"They all drew their beans with manly dignity and firmness. Some of
lighter temper jested over the bloody tragedy. One would say, `_Boys!
this beats raffling all to pieces_!' Another, `_Well, this is the
tallest gambling-scrape I ever was in_.' Robert Beard, who lay upon the
ground exceedingly ill, called his brother William, and said, `Brother,
if you draw a black bean, I'll take your place--I want to die!' The
brother, with overwhelming anguish, replied, `No, I will keep my own
place; _I am stronger, and better able to die than you_.' Major Cocke,
when he drew the fatal bean, held it up between his finger and thumb,
and, with a smile of contempt, said, `Boys! I told you so: I never
failed in my life to draw a prize!' He then coolly added, `They only
rob me of forty years.' Henry Whaling, one of Cameron's best fighters,
as he drew his black bean, said, in a joyous tone, `Well, they don't
make much out of me anyhow: I know I've killed twenty-five of them.'
Then demanding his dinner in a firm voice, he added, `They shall not
cheat me out of it!' Saying this, he ate heartily, smoked a cigar, and
in twenty minutes after had ceased to live! The Mexicans fired fifteen
shots at Whaling before he expired! Young Torrey, quite a youth but in
spirit a giant, said that he `was perfectly willing to meet his fate--
for the glory of his country he had fought, and for her glory he was
willing to die.' Edward Este spoke of his death with the coolest
indifference. Cash said, `Well, they murdered my brother with Colonel
Fannin, and they are about to murder me.' J.L. Jones said to the
interpreter, `Tell the officer to look upon men who are not afraid to
die for their country.' Captain Eastland behaved with the most
patriotic dignity; he desired that his country should not particularly
avenge his death. Major Dunham said he was prepared to die for his
country. James Ogden, with his usual equanimity of temper, smiled at
his fate and said, `I am prepared to meet it.' Young Robert W. Harris
behaved in the most unflinching manner, and called upon his companions
to avenge their murder.
"They were bound together--their eyes being bandaged--and set upon a log
near the wall with their backs towards their executioners. They all
begged the officer to shoot them in front, and at a short distance,
saying they `_were not afraid to look death in the face_.' This request
the Mexican refused; and to make his cruelty as refined as possible,
caused the fire to be delivered from a distance, and to be continued for
ten or twelve minutes, lacerating and mangling those heroes in a manner
too horrible for description."
When you talk of Thermopylae think also of Texas!
"But what of Holingsworth?" I asked.
"Ah! Holingsworth!" replied the lieutenant; "_he has_ good cause to
remember Ijurra, now I think of it. I shall give the story to you as I
heard it;" and my companion proceeded with a relation, which caused the
blood to curdle in my veins, as I listened. It fully explained, if it
did not palliate, the fierce hatred of the Tennessean towards Rafael
Ijurra.
In the Mier expedition Holingsworth had a brother, who, like himself,
was made prisoner. He was a delicate youth, and could ill endure the
hardships, much less the barbarous treatment, to which the prisoners
were exposed during that memorable march. He became reduced to a
skeleton, and worse than that, footsore, so that he could no longer
endure the pain of his feet and ankles, worn skinless, and charged with
the spines of acacias, cactus, and the numerous thorny plants in which
the dry soil of Mexico is so prolific. In agony he fell down upon the
road.
Ijurra was in command of the guard; from him Holingsworth's brother
begged to be allowed the use of a mule. The youth had known Ijurra at
San Antonio, and had even lent him money, which was never returned.
"To your feet and forward!" was Ijurra's answer.
"I cannot move a step," said the youth, despairingly.
"Cannot! _Carrai_! we shall see whether you can. Here, Pablo,"
continued he, addressing himself to one of the soldiers of the guard;
"give this fellow the spur; he is restive!"
The ruffian soldier approached with fixed bayonet, seriously intending
to use its point on the poor wayworn invalid! The latter rose with an
effort, and made a desperate attempt to keep on; but his resolution
again failed him. He could not endure the agonising pain, and after
staggering a pace or two, he fell up against a rock.
"I cannot!" he again cried--"I cannot march farther: let me die here."
"Forward! or you _shall_ die here," shouted Ijurra, drawing a pistol
from his belt, and cocking it, evidently with the determination to carry
out his threat. "Forward!"
"I cannot," faintly replied the youth.
"Forward, or I fire!"
"Fire!" cried the young man, throwing open the flaps of his
hunting-shirt, and making one last effort to stand erect.
"You are scarce worth a bullet," said the monster with a sneer; at the
same instant he levelled his pistol at the breast of his victim, and
fired! When the smoke was blown aside, the body of young Holingsworth
was seen lying at the base of the rock, doubled up, dead!
A thrill of horror ran through the line of captives. Even their
habitually brutal guards were touched by such wanton barbarity. The
brother of the youth was not six yards from the spot, tightly bound, and
witness of the whole scene! Fancy his feelings at that moment!
"No wonder," continued the Texan--"no wonder that Harding Holingsworth
don't stand upon ceremony as to where and when he may attack Rafael
Ijurra. I verily believe that the presence of the Commander-in-chief
wouldn't restrain him from taking vengeance. It ain't to be wondered
at!"
In hopes that my companion might help me to some knowledge of the family
at the hacienda, I guided the conversation in that direction.
"And Don Ramon de Vargas is Ijurra's uncle?"
"Sure enough, he must be. Ha! I did not think of that. Don Ramon _is_
the uncle. I ought to have known him this morning--that confounded
_mezcal_ I drank knocked him out of my mind altogether. I have seen the
old fellow several times. He used to come to San Antonio once a-year on
business with the merchants there. I remember, too, he once brought a
daughter with him--splendid girl that, and no mistake! Faith, she
crazed half the young fellows in San Antonio, and there was no end of
duels about her. She used to ride wild horses, and fling the lazo like
a Comanche. But what am I talking about? That mezcal _has_ got into my
brains, sure enough. It must have been _her_ you chased? Sure as
shooting it was!"
"Probable enough," I replied, in a careless way. My companion little
knew the deep, feverish interest his remarks were exciting, or the
struggle it was costing me to conceal my emotions.
One thing I longed to learn from him--whether any of these amorous
duellists had been favoured with the approbation of the lady. I longed
to put this question, and yet the absolute dread of the answer
restrained my tongue! I remained silent, till the opportunity had
passed.
The hoof-strokes of half-a-dozen horses coming rapidly from the rear,
interrupted the conversation. Without surprise, I perceived that it was
Holingsworth and the rangers who had been left at the hacienda.
"Captain Warfield!" said the Tennessean as he spurred alongside, "my
conduct no doubt surprises you. I shall be able to explain it to _your_
satisfaction when time permits. It's a long story--a painful one to me:
you will not require it from me now. This much let me say--for good
reason, I hold Rafael Ijurra as my most deadly foe. _I came to Mexico
to kill that man_; and, by the Eternal! if I don't succeed, I care not
who kills _me_!"
"You have _not_ then--"
With a feeling of relief, I put the question, for I read he answer in
the look of disappointed vengeance that gleamed in the eyes of the
Tennessean. I was not permitted to finish the interrogatory; he knew
what I was going to ask, and interrupted me with the reply--
"No, no; the villain has escaped; but by--"
The rest of the emphatic vow was inaudible; but the wild glance that
flashed from the speaker's eye expressed his deep purpose more plainly
than words.
The next moment he fell back to his place in the troop, and with his
head slightly bent forward, rode on in silence. His dark taciturn
features were lit up at intervals by an ominous gleam, showing that he
still brooded over his unavenged wrong.