The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- To 1846 -- Fiction; Western stories
Although the sun had risen for some time, and was pouring its dazzling
beams over the prairie, Blue-fox's departure was managed with such
circumspection that he was far out on the plain, while his comrades
fancied him close to them; not a blade of grass had been agitated in his
passage, or a pebble slipped under his feet.
From time to time Blue-fox stopped, took a peering glance around, and
then, when he felt assured that all was quiet, and nothing had revealed
his position, he began crawling again on his hands and knees in the
direction of the forest covert, from which he was now but a short
distance.
He then reached a spot entirely devoid of trees, where the grass,
lightly trodden down at various spots, led him to suppose he was
reaching the place where the men who fired must have been ambushed.
The Indian stopped, in order to investigate more closely the trail he
had discovered.
It apparently belonged to only one man; it was clumsy, wide, and made
without caution, and rather the footsteps of a white man ignorant of the
customs of the prairie, than of a hunter or Indian.
The bushes were broken as if the person who passed through them had done
so by force, running along without taking the trouble to part the
brambles; while at several spots the trampled earth was soaked with
blood.
Blue-fox could not at all understand this strange trail, which in no way
resembled those he was accustomed to follow.
Was it a feint employed by his enemies to deceive him more easily by
letting him see a clumsy trail intended to conceal the real one? Or was
it, on the other hand, the trail of a white man wandering about the
desert, of whose habits he was ignorant?
The Indian knew not what opinion to adhere to, and his perplexity was
great. To him it was evident that from this spot the shot was fired
which saluted him at the moment when he was about to begin his speech;
but for what object had the man, whoever he was, that had chosen this
ambush, left such manifest traces of his passage? He must surely have
supposed that his aggression would not remain unpunished, and that the
persons he selected as a target would immediately start in pursuit of
him.
At length, after trying for a long time to solve this problem, and
racking his brains in vain to arrive at a probable conclusion, Blue-fox
adhered to his first one, that this trail was fictitious, and merely
intended to conceal the true one.
The great fault of cunning persons is to suppose that all men are like
themselves, and only employ cunning; hence they frequently deceive
themselves, and the frankness of the means employed by their opponent
completely defeats them, and makes them lose a game which they had every
chance of winning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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