causes a fever that may prove fatal!
Along the wooded banks of the streams may be encountered the spotted ocelot, the puma, and their more powerful congener, the jaguar; the last of these felidae being here upon the northern limit of its geographical range.
Along the edges of the chapparal skulks the gaunt Texan wolf — solitarily and in silence; while a kindred and more cowardly species, the coyoté, may be observed, far out upon the open plain, hunting in packs.
Sharing the same range with these, the most truculent of quadrupeds, may be seen the noblest and most beautiful of animals — perhaps nobler and more beautiful than man — certainly the most distinguished of man’s companions — the horse!
Here — independent of man’s caprice, his jaw unchecked by bit or curb, his back unscathed by pack or saddle — he roams unrestrained; giving way to all the wildness of his nature.
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.
A still more extensive enclosure, containing within its circumference more than an acre of the timbered tract, and fenced in a similar manner, extended rearward from the cabin, terminating against the bluff. Its turf tracked and torn by numerous hoof-prints — in some places trampled into a hard surface — told of its use: a “corral” for wild horses — mustangs.
This was made still more manifest by the presence of a dozen or more of these animals within the enclosure; whose glaring eyeballs, and excited actions, gave evidence of their recent capture, and how ill they brooked the imprisonment of that shadowy paddock.
The interior of the hut was not without some show of neatness and comfort. The sheeting of mustang-skins that covered the walls, with the hairy side turned inward, presented no mean appearance. The smooth shining coats of all colours — black, bay, snow-white, sorrel, and skewbald — offered to the eye a surface pleasantly variegated; and there had evidently been some taste displayed in their arrangement.
The furniture was of the scantiest kind. It consisted of a counterfeit camp bedstead, formed by stretching a horse-hide over a framework of trestles; a couple of stools — diminutive specimens on the same model; and a rude table, shaped out of hewn slabs of the yucca-tree. Something like a second sleeping place appeared in a remote corner — a “shakedown,” or “spread,” of the universal mustang-skin.
What was least to be expected in such a place, was a shelf containing about a score of books, with pens, ink, and papéterie; also a newspaper lying upon the slab table.
Further proofs of civilisation, if not refinement, presented themselves in the shape of a large leathern portmanteau, a double-barrelled gun, with “Westley Richards” upon the breech; a drinking cup of chased silver, a huntsman’s horn, and a dog-call.
Upon the floor were a few culinary utensils, mostly of tin; while in one corner stood a demijohn, covered with wicker, and evidently containing something stronger than the water of the Alamo.
Other “chattels” in the cabin were perhaps more in keeping with the place. There was a high-peaked Mexican saddle; a bridle, with headstall of plaited horsehair, and reins to correspond; two or three spare serapés, and some odds and ends of raw-hide rope.
Such was the structure of the mustanger’s dwelling — such its surroundings — such its interior and contents, with the exception of its living occupants — two in number.
On one of the stools standing in the centre of the floor was seated a man, who could not be the mustanger himself. In no way did he present the semblance of a proprietor. On the contrary, the air of the servitor — the mien of habitual obedience — was impressed upon him beyond the chance of misconstruction.
Rude as was the cabin that sheltered him, no one entering under its roof would have mistaken him for its master.
Not that he appeared ill clad or fed, or in any way stinted in his requirements. He was a round plump specimen, with a shock of carrot-coloured hair and a bright ruddy skin, habited in a suit of stout stuff — half corduroy, half cotton-velvet. The corduroy was in the shape of a pair of knee-breeches, with gaiters to correspond; the velveteen, once bottle green, now faded to a brownish hue, exhibited itself in a sort of shooting coat, with ample pockets in the breast and skirts.
A “wide-awake” hat, cocked over a pair of eyes equally deserving the appellation, completed the costume of the individual in question — if we except a shirt of coarse calico, a red cotton kerchief loosely knotted around his neck, and a pair of Irish brogues upon his feet.
It needed neither the brogues, nor the corduroy breeches, to proclaim his nationality. His lips, nose, eyes, air, and attitude, were all unmistakably Milesian.
Had there been any ambiguity about this, it would have been dispelled as he opened his mouth for the emission of speech; and this he at intervals did, in an accent that could only have been acquired in the shire of Galway. As
