At this point the Colonel's cigar went out, and directly he followed;
but this is the manner in which he told of deeds which I know would fare
better at the hands of one used to phrasing and capable also of more
points of view than the Colonel was used to taking. The outlines of the
thing are strong, however, because the Deacon and I understood that
fights were what the old Colonel had dealt in during his active life,
much as other men do in stocks and bonds or wheat and corn. He had been
a successful operator, and only recalled pleasantly the bull quotations.
This type of Ranger is all but gone. A few may yet be found in outlying
ranches. One of the most celebrated resides near San Antonio--"Big-foot
Wallace" by name. He says he doesn't mind being called "Big-foot,"
because he is six feet two in height, and is entitled to big feet. His
face is done off in a nest of white hair and beard, and is patriarchal
in character. In 1836 he came out from Virginia to "take toll" of the
Mexicans for killing some relatives of his in the Fannin Massacre, and
he considers that he has squared his accounts; but they had him on the
debit side for a while. Being captured in the Meir expedition, he
walked as a prisoner to the city of Mexico, and did public work for that
country with a ball-and-chain attachment for two years. The prisoners
overpowered the guards and escaped on one occasion, but were overtaken
by Mexican cavalry while dying of thirst in a desert. Santa Anna ordered
their "decimation," which meant that every tenth man was shot, their lot
being determined by the drawing of a black bean from an earthen pot
containing a certain proportion of white ones. "Big-foot" drew a white
one. He was also a member of Captain Hayes's company, afterwards a
captain of Rangers, and a noted Indian-fighter. Later he carried the
mails from San Antonio to El Paso through a howling wilderness, but
always brought it safely through--if safely can be called lying thirteen
days by a water-hole in the desert, waiting for a broken leg to mend,