"Not like Americans? Would you let the enemy escape, then, when we
have him in our power?"
"Calkilate I would. Calkilate we should do ourselves more harm than
him by shooting down his people. That was a considerable sensible
commandment of yourn, always to shoot the foremost of the Mexicans
when they attacked. It discouraged the bold ones, and was a sort of
premium on cowardice. Them as lagged behind escaped, them as came
bravely on were shot. It was a good calkilation. If we had shot 'em
without discrimination, the cowards would have got bold, seein' that
they weren't safer in rear than in front. The cowards are our best
friends. Now them runaways," continued he, pointing to the Mexicans,
who were crowding over the river, "are jest the most cowardly of 'em
all, for in their fright they quite forgot the ford, and it's because
they ran so far beyond it, that they are last to cross the water. And
if you fire at 'em now, they'll find that they get nothin' by bein'
cowards, and next time, I reckon, they'll sell their hides as dear as
they can."
Untimely as this palaver, to use a popular word, undoubtedly was, we
could scarcely forbear smiling at the simple _naïve_ manner in which
the old Yankee spoke his mind.
"Calkilate, captings," he concluded, "you'd better let the poor devils
run. We shall get more profit by it than if we shot five hundred of
'em. Next time they'll run away directly to show their gratitude for
our ginerosity."
The man stepped back into the ranks, and his comrades nodded
approvingly, and calculated and reckoned that Zebediah had spoke a
true word; and meanwhile the enemy had crossed the river, and was out
of our reach. We were forced to content ourselves with sending a party
across the water to follow up the Mexicans, and observe the direction
they took. We then returned to our old position.
My first thought on arriving there was to search for the body of Bob
Rock--for he it undoubtedly was, who had so mysteriously appeared
amongst us. I repaired to the spot where I had seen him fall; but
could discover no signs of him, either dead or alive. I went over the
whole scene of the fight, searched amongst the vines and along the
bank of the river; there were plenty of dead Mexicans--cavalry,
infantry, and artillery, but no Bob was to be found, nor could any one
inform me what had become of him, although several had seen him fall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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