a narrow pa.s.sageway lined with rough stone, from which the moisture oozed into pools at his feet.

”I'll try to put them off the scent,” said Dan, and drew up one of the boxes in such a fas.h.i.+on that, when the trap fell into place, the box came down on top of it. Then he hastened to join Stover.

”I don't believe any of our soldiers knew of this secret pa.s.sage,” said Stover. ”I wonder where it runs to?”

”Perhaps it doesn't run to anywhere,” replied Dan. ”Go slow, or you may dash your brains out on the rough wall.”

They moved along cautiously. The pa.s.sageway was not over six feet in height and from three to four feet wide. It was uneven, but soon they found themselves going downward and away from the church and convent, as they learned by the m.u.f.fled noises overhead.

”This is some secret pa.s.sage put in by the friars, years ago,” was Stover's comment, after several hundred feet had been pa.s.sed. ”Like as not they built it to escape in case the Injuns attacked 'em.”

”Well, if they did, it must lead to some place of safety,” answered Dan. ”I sincerely hope it does.”

Stover was still suffering great pain, and he had lost so much blood that he could scarcely walk.

”I must rest and try to bind up that wound,” he panted, and sank in a dead faint at Dan's feet.

Dan could do nothing in the darkness, and now he resolved to risk a light, and lit the stump of a candle which he usually carried with him when on a hunting expedition. By these feeble rays he bound up the wound as well as he was able and also attended to his own hurt. Then, as Stover gave a long sigh and opened his eyes, he blew out the light.

”Don't make a light ag'in,” were the frontiersman's first words. ”It may cost us our lives. We will keep still and lay low,” and then he became partly unconscious again.

The hours which followed were like some horrible nightmare to Dan, whose nerves had been wrought up to the top notch of excitement by the scenes in the courtyard and the church. From a distance he heard calls and groans and an occasional shot. The Alamo had fallen and now Santa Anna was himself upon the scene, to make certain that not one of the Texans should escape. ”I told them what to expect,” he is reported to have said, and then, when five men were brought before him, and his own officer, General Castrillon, interceded for the Texans, he gave Castrillon a lecture for his soft-heartedness, and the prisoners were speedily put to the bayonet. Such was Santa Anna, now high in power, but who was destined in time to be shorn of all rank and to die in bitter obscurity. His last act of atrocity at the Alamo was to have the bodies of his victims piled up with layers of brushwood and burned.

The hours pa.s.sed, how slowly or swiftly neither Dan nor Poke Stover knew. No one came to disturb them, and at length the boy sank into a doze due to his exhausted condition.

When he awoke he found the frontiersman also aroused. ”I hope the sleep did ye good, Dan,” he said.

”Was I asleep? I did not know it. How long have we been here?”

”I can't say.”

”Have you heard anything more of the Mexicans?”

”Only a faint sound or two, comin' from behind. I reckon we had best push on and see whar this pa.s.sage leads to.”

They arose, to find their legs stiff from the dampness of the pa.s.sageway. At least three hundred yards were pa.s.sed, and still there seemed to be no end.