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
It was impossible to make the Sachem understand the real state of the
case; with that blind obstinacy characteristic of his race, he would
listen to nothing; the more they tried to prove to him that he was
wrong, the more convinced he felt he was right.
At a late hour of the night the Canadian and Black-deer withdrew,
accompanied, as far as the entrenchments, by the Captain.
So soon as they had gone, James Watt returned thoughtfully to the tower;
on the threshold he stumbled against a rather large object, and stooped
down to see what it was.
"Oh!" he exclaimed as he rose again, "then they really mean fighting! By
Heaven! They shall have it to their heart's content!"
The object against which the Captain had stumbled was a bundle of arrows
fastened by a serpent skin; the two ends of this skin and the points of
the arrows were blood stained.
Black-deer, on retiring, had let the declaration of war fall behind him.
All hope of peace had vanished, and preparation for fighting must be
made.
After the first moment of stupor the Captain regained his coolness; and
although day had not yet broken, he aroused the colonists and assembled
them in front of the town, to hold a council and consult as to the means
for neutralizing the peril that menaced them.
CHAPTER IX.
THE SNAKE PAWNEES.
We will now clear up a few points in this story which may appear obscure
to the reader.
The Redskins, however great their other faults may be, have a fanatic
love for the country where they are born, and nothing can take its
place.
Monkey-face did not speak falsely when he told Captain Watt that he was
one of the principal Chiefs of his tribe; but he had been careful not to
reveal for what reason he had been expelled from his tribe.
This reason the time has now arrived for us to make known.
Monkey-face was not only a man of unbridled ambition, but also, an
extraordinary thing for an Indian, he had no religious faith, and was
completely exempt from those weaknesses and that superstitious credulity
to which his fellows are so amenable: in addition, he was faithless,
dishonourable, and of more than depraved manners.
Having been taken, when young, to the towns of the American Union, he
had been in a position to see closely the eccentric civilization of the
United States. Unable to comprehend the good and bad sides of this
civilization, and steer between them, he had, as generally happens in
such cases, been seduced by that which most flattered his tastes and
instincts, and had only taken from the customs of the whites whatever
completed and furnished his precocious depravity.
Hence, when he returned to his tribe, his language and manners were so
discordant with what was done and said around him, that he speedily
excited the contempt and hatred of his countrymen.
His most violent enemies were naturally the priests, or, at least, the
sorcerers, whom he had tried several times to turn into ridicule.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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