“Do not tear down the jail, gentlemen—you have been taxed for years to build this fine structure—it is yours—do not tear it down. I will open the doors wide—you can all come in—do not tear down the jail; but there are twelve Rangers in there, with orders to kill as long as they can see. Come right in, gentlemen—but come fixed.”
The mob was overcome by his civility.
Texas is to-day the only State in the Union where pistol-carry ing is attended with great chances of arrest and fine. The law is supreme even in the lonely jacails out in the rolling waste of chaparral, and it was made so by the tireless riding, the deadly shooting, and the indomitable courage of the Texas Rangers.
THE BLUE QUAIL OF THE CACTUS
THE Quartermaster and I both had trouble which the doctors could not cure—it was January, and it would not do for us to sit in a “blind “; besides, I do not fancy that. There are ever so many men who are comfortable all over when they are sitting in a blind waiting on the vagrant flying of the ducks; but it is solemn, gloomy business, and, I must say, sufficient reason why they take a drink every fifteen minutes to keep up their enthusiasm. We both knew that the finest winter resort for shot-gun folks was in the Southwest—down on the Rio Grande in Texas—so we journeyed to Eagle Pass. As we got down from the train we saw Captain Febiger in his long military cloak by a lantern-light.
“Got any quail staked out for us, Feb?” asked the Quartermaster.
“Oodles,” said Febiger; “get into my trap,” and we were rattled through the unlighted street out to the camp, and brought up by the Captain's quarters.
In the morning we unpacked our trunks, and had everything on the floor where we could see it, after the fashion with men. Captain Febiger's baby boy came in to help us rummage in the heaps of canvas clothes, ammunition, and what not besides, finally selecting for his amusement a loaded Colt's revolver and a freshly honed razor. We were terrorized by the possibilities of the combination. Our trying to take them away from the youngster only made him yell like a cavern of demons. We howled for his mother to come to our aid, which she finally did, and she separated the kid from his toys.
I put on my bloomers, when the Captain came in and viewed me, saying: “Texas bikes; but it doesn't bloom yet. I don't know just what Texas will do if you parade in those togs—but you can try.”