But even in this, his favourite haunt, he is not always left alone. Man presumes to be his pursuer and tamer: for here was he sought, captured, and conquered, by Maurice the Mustanger.
On the banks of the Alamo—one of the most sparkling streamlets that pay tribute to the Nueces—stood a dwelling, unpretentious as any to be found within the limits of Texas, and certainly as picturesque.
Its walls were composed of split trunk of the arborescent yucca, set stockade-fashion in the ground; while its roof was a thatch furnished by the long bayonet-shaped loaves of the same gigantic lily.
The interstices between the uprights, instead of being “chinked” with clay—as is common in the cabins of Western Texas—were covered by a sheeting of horse-skins; attached, not by iron tacks, but with the sharp spines that terminate the leaves of the pita plant.
On the bluffs, that on both sides overlooked the rivulet—and which were but the termination of the escarpment of the higher plain—grew in abundance the material out of which the hut had been constructed: tree yuccas and magueys, amidst other rugged types of sterile vegetation; whereas the fertile valley below was covered with a growth of heavy timber—consisting chiefly of red-mulberry, post-oak, and pecân, that formed a forest of several leagues in length. The timbered tract was, in fact, conterminous with the bottom lands; the tops of the trees scarce rising to a level with the escarpment of the cliff.
It was not continuous. Along the edge of the streamlet were breaks—forming little meads, or savannahs, covered with that most nutritious of grasses, known among Mexicans as grama.
In the concavity of one of these, of semicircular shape—which served as a natural lawn—stood the primitive dwelling above described; the streamlet representing the chord; while the curve was traced by the trunks of the trees, that resembled a series of columns supporting the roof of some sylvan coliseum.
The structure was in shadow, a little retired among the trees; as if the site had been chosen with a view to concealment. It could have been seen but by one passing along the bank of the stream; and then only with the observer directly in front of it. Its rude style of architecture, and russet hue, contributed still further to its inconspicuousness.
The house was a mere cabin—not larger than a marquee tent—with only a single aperture, the door—if we except the flue of a slender clay chimney, erected at one end against the upright posts. The doorway had a door, a light framework of wood, with a horse-skin stretched over it, and hung upon hinges cut from the same hide.
In the rear was an open shed, thatched with yucca leaves, and supported by half a dozen posts. Around this was a small enclosure, obtained by tying cross poles to the trunks of the adjacent trees.