The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena VistaAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
General
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Comanche Indians -- Fiction; Western stories
"As he has just given us such a severe thrashing," replied Phil, "he
demanded our immediate and unconditional surrender. He said that if we
acceded to this demand only one-tenth of us would be shot, but he made
it a special condition that a renowned scout, sharpshooter, white
warrior, and talker, one William Breakstone, be shot first and at once,
as a terrible example, in the presence of both victor and vanquished.
Immediately after him one Hans Arenberg, a very dangerous and
blood-thirsty man, was to share the same fate. If we refused this
gentle alternative, we were all to be killed, and then scalped by the
savages."
"Of course, Sir Philip," said Bill Breakstone, "they’ve put a just value
on me, but I surmise that the jest doth leap from your nimble tongue.
Now the truth!"
"De Armijo and the Indian chiefs did really demand our surrender," said
Phil. "They said we could not escape. They talked as if they were the
victors and we the beaten."
"Now, by my troth, that is a merry jest!" exclaimed Bill Breakstone.
"When do we lay down our arms? Is it within the next five minutes, or
do we even take fifteen?"
"You can surrender if you want to, Bill," said Phil, "but nobody else
has any notion of doing so. The rest, I think, are going to march
southward at once, Mexicans or no Mexicans, Comanches or no Comanches."
"Well spoken," said Bill Breakstone, "and I will even help in the
march."
A roar that might easily have been called a shout of defiance came from
the men of the train, when the story of the council was told. Then,
with increased zeal, they fell to the work of girding up for the march
and battle. The insolent demand of de Armijo added new fire to their
courage. Cheerful voices arose, the rattle of bridle-bits, the
occasional neigh of a horse, men singing snatches of song, generally
lines from sentimental ballads, and the clink of bullets as they were
counted and dropped into their pouches. Some of these sounds were of
war, but Phil found the whole effect buoyant and encouraging. He caught
the spirit, and whistled a lilting air as he, too, worked by the side of
Bill Breakstone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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