of a wild past from one of the very few tongues which can still wag on
the days when the Texans, the Co-manches, and the Mexicans chased one
another over the plains of Texas, and shot and stabbed to find who
should inherit the land.

Through the veil of tobacco smoke the ancient warrior spoke his
sentences slowly, at intervals, as his mind gradually separated and
arranged the details of countless fights. His head bowed in thought;
anon it rose sharply at recollections, and as he breathed, the shouts
and lamentations of crushed men--the yells and shots--the thunder of
horses' hoofs--the full fury of the desert combats came to the pricking
ears of the Deacon and me.

We saw through the smoke the brave young faces of the hosts which poured
into Texas to war with the enemies of their race. They were clad in
loose hunting-frocks, leather leggings, and broad black hats; had
powder-horns and shot-pouches hung about them; were armed with
bowie-knives, Mississippi rifles, and horse-pistols; rode Spanish
ponies, and were impelled by Destiny to conquer, like their remote
ancestors, "the godless hosts of Pagan" who "came swimming o'er the
Northern Sea."

"Rip" Ford had not yet acquired his front name in 1836, when he enlisted
in the famous Captain Jack Hayes's company of Rangers, which was
fighting the Mexicans in those days, and also trying incidentally to
keep from being eaten up by the Comanches.

Said the old Colonel: "A merchant from our country journeyed to New
York, and Colonel Colt, who was a friend of his, gave him two
five-shooters--pistols they were, and little things. The merchant in