“You must know then,” continued he, “that this vale in which you are
riding is one that has witnessed strange company and remarkable events.
In the olden time there came to Texas with Austin, who, you are aware,
brought ‘the first three hundred’ Americans who founded this great
commonwealth, a youth whose name was Strap Buckner. Where he was born,
whence his lineage, or why he bore the name of Strap the records do not
tell. Certain it is, he was of giant stature, and of the strength of
ten lions, and he used it as ten lions. His hair was of the redness of
flame, as robust as the mane of a charger, and his face—it was
freckled. He was of a kindly nature, as most men of giant strength are,
but he had a pride in his strength which grew ungovernable. With no
provocation whatever, he knocked men down with the kindest intentions
and no purpose to harm them. He would enter a circle of gentlemen with
a smiling visage, and knock them all down; and when any received
bruised or broken limbs, he nursed them with more than the tenderness
of a mother, and with a degree of enthusiasm, as if his whole heart was
bent on restoring them to health as soon as practicable, in order that
he might enjoy the pleasure of knocking them down again. His genius was
to knock men down. He knocked down Austin’s whole colony at least three
times over, including the great and good Austin himself.
“He could plant a blow with his fist so strongly that it was merry
pastime with him to knock a yearling bull stark dead; and even the
frontlet of a full grown animal could not withstand him. In those days
a huge black bull appeared mysteriously in Austin’s colony, who by his
ferocity became a terror to the settlement, and was known by the dread
name of Noche. Strap challenged this bull to single combat, and invited
the colony to witness the encounter. When the day came, the entire
colony looked from their doors and windows, being afraid to go out,
every one, probably, praying that both Strap and the bull would be
slain. He threw a red blanket over his shoulder, and walked on the
prairie with the air of a hero who goes forth to meet a mighty foeman.
He bore no weapon whatever. When the bull perceived him, he tossed his
tail, pawed the earth, and emitted a roar of thunder. Strap imitated
him, and pawed and roared also; which perceiving, the bull came toward
him like a thunder-bolt clothed in tempest and terror. Strap received
him with a blow on his frontlet from his bare fist, which sent him
staggering back upon his haunches, and the blood flowed from his
smoking nostrils. Recovering from his surprise, Noche, to the
astonishment of all, turned his tail and fled away, bellowing. He was
never more seen in those parts.
“Strap’s fame greatly arose, insomuch that men looked upon him in awe,
and maidens and strong women pined in secret admiration. He became a
great hunter, using no other weapon but his fist and an iron pestle, or
mace. About this time also Strap became addicted to strong drink and
grew boisterous, to such a degree that people shunned him in spite of
his kindly nature. No man would meet him alone; but when he was seen
approaching, men would shut themselves up in their houses, or collect
in knots, all with guns and pistols cocked. Strap now determined that
he would seek other fields of glory. So, early on a bright spring
morning he arose, and throwing his bundle of raiment over his left
shoulder, and bearing his iron pestle in his right hand, he turned his
back upon the unappreciative community.
“He traveled west over the great plains. After days of wonders Strap
reached the site where La Grange now is, and to his surprise found a
solitary trading house, where Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall exchanged
beads and liquor with Indians for furs and skins, and for horses they
might steal. He liked the country greatly, and whiskey being
accessible, he determined to abide in these quarters. On the first day
of his arrival, he knocked down both Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall,
but so handsomely and with such an air of unspeakable kindness that
they could conceive no offense. Before a week had elapsed he had
knocked down every Indian brave who dwelt within ten miles round; and
finally he knocked down the great king himself, Tuleahcahoma. The
Indians called him the Red Son of Blue Thunder. The great king held him
in such reverence that he presented him with a gray horse with a
bob-tail, which, though ugly and lank to look at, was famed as the
swiftest horse known to all the Indians.
“Now this great king and his powerful tribe dwelt in this fair valley
in which you ride. Strap saw it, and he loved the beautiful land. He
resolved to settle within it, and chose yon lovely site, and there
built his residence of cedar posts. He procured a jug of whiskey and
set up housekeeping, an object of great reverence to his neighbors.
Daily he went forth and knocked down many Indians with great grace. At
last they conceived that they did not like this, and they determined to
abandon the vale. On a dark night they silently stole away, and next
morning Strap found himself alone. When he beheld the deserted valley,
but yesterday teeming with braves and fair maidens, he wept in the
kindness of his heart. ‘Other friends,’ said he, ‘have left me before.
Such is the common penalty of greatness.’
“Two days he pondered on his greatness and his misery, and the struggle
between his genius and his better spirit was terrible. He who hath
genius hath a heaving ocean or a volcano in his breast. At length, a
dark light gleamed in Strap’s impatient eyes; it was his genius
startled and indignant. He arose with a proud air, admiringly gazed
upon his enormous fists, and groaned deeply for the presence of some
one whom he might knock down. His bosom heaved and swelled. And then a
sweet gentleness stole into his eyes, as his better spirit spoke to him
in a soft voice: ‘Ah, Strap, hast thou not glory enough? Hast thou not
knocked down many times nearly every man in Texas ... even the great
Austin and the mighty king Tuleahcahoma? Come, gentle Peace; encircle
thy pleasant arms about me and bathe my brow with kisses. My laurels
are sufficient, and the great man shall have repose.’
“He felt a thirst, and he reached forth his hand for his jug, but found
it empty. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘this will not do.’ He called his swift gray
nag, and holding his jug in one hand and the rein in the other, hied
away, his long red hair streaming like a meteor behind him. When he
rose on the east bank of the Colorado, as fate would have it, he saw
twenty-two Indian braves, who, having exchanged their skins for whiskey
and trinkets, were having a gay dance under the boughs of an oak. Strap
dismounted, and stepping lightly into the circle of braves, knocked
them all down. He then turned to each one and bowed with exquisite
grace, and the gentleness on his countenance was sweet. You see how
treacherous genius is, and how feeble are the best efforts to withstand
it. He that hath a genius must needs let it work. Lightly he stepped
into the trading house, smiling as the dawn, carrying his clenched
fists before him. He met Bob Turket at the door, and instantly knocked
him down. His eyes sparkled, his genius was aglow. Bill Smotherall,
beholding the light of his countenance, essayed to escape, but a
powerful blow overtook him between the shoulders and felled him face
downward to the floor. Strap jumped upon the counter and flapped his
elbows against his flanks, and crowed a crow which rang among the hills
and forests of the Colorado. His genius for the first time had overcome
his kindness of heart; for never before, in all his achievements, had
he uttered a note of triumph. I fear me it was a mark of the decadence
of his noble spirit.