“Well, well, old scout. When ‘Big Foot’—the Indian—is not around we will all call you ‘Big Foot.’ Ha! Ha! That’s a good one, I swan. ‘Big Foot’ you’ll be from henceforth.”
And that is the way that William Alexander Anderson Wallace came to be called “Big Foot” Wallace.
Born in Lexington, Virginia, in 1817, this intrepid frontiersman came of good, old Scottish stock, and stock that was of fighting spirit, for two of his uncles were killed in the battle of Guilford Court House. The Wallaces were all of powerful build, and the hero of our sketch was six feet two inches in height (in his moccasins) and weighed two hundred and forty pounds. He had long arms, large hands, and thick, curly, black hair. One of his uncles was nearly seven feet tall and his brother was six feet five inches in height.
As a young fellow, “Big Foot” Wallace had little of the excitement which was to come to him in later years. When about twenty years of age war commenced between the American colonists and Mexicans for the possession of Texas. Many young men went from Virginia to assist the Texans in driving out the soldiers under Santa Anna, among them Samuel Wallace, the older brother of William with the big feet. Samuel was killed in the massacre of Colonel Fannin’s men at Goliad, which has been described in “Famous Scouts,” and with him were also dispatched three cousins of our hero. When the news of this affair reached Lexington, Virginia, great was the grief among the relatives of these brave and valiant frontiersmen, and William was much upset by it.
“I am going to Texas,” he cried out. “And I intend to spend my life in killing Mexicans. Those men who could massacre my brother after he had surrendered and had been disarmed, can expect no quarter from me. I intend to have revenge!”
He had splendid opportunities in later years to make good this threat.
Taking ship from New Orleans to Galveston, William soon set foot on Texan soil. The war was over. Santa Anna had been defeated and captured the year before, at the famous battle of San Jacinto, and Texas was now an independent republic. So the young ranger drifted to Colorado, where he was soon surrounded by a large party of Indians and was captured. They carried him to their camp, but he only remained there a week, before he slipped away, eluded his pursuers, and got back to the settlement of San Antonio. His restless spirit could not be confined to the streets of a city and he soon went far to the southwest, where he camped and hunted along the Medina River. Finally he built a cabin there and lived the life of a lone huntsman and trapper in a region which was infested by Indians, horse-thieves, and fugitives from justice.
“Big Foot” Wallace had not been long in the country before he realized that something had to be done in order to keep law and order in this unsettled land. Besides the numerous raids of hostile bands of Indians—who roamed at will from New Mexico to the coast region of Texas—desperadoes and gamblers swarmed around all the border towns, and more particularly around San Antonio. No one was safe who opposed these wild fellows, and it was almost impossible to keep horses. The thieves would even dig through the adobe walls of the stables in order to steal them. A strong hand was needed to awe these desperate men and keep the Indians in check. There was one man in western Texas at this time who was quite equal to the emergency. His name was “Captain” Jack Hays.
The Governor of Texas sent for him.