The rage of the honourable cannot be depicted: “My rifle!” he vociferated, “my rifle for God’s sake, Betsey—Juliet, run for my rifle!”
The judge then went into the house; but, as three pistols were drawn from our holsters, neither he nor his rifle made their appearance, so we turned our horses’ heads and rode on leisurely to Austin.
In Austin we had a grand opportunity of seeing the Texians under their true colours. There were three hotels in the town, and every evening, after five o’clock, almost all of them, not excluding the president of the republic, the secretaries, judges, ministers, and members of Congress, were, more or less, tipsy, and in the quarrels which ensued hardly a night passed without four or five men being stabbed or shot, and the riot was continued during the major portion of the night, so that at nine o’clock in the morning everybody was still in bed. So buried in silence was the town, that one morning, at eight o’clock, I killed a fine buck grazing quietly before the door of the Capitol. It is strange that this capital of Texas should have been erected upon the very northern boundary of the state. Indians have often entered it and taken scalps not ten steps from the Capitol.
While we were in Austin we made the acquaintance of old Castro, the chief of the Lepan Indians, an offset of the Comanche tribe. He is one of the best-bred gentlemen in the world, having received a liberal and military education, first in Mexico, and subsequently in Spain. He has travelled in France, Germany, England, and, in fact, all over Europe. He speaks and writes five or six languages, and so conscious is he of his superiority over the Texians, that he never addresses them but with contempt. He once said to them in the legislature room of Matagorda—“Never deceive yourselves, Texians. I fight with you against the Mexicans, because betwixt them and me there is an irreconcilable hatred. Do not then flatter yourselves that it is through friendship towards you. I can give my friendship only to those who are honourable both in peace and in war; you are all of you liars, and many of you thieves, scoundrels, and base murderers. Yes, dogs, I say true; yelp not, bark not, for you know you dare not bite, now that my two hundred warriors are surrounding this building: be silent, I say.”
Castro was going in the same direction as ourselves to join his band, which was at that moment buffalo-hunting, a few journeys northward. He had promised his company and protection to two foreign gentlemen, who were desirous of beholding the huge tenant of the prairies. We all started together, and we enjoyed very much this addition to our company.
The first day we travelled over an old Spanish military road, crossing rich rolling prairies, here and there watered by clear streams, the banks of which are sheltered by magnificent oaks. Fifteen miles from Austin there is a remarkable spot, upon which a visionary speculator had a short time before attempted to found a city. He purchased an immense tract of ground, had beautiful plans drawn and painted, and very soon there appeared, upon paper, one of the largest and handsomest cities in the world. There were colleges and public squares, penitentiaries, banks, taverns, whisky-shops, and fine walks. I hardly need say, that this town-manufacturer was a Yankee, who intended to realise a million by selling town-lots. The city (in prospective) was called Athens, and the silly fellow had so much confidence in his own speculation, that he actually built upon the ground a very large and expensive house. One day, as he, with three or four negroes, were occupied in digging a well, he was attacked by a party of Yankee thieves, who thought he had a great deal of money. The poor devil ran away from his beloved city and returned no more. The house stands as it was left. I even saw near the well the spades and pickaxes with which they had been working at the time of the attack. Thus modern Athens was cut off in the bud, which was a great pity, as a few Athenian sages and legislators are sadly wanted in Texas.
Early one morning we were awakened by loud roars in the prairie. Castro started on his feet, and soon gave the welcome news, “The Buffaloes.” On the plain were hundreds of dark moving spots, which increased in size as we came nearer; and before long we could clearly see the shaggy brutes galloping across the prairie, and extending their dark, compact phalanxes even to the line of the horizon. Then followed a scene of excitement. The buffaloes, scared by the continual reports of our rifles, broke their ranks and scattered themselves in every direction.
The two foreigners were both British, the youngest being a young Irishman of a good family, and of the name of Fitzgerald. We had been quite captivated by his constant good humour and vivacity of spirits; he was the life of our little evening encampments, and, as he had travelled on the other side of the Pacific, we would remain till late at night listening to his interesting and beautiful narratives of his adventures in Asiatic countries.
He had at first joined the English legion in Spain, in which he had advanced to the rank of captain; he soon got tired of that service and went to Persia, where he entered into the Shah’s employ as an officer of artillery. This after some time not suiting his fancy, he returned to England, and decided upon visiting Texas, and establishing himself as a merchant at San Antonio. But his taste for a wandering life would not allow him to remain quiet for any length of time, and having one day fallen in with an English naturalist, who had come out on purpose to visit the north-west prairies of Texas, he resolved to accompany him.
Always ready for any adventure, Fitzgerald rushed madly among the buffaloes. He was mounted upon a wild horse of the small breed, loaded with saddlebags, water calabashes, tin and coffee cups, blankets, etcetera, but these encumbrances did not stop him in the least. With his bridle fastened to the pommel of his saddle and a pistol in each hand, he shot to the right and left, stopping now and then to reload and then starting anew. During the hunt he lost his hat, his saddlebags, with linen and money, and his blankets: as he never took the trouble to pick them up, they are probably yet in the prairie where they were dropped.