MONSIEUR VIOLET (FISCLE PART-IV), FREDERICK MARRYAT [easy novels to read .txt] 📗

Always Tipsy, And Not At All Backward In

Appropriating To Himself That To Which He Had No Right, Dismissed him

From Their Service, And Overton Returned to His Former Life. By-And-Bye,

Some Yankees Made Him Proposals, Which He Accepted; What Was The Nature

Of Them No One Can Exactly Say, But Everybody May Well Fancy, Knowing

That Nothing Is Considered more Praiseworthy Than Cheating The Indians

In Their Transactions With Them, Through The Agency Of Some Rascally

Interpreter, Who, Of Course, Receives His _Tantum Quantum_ Of The

Profits Of His Treachery. For Some Time The Employers And Employed

Agreed amazingly Well, And As Nothing Is Cheaper Than Military Titles In

The United states, The Half-Breed became Colonel Overton, With Boots And

Spurs, A Laced coat, And A Long Sword. Cunning as Were The Yankees,

Overton Was Still More So; Cheating Them As He Had Cheated the Indians.

The Holy Alliance Was Broken Up; He Then Retired to The Mountains,

Protected by The Mexican Government, And Commenced a System Of General

Depredation, Which For Some Time Proved successful. His Most Ordinary

Method Was To Preside Over A Barter Betwixt The Savages And The Traders.

When Both Parties Had Agreed, They Were Of Course In good Humour, And

Drank Freely. Now Was The Time For The Colonel. To The Indians He Would

Affirm That The Traders Only Waited till They Were Asleep, To Butcher

Them And Take Back Their Goods. The Same Story Was Told To The Traders,

And A Fight Ensued, The More Terrible As The Whole Party Was More Or

Less Tipsy. Then, With Some Rogues In his Own Employ, The Colonel, Under

The Pretext Of Making all Safe, Would Load The Mules With The Furs And

Goods, Proceed to Santa Fe, And Dispose Of His Booty For One-Third Of

Its Value. None Cared how It Had Been Obtained; It Was Cheap,

Consequently It Was Welcome.

 

 

 

His Open Robberies And Tricks Of This Description Were So Numerous That

Overton Became The Terror Of The Mountains. The Savages Swore That They

Would Scalp Him; The Canadians Vowed that They Would Make Him Dance To

Death; The English Declared that They Would Hang Him; And The Yankees,

They Would Put Him To Indian Torture. The Mexicans, Not Being able Any

More To Protect Their Favourite, Put A Price Upon His Head. Under These

Circumstances, Overton Took An Aversion To Society, Concealed himself,

And During Two Years Nothing Was Heard Of Him, When, One Day, As A Party

Of Comanches And Tonquewas Were Returning From Some Expedition, They

Perceived a Man On Horseback. They Knew Him To Be Overton, And Gave

Chase Immediately.

 

 

 

The Chase Was A Long One. Overton Was Mounted upon A Powerful And Noble

Steed, But The Ground Was Broken And Uneven; He Could Not Get Out Of The

Sight Of His Pursuers. However, He Reached a Platform Covered with Fine

Pine Trees, And Thought Himself Safe, As On The Other Side Of The Wood

There Was A Long Level Valley Extending For Many Miles; And There He

Would Be Able To Distance His Pursuers, And Escape. Away He Darted like

Lightning, Their Horrible Yell Still Ringing In his Ears; He Spurred his

Horse, Already Covered with Foam, Entered the Plain, And, To His Horror

And Amazement, Found That Between Him And The Valley There Was A

Horrible Chasm, Twenty-Five Feet In breadth And Two Hundred feet In

Depth, With Acute Angles Of Rocks, As Numerous As The Thorns Upon A

Prickly Pear. What Could He Do? His Tired horse Refused to Take The

Leap, And He Could Plainly Hear The Voice Of The Indians Encouraging

Each Other In the Pursuit.

 

 

 

Along The Edge Of The Precipice There Lay A Long Hollow Log, Which Had

Been Probably Dragged there With The Intention Of Making a Bridge Across

The Chasm. Overton Dismounted, Led his Horse To The Very Brink, And

Pricked him With His Knife The Noble Animal Leaped, But His Strength Was

Too Far Gone For Him To Clear It; His Breast Struck The Other Edge, And

He Fell From Crag To Crag Into The Abyss Below. This Over, The Fugitive

Crawled to The Log, And Concealed himself Under It, Hoping That He Would

Yet Escape. He Was Mistaken, For He Had Been Seen; At That Moment, The

Savages Emerged from The Wood, And A Few Minutes More Brought Them

Around The Log. Now Certain Of Their Prey, They Wished to Make Him

Suffer A Long Moral Agony, And They Feigned not To Know Where He Was.

 

 

 

"He Has Leaped over," Said One; "It Was The Full Jump Of A Panther.

Shall We Return, Or Encamp Here?"

 

 

 

The Indians Agreed to Repose For A Short Time; And Then Began A

Conversation. One Protested, If He Could Ever Get Overton, He Would Make

Him Eat His Own Bowels. Another Spoke Of Red-Hot Irons And Of Creeping

Flesh. No Torture Was Left Unsaid, And Horrible Must Have Been The

Position Of The Wretched overton.

 

 

 

"His Scalp Is Worth A Hundred dollars," Said One.

 

 

 

"We Will Get It Some Day," Answered another. "But Since We Are Here, We

Had Better Camp And Make A Fire; There Is A Log."

 

 

 

Overton Now Perceived that He Was Lost. From Under The Log He Cast A

Glance Around Him: There Stood The Grim Warriors, Bow In hand, And Ready

To Kill Him At His First Movement. He Understood That The Savages Had

Been Cruelly Playing With Him, And Enjoying His State Of Horrible

Suspense. Though A Scoundrel, Overton Was Brave, And Had Too Much Of The

Red blood Within Him Not To Wish To Disappoint His Foes--He Resolved to

Allow Himself To Be Burnt, And Thus Frustrate The Anticipated pleasure

Of His Cruel Persecutors. To Die Game To The Last Is An Indian'S Glory,

And Under The Most Excruciating Tortures, Few Savages Will Ever Give Way

To Their Bodily Sufferings.

 

 

 

Leaves And Dried sticks Soon Surrounded and Covered the Log--Fire Was

Applied, And The Barbarians Watched in silence. But Overton Had Reckoned

Too Much Upon His Fortitude. His Blood, After All, Was But Half Indian,

And When The Flames Caught His Clothes He Could Bear No More. He Burst

Out From Under The Fire, And Ran Twice Round Within The Circle Of His

Tormentors. They Were Still As The Grave, Not A Weapon Was Aimed at Him,

When, Of A Sudden, With All The Energy Of Despair, Overton Sprang

Through The Circle And Took The Fearful Leap Across The Chasm.

Incredible As It May Appear, He Cleared it By More Than Two Feet; A Cry

Of Admiration Burst From The Savages; But Overton Was Exhausted, And He

Fell Slowly Backwards. They Crouched upon Their Breasts To Look

Down--For The Depth Was So Awful As To Giddy The Brain--And Saw Their

Victim, His Clothes Still In flames, Rolling Down From Rock To Rock Till

All Was Darkness.

 

 

 

Had He Kept His Footing On The Other Side Of The Chasm, He Would Have

Been Safe, For A Bold Deed always Commands Admiration From The Savage,

And At That Time They Would Have Scorned to Use Their Arrows.

 

 

 

Such Was The Fate Of Colonel Overton!

Chapter XIII

At Last We Passed the Rio Grande, And A Few Days More Brought Us To

Santa Fe. Much Hath Been Written About This Rich And Romantic City,

Where Formerly, If We Were To Believe Travellers, Dollars And Doubloons

Were To Be Had Merely For Picking Them Up; But I Suspect The Writers Had

Never Seen The Place, For It Is A Miserable, Dirty Little Hole,

Containing about Three Thousand Souls, Almost All Of Them Half-Bred,

Naked, And Starved. Such Is Santa Fe. You Will There Witness Spectacles

Of Wretchedness And Vice Hardly To Be Found Elsewhere--Harsh Despotism;

Immorality Carried to Its Highest Degree, With Drunkenness And Filth.

 

 

 

The Value Of The Santa Fe Trade Has Been Very Much Exaggerated. This

Town Was Formerly The Readiest Point To Which Goods Could Be Brought

Overland From The States To Mexico; But Since The Colonization Of Texas

It Is Otherwise. The Profits Also Obtained in this Trade Are Far From

Being What They Used to Be. The Journey From St. Louis (Missouri) Is

Very Tedious, The Distance Being about Twelve Hundred miles, Nor Is The

Journey Ended when You Reach Santa Fe, As They Have To Continue To

Chihuahua. Goods Come Into The Country At A Slight Duty, Compared to

That Payable On The Coast, Five Hundred dollars Only (Whatever May Be

The Contents), Being Charged upon Each Waggon; And It Is This Privilege

Which Supports The Trade. But The Real Market Commences At Chihuahua;

North Of Which Nothing Is Met With By The Traveller, Except The Most

Abject Moral And Physical Misery.

 

 

 

Of Course, Our Time Passed most Tediously; The Half-Breeds Were Too

Stupid To Converse With, And The Yankee Traders Constantly Tipsy. Had It

Not Been That Gabriel Was Well Acquainted with The Neighbourhood, We

Should Positively Have Died of _Ennui_. As It Was, However, We Made Some

Excursions Among The _Rancheros_, Or Cattle-Breeders, And Visited

Several Indian Tribes, With Whom We Hunted, Waiting Impatiently For A

Westward-Bound Caravan.

 

 

 

One Day, I Had A Rather Serious Adventure. Roche And Gabriel Were

Bear-Hunting, While I, Feeling Tired, Had Remained in a Rancho, Where,

For A Few Days, We Had Had Some Amusement; In the Afternoon, I Felt An

Inclination To Eat Some Fish, And Being Told That At Three Or Four Miles

Below, There Was A Creek Full Of Fine Basses, I Went Away With My Rifle,

Hooks, And Line. I Soon Found The Spot, And Was Seeking For Some Birds

Or Squirrels, Whose Flesh I Could Use As Bait. As, Rifle In hand, I

Walked, Watching The Branches Of The Trees Along The Stream, I Felt

Something Scratching My Leggings And Moccasins; I Looked down, And

Perceived a Small Panther-Cub Frisking and Frolicking around My Feet,

Inviting Me To Play With It. It Was A Beautiful Little Creature,

Scarcely Bigger Than A Common Cat. I Sat Down, Put My Rifle Across My

Knees, And For Some Minutes Caressed it, As I Would Have Done An

Ordinary Kitten; It Became Very Familiar, And I Was Just Thinking Of

Taking It With Me, When I Heard Behind Me A Loud And Well-Known Roar,

And, As The Little Thing Left Me, Over My Head Bounded a Dark Heavy

Body. It Was A Full-Grown Panther, The Mother Of The Cub. I Had Never

Thought Of Her.

 

 

 

I Rose Immediately. The Beast Having Missed the Leap, Had Fallen Twelve

Feet Before Me. It Crouched, Sweeping The Earth With Its Long Tail, And

Looking Fiercely At Me. Our Eyes Met; I Confess It, My Heart Was Very

Small Within Me. I Had My Rifle, To Be Sure, But The Least Movement To

Poise It Would Have Been The Signal For A Spring From The Animal. At

Last, Still Crouching, It Crept Back, Augmenting The Distance To About

Thirty Feet. Then It Made A Circle Round Me, Never For A Moment Taking

Its Eyes Off My Face, For The Cub Was Still Playing at My Feet. I Have

No Doubt That If The Little Animal Had Been Betwixt Me And The Mother,

She Would Have Snatched it And Run Away With It. As It Was, I Felt Very,

Very Queer; Take To My Heels I Could Not, And The Panther Would Not

Leave Her Cub Behind; On The Contrary, She Continued making a Circle

Round Me, I Turning With Her, And With My Rifle Pointed towards Her.

 

 

 

As We Both Turned, With Eyes Straining at Each Other, Inch By Inch I

Slowly Raised my Rifle, Till The Butt Reached my Shoulder; I Caught The

Sight And Held My Breath. The Cub, In jumping, Hurt Itself, And Mewed;

The Mother Answered by An Angry Growl, And Just As She Was About To

Spring, I Fired; She Stumbled backwards, And Died without A Struggle. My

Ball, Having Entered under The Left Eye, Had Passed through The Skull,

Carrying With It A Part Of The Brain.

 

 

 

It Was A Terrific Animal; Had I Missed it, A Single Blow From Her Paw

Would Have Crushed me To Atoms. Dead As It Was, With Its Claws Extended,

As If To Seize