The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
Red Ruperto then went off, followed by twenty borderers, who
spontaneously offered to accompany him, and soon disappeared in the
darkness. The descent John Davis was preparing to make, was anything but
easy. The American was too experienced a wood ranger not to know, and
hence took all proper precautions. He placed in his belt next his knife
a wide and strong axe, and fastened round his waist a rope formed of
several _reatas_. Three men seized the end of the rope, which they
turned round the stem of a tree, so as to let it out without a shock,
whenever the American desired it. As a final precaution, he lit a branch
of ocote wood, which was to serve as his guide during his perilous
descent, for the sky was perfectly black, which rendered the gloom so
thick that it was impossible to see anything two paces away. His last
measures taken with the coolness that distinguishes men of his race, the
North American pressed the hands held out to him, tried once again to
restore hope to his comrades by a few hearty words, and kneeling on the
brink of the abyss, began slowly descending.
John Davis was a man of tried courage, his life had been one continued
struggle, in which he had only triumphed through his strength of will
and energy; still, when he began descending into the barranca, he felt
chilled to the heart, and could not repress a slight start of terror,
which ran over all his limbs like an electric flash. Still, he fought
against this emotion, which is nothing but that instinct of
self-preservation which duty has placed in the heart of every man, the
bravest as the most cowardly, and continued his descent.
Although he was fastened round the waist, it was no easy task to go down
this almost perpendicular wall, to which he was compelled to cling like
a reptile, clutching at every tuft of grass or shrub he came across, or
else he had been carried away by the wind, which blew furiously, and
would have crushed him like a nutshell against the sides of the abyss.
The first minutes were the most terrible to the bold adventurer; the
feet and hands must grow accustomed to the rude task imposed on them,
and they only gradually learn to find, as it were instinctively, their
resting places; and this remark, which may appear erroneous to certain
persons, who, fortunately for themselves, have never been obliged to try
the experiment, will be recognized as rigorously true by all travellers
who have been compelled to ascend or descend mountains. After a few
minutes, when the mind remains at liberty, the body assumes of its own
accord the necessary equilibrium, the feet find secure resting places,
and the hands settle unhesitatingly on the grass or roots which offer
them the indispensable degree of resistance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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