3 Years Among the Comanches (Memoirs). Nelson Lee
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of the situation of affairs, we crept cautiously into the town late at night, and joined by the citizens, succeeded in surrounding the house where the greater portion of them were assembled at a grand fandango, before they were aware. Suddenly entering the house, a furious and indiscriminate attack began, in which we killed sixteen and took eight prisoners, repaying their swaggering and lawless insolence with compound usury. The prisoners were delivered over to the judicial authorities, two of whom were tried, found guilty and shot.
A few weeks after this event orders arrived from President Houston, directing us to set out again on a reconnoitering excursion along the border of Mexico. The object of the expedition was to ascertain whether it was true, as everywhere reported, that a large Mexican force was concentrating somewhere beyond the river, preparatory to another warlike descent upon the country.
No time was lost in getting ready to carry the President’s orders into execution, and soon, following the lead of Jack Hays, we had left behind us all that wide extent of country stretching from San Antonio to the Rio Grande, which latter we crossed at a point ten miles below Laredo. We were now upon Mexican territory and were impressed with the necessity of advancing with great caution, well aware the fate of spies awaited us should we happen to be surrounded and overwhelmed. Our progress was necessarily slow; nevertheless, we continued on our course down the west shore, passing numerous villages and haciendas, yet entirely eluding recognition.
The popular opinion has sometimes prevailed that the Rio Grande is full of shoals and rocks, subject to become almost dry in the autumnal season. So far from this being correct, it is always navigable, at the lowest stage of water, any portion of the year, from far above Laredo. It is, indeed, a beautiful river, averaging four hundred yards in width, with high bluffs generally on one shore or the other, and the opposite side always a fertile bottom. This river resembles the Ohio more than any I recollect to have seen, and is far superior for steamboat navigation to any other upon the Gulf of Mexico, west of the Mississippi. The alluvion is almost exclusively on the west bank, and is capable of being brought into the highest state of cultivation, while the eastern shore is lined with bluffs and precipitous hills. These are covered with a dense growth of shrubbery, and all bearing thorns of one kind or another, forming what is called in the Mexican language, the chapparal. The immense stock which for ages had grazed upon these heights having kept down the grass, deep ravines have been washed out by the rains, rendering it, for the most part, a frontier easily to be defended.1
We had passed below Reynosa, unable as yet to make any discoveries of particular consequence, when, one night, we were overtaken by one of those heavy fogs peculiar to that section. It rolled over us like a great volume of thick smoke, so dense as to close our vision against all surrounding objects. Stumbling on and on, we became confused and lost. As it began partially to disappear, we came suddenly upon two Mexicans, peons, watching their flocks. One of them was captured, the other making his escape. Inquiring of the prisoner where we were, he conducted us to a slight elevation, when to our astonishment we found ourselves in the very suburbs of the city of Matamoros; and learned further from him that the town was crowded with troops preparing, as he understood, to march against Texas. Well aware the Mexican who had escaped would report our presence, and not doubting that a troop of cavalry would presently be clattering at our heels, we turned our horses’ heads and dashed back at a far greater rate of speed than we had advanced. However, we distanced all pursuers, if indeed any ventured a pursuit, and in due time once more crossed the Rio Grande, and encamped within the boundaries of our own state.
In the course of our travels, arriving at the Rio Frio, we espied a large party galloping towards us across the prairie, which proved to be the notorious Antonio Perez, with two hundred of his thieving vagabonds at his back. Thinking it scarcely prudent to encounter so large a force on the open plain, we fled to a narrow strip of timber on the riverbank, and there waited their approach, which was as rapid as their steeds could bear them.
The battle lasted for an hour and was quite as warm as those engaged in it thought either pleasant or convenient, and resulted in the enemy withdrawing, leaving us to pursue our journey undisturbed. In this battle, on the banks of the Rio Frio, we had one killed and several wounded, while the Mexicans left us numbering thirty less than when they approached. Nineteen times out of twenty a Mexican bullet passes as many feet above the object at which he fires. The philosophy of it I do not pretend to comprehend, nevertheless I know it to be the fact from no small experience, and this accounts for the disparity in numbers killed by the opposing parties, observable in these contests, for it cannot be denied that, generally, they are brave in battle.
At length, reining up our horses once more in the plaza of San Antonio, Hays dispatched a messenger to the commander-in-chief, with a detailed account of our long excursion, when, in order to recruit ourselves and animals, we were temporarily disbanded. Without delay, I hurried off to my old quarters on the Guadaloupe, where, for a long period, I passed away the time, alternately attending to business and indulging in the pleasures of the chase.
Chapter V.
John M. Segnin—Mexican Robberies—The Black Prince—His escape from his captors—Following the back track—The Hacienda of Nevarro—Interview with Marcus Beremindo—Christolphe Rublo, the Robber—His early life and character— Milford Day— The journey of discovery—The Robber's Retreat—Description of their encampment—The Council of War—The Good Genius —The banditti attacked—Their panic and flight—The mistake undiscovered—Return to Seguin.
The little town of Seguin, on the Guadaloupe, which, as before stated, I had selected as my abode, derives its name from Colonel John M. Seguin, whose extensive estate was situated on the opposite shore, and whose career occupies a large space in Texan history. He was a native Mexican, the son of Don Erasmo Seguin, a prominent citizen of San Antonio, and, like Antonio Perez, had once enjoyed the confidence of the Texan government, and like him, also, had betrayed it.
From this town I had gone down on some matter of business to Gonzales, thirty-six miles below, riding a mule instead of my favorite, the Black Prince, being desirous to preserve him in as fine condition as possible. Returning, I reached Seguin early in the morning, and on entering the town, at once perceived the whole population, my friends and neighbors, in the highest state of excitement. They were gathered in groups, or hurrying to and fro, everything indicating some unusual occurrence had taken place. I was not long in learning what in those times naturally suggested itself, that during the night the Mexicans had entered the place and stolen nearly every horse it contained, besides a large amount of other property, and with their proverbial cunning bad managed to make their escape without detection.
I mingled with the crowd and immediately became inspired with the prevailing indignation, for I was not long kept in ignorance of the fact that Black Prince, whom I regarded as the apple of my eye, had likewise been swept away with others in the general pillage. This was a loss I felt more deeply than the reader will probably be able to comprehend. Without wife or child, or any relative within a thousand miles, I made him my pet and companion, and though savage and dangerous to others, towards me he was gentle as the lamb. Many a night had we passed together out on the silent prairie. I had clung to him in the midst of enemies whose loud shrieks filled the heavens with the noise of war—long and bravely, over mountains and across the plains, he had borne me safely on his back—and who can wonder I came to think of him with genuine affection, regarding him more as an intelligent being than a poor dumb beast?
The day wore on until noon, the excitement still undiminished, when an object was discovered on the prairie as far distant as the eye could reach. It approached nearer and nearer, its outlines growing more and more distinct, until it assumed the shape of a horse coming at his utmost stretch of speed. Eagerly all eyes were turned towards him, and presently the crowd sent up the cry that it was the Black Prince. It was indeed him, and loud and hearty was the salutation he received as he dashed in among us, stopping by my side, panting for breath and covered with foam. He had evidently broken away from his captors, and ran from them as if conscious