Tales of Aztlan; The Romance of a Hero of Our Late Spanish-American War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a Western Pioneer and Other TalesHartmann, George
General
Tales of Aztlan; The Romance of a Hero of Our Late Spanish-American War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a Western Pioneer and Other Tales
Hartmann, George
Short stories, American; Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Fiction; Western stories
Anna-Hannah--
Anna-Hannah--
May-Ah!--
Anna-Hannah-Sarah-Wah!
Moolow-Hoolow, Ji-Hi-Tlack!
Anna-Hannah--
May-Ah-Ha!
So it went on indefinitely.
To lay this troubled spirit I tossed him a handful of coins, with the
unfortunate result that his guttural song became, if anything, more
loud and boisterous. I had no thought of exchanging my partner, as the
Aztec maiden clung to me. With closed eyes and parted lips she moved as
in a blissful dream. I have known Christian people become frantic under
the impetus of great religious excitement and I have seen them act very
strangely, also have I seen Indians similarly affected during their
medicine-ghost dances. Now I, who had not thought it possible of
myself, had become more savage and uncontrollable than any one. I
suppose it was the irritating, monotonous sound of the war drum that
did it, jarring my nerves, and the peculiar Indian odor in the stifling
hot air of the close room, enhanced by the exhilarating sensation of
threatening danger, and that in the presence of the adored sex.
Assuredly all this was more than enough to set me off, as I am
naturally impulsive and of a high-strung nervous temperament.
I must say that considering the modest costumes of these Indian ladies
and their bashful and shrinking disposition, it does seem strange that
they should fascinate one like myself of the Saxon race. To be sure the
sight of the bared shoulders and necks of society belles when undressed
in the decollete fashion of their ball gowns ravishes and gluts our
sensuality, but a momentary glimpse of the Indian maid's brown knee
flashing by during the excitement of the fandango is just as
suggestive, and the inch of hand-made embroidery on the edge of their
short skirts is as effective as priceless lace on gowns of worth. And
the Indian fashion has this to recommend it, that it is the less
expensive of the two costumes. Ever watchful, ever on the alert, I saw
the sheen of a knife flash from its scabbard in the hazy air, and my
beautiful partner shivered and moaned in my arms. "Dog of an Indian,
dare and die," shouted I, angrily. Four times I made the circuit of the
room, and when again opposite the entrance of this man-kennel, I heard
the voice of my faithful friend, Don Reyes Alvarado, calling me
anxiously. I gave my lovely partner in charge of her tender-hearted
sisters, for the poor wild thing had fainted and lay limply in my arms.
The strong arm of my companion grasped me and drew me out into the
fresh air, where I almost collapsed, overcome.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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