The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan War — John Shaqi
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
The Captain, in his exasperation, raised the switch he carried in his
hand; but, at the same moment, the Indian, with a panther-leap, bounded
on to his horse's croup, dragged the Captain out of his stirrups, and
rudely hurled him to the ground.
"The Palefaces are cowardly old women," he said; "the Pawnee warriors
despise them, and will send them petticoats."
After uttering these words with a sarcastic accent impossible to
describe, the Indian bent over the horse's neck, let loose the rein,
uttered a fierce yell, and started at full speed, not troubling himself
further about the Captain, whom he left severely bruised by his fall.
James Watt was not the man to endure such treatment without trying to
revenge himself; he got up as quickly as he could, and shouted, in order
to get together the hunters and wood-cutters scattered over the plain.
Some of them had seen what had happened, and started at full speed to
help their Captain; but before they reached him, and he could give them
his orders to pursue the fugitive, the latter had disappeared in the
heart of the forest, toward which he had directed his rapid course.
The hunters, however, at the head of them being Sergeant Bothrel, rushed
in pursuit of the Indian, swearing they would bring him in either dead
or alive.
The Captain looked after them till he saw them disappear one after the
other in the forest, and then returned slowly to the colony, reflecting
on what had taken place between himself and the Redskin, and his heart
contracted by a gloomy presentiment.
Something whispered to him that, for Monkey-face, generally so prudent
and circumspect, to have acted as he had done, he must have fancied
himself very strong, and quite certain of impunity.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE DECLARATION OF WAR.
There is an incomprehensible fact, which we were many times in a
position to appreciate, during the adventurous course of our lengthened
wanderings in America--that a man will at times feel the approach of a
misfortune, though unable to account for the feeling he suffers from; he
knows that he is menaced, though unable to tell when the peril will
come, or in what way it will arrive; the day seems to grow more gloomy,
the sunbeams lose their brilliancy, external objects assume a mournful
appearance; there are strange murmurs in the air; all, in a word, seems
to feel the impression of a vague and undefined restlessness.
Though nothing occurred to justify the Captain's fears after his
altercation with the Pawnee, not only he, but the whole population of
the colony felt under the weight of dull terror on the evening of this
day.
At six o'clock, as usual, the bell was rung to recall the wood-cutters
and herds; all had returned, the beasts were shut up in their respective
stalls, and, apparently, at any rate nothing out of the common troubled
the calm existence of the colonists.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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