Even yet it was in constant danger from the Indians, particularly the Tawakanas; and it had been loaned a six-pounder brass cannon by the presidio of San Antonio, for protection. The cannon was not mounted, but it was kept in readiness.
Gonzales was the westernmost of the American settlements in Texas. Further west there was only old San Antonio de Bexar or Bejar—usually styled by the last word, pronounced “Behar.” It was seventy-five miles by road, and was strictly a Mexican town, although Americans lived there. Years before it had been established as a Roman Catholic mission, where were stationed priests and soldiers to educate and control the Indians. The mission part was abandoned, but as a presidio or garrison of Mexican soldiery, and as the principal Mexican military post in Texas, old Bejar was considered of much importance. The road to it was lonely and unsettled.
East of Gonzales, about eighty miles, was San Felipe—Stephen Austin’s town; south sixty miles was Goliad or Goliath, formerly the Mexican military post of La Bahia, on the lower San Antonio River; and down the Guadalupe, below Gonzales, about the same distance, was Victoria. But the country between, surrounding Gonzales, was all wild and unoccupied, and Gonzales was a real frontier settlement.
Dick Carroll “bached” it in his little log cabin; here he and Ernest slept and cooked their meals. Ernest on his first day was set at work herding horses on the prairie north of the houses; and thinking hard while sitting his yellow pony, and listening to Dick Carroll and the other men, in his hours off duty, he soon got a pretty clear idea of the situation in Texas.
“It’s this way,” explained Mr. Carroll. “Texas wants to be a free and self-governing Mexican state, with all the privileges of the constitution of 1824. But instead of that, the blamed Mexican government has joined us to the other province of Coahuila, that lies next to us, just across the Rio Grande, so we’re only a part of the state of Coahuila and Texas. Now, that doesn’t go. Coahuila province and Texas province are different peoples altogether. Across the Rio Grande everything is Mexican and can be run ’cording to Mexican ideas. But Texas is settled up by Americans, used to different laws and different habits, and perfectly capable of governing themselves if only given the chance. Now when we’re tacked onto Coahuila, and the state officers are mainly located in Coahuila, and they’re most of ’em Mexicans, to boot, a small show does Texas stand of putting through the kind of laws that Americans can live and do business under. Santa Anna, though, will help us as soon as he’s president, now that the revolution ag’in Bustamante has won out. And this spring Texas is going to hold a regular state convention by itself, draw up a state constitution, and ask the government to approve it. I reckon Sam Houston’ll be one of the delegates from Nacogdoches; and if so, the constitution’ll be dog-proof and hog-tight. He ought to be down this way right quick. He was over at San Felipe, to meet Austin, last week, I hear tell, and he’s going on through to Bejar, they say.”
Mr. Carroll had spoken correctly, for within a day or two the general (he had been general of the Tennessee militia) did appear in Gonzales. Ernest found him there, at supper time, talking in the midst of a group of citizens. He wore the same big, broad-brimmed whitish hat, and Mexican blanket, and buckskin pantaloons, and looked as large as any two other men.
Ernest stood on the outskirts of the little circle of curious spectators, and gazed like the rest of them. He knew Sam Houston; certainly he did; but although Dick Carroll was there, taking part in the conversation, he felt as if it would be rather nervy of him to elbow in. Still, he hoped that the general would notice him, in some way.
However, Mr. Carroll chanced to see him, and beckoned him forward.