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They
had
come
warned
of
their
work
,
and
only
waited
for
Woodley
Poindexter
--
on
this
occasion
their
chief
--
to
give
the
signal
for
setting
forth
.
He
only
waited
in
the
hope
of
procuring
a
guide
;
one
who
could
conduct
them
to
the
Alamo
--
who
could
take
them
to
the
domicile
of
Maurice
the
mustanger
.
There
was
no
such
person
present
.
Planters
,
merchants
,
shopkeepers
,
lawyers
,
hunters
,
horse
and
slave-dealers
,
were
all
alike
ignorant
of
the
Alamo
.
There
was
but
one
man
belonging
to
the
settlement
supposed
to
be
capable
of
performing
the
required
service
--
old
Zeb
Stump
.
But
Zeb
could
not
be
found
.
He
was
absent
on
one
of
his
stalking
expeditions
;
and
the
messengers
sent
to
summon
him
were
returning
,
one
after
another
,
to
announce
a
bootless
errand
.
There
was
a
woman
,
in
the
hacienda
itself
,
who
could
have
guided
the
searchers
upon
their
track
--
to
the
very
hearthstone
of
the
supposed
assassin
.
Woodley
Poindexter
knew
it
not
;
and
perhaps
well
for
him
it
was
so
.
Had
the
proud
planter
suspected
that
in
the
person
of
his
own
child
,
there
was
a
guide
who
could
have
conducted
kim
to
the
lone
hut
on
the
Alamo
,
his
sorrow
for
a
lost
son
would
have
been
stifled
by
anguish
for
an
erring
daughter
.
The
last
messenger
sent
in
search
of
Stump
came
back
to
the
hacienda
without
him
.
The
thirst
for
vengeance
could
be
no
longer
stayed
,
and
the
avengers
went
forth
.
*
*
*
They
were
scarce
out
of
sight
of
Casa
del
Corvo
,
when
the
two
individuals
,
who
could
have
done
them
such
signal
service
,
became
engaged
in
conversation
within
the
walls
of
the
hacienda
itself
.
There
was
nothing
clandestine
in
the
meeting
,
nothing
designed
.
It
was
a
simple
contingency
,
Zeb
Stump
having
just
come
in
from
his
stalking
excursion
,
bringing
to
the
hacienda
a
portion
of
the
"
plunder
"
--
as
he
was
wont
to
term
it
--
procured
by
his
unerring
rifle
.
