Читать книгу The Adventures of Big-Foot Wallace (Illustrated Edition) - John Crittenden Duval - Страница 6
ОглавлениеINTRODUCTORY.
In 1867, while temporarily sojourning in the city of San Antonio, I had a severe attack of fever, from the effects of which I recovered but slowly. Thinking that fresh air and exercise would aid me in regaining my health and strength, I mounted my horse one fine morning in the latter part of October, and set out for the “ranch” of my quondam messmate and compadre, “Big-Foot Wallace,” who held an uncertain tenure upon a tract of pasture land, situated on the Chacon, one of the head-waters of the Altascoso. I say, uncertain, for his right to and possession of the same is constantly disputed and ignored by predatory bands of savages, and Mexicans, and horse-thieves of all colors, grades, and nations.
Toward sundown, from the top of a considerable hill, I came in sight of Wallace’s little ranch, snugly ensconced at the bottom of a valley, near the margin of a small lake, and protected from the northern blasts by a beautiful grove of spreading live-oaks. As I rode up I discovered Wallace under one of these trees, engaged in the characteristic occupation of skinning a deer, which was hanging head downward, suspended from one of its lower branches. Wallace did not recognize me at first, for it was many years since we had last met; but, as soon as I made myself known to him, he gave me a cordial shake of the hand, and invited me into his ranch, where, in a short time, he prepared a supper, to which I sat down, “nothing loath,” for my appetite was sharpened by my long day’s ride.
I staid with Wallace two weeks, or thereabouts, hunting, fishing, and riding around during the day, and entertained each night with “yarns” of his numerous “’scapes and scrapes, by flood and field.” Many years previously, when Wallace and I were messmates together, in the first Ranging Company, enlisted in the service of the “Old Republic,” under Colonel Jack Hays, I asked his consent to write out a narrative of his “adventures,” to be published for the benefit of the public generally. But he seemed so much opposed to my doing so, that I did not press the matter upon him. His reasons for refusing to accede to my request were characteristic of the man. “He did not think the public would be interested in the history of one so little known;” and, “even if he had vanity enough to believe otherwise, he had not the least desire to see himself figuring in print.” I determined once more to approach him on the subject, and this time I had better success than formerly, for finally (though evidently with reluctance) he consented that I should publish the following narrative of his adventures in Mexico and on the frontiers of Texas.
“There is,” I said to Wallace, “one difficulty in the way of writing out your ‘adventures,’ which I do not exactly know how to get over; and that is, you do not murder the king’s English with every other word you speak. Now, in all the books I have ever read, in which backwoodsmen or frontiersmen figure, they are always made to talk without the least regard to the rules of grammar.”
“I know,” said Wallace, “that my education is a very limited one, but do give me credit for the little I have. People are not such fools as to think that a man cannot be a good hunter or ranger, merely because he speaks his own language passably well.”
And so, in compliance with Wallace’s request, in the following narrative of his “adventures,” I have ignored the time-honored rule of making him speak in slang and misspelt words, and tell the story “just as it was told to me.”
