{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_70859/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_70859","id":"gutenberg_70859","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70859","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Legends -- Texas","Mines and mineral resources -- Texas -- Folklore","Tales -- Texas","Treasure troves -- Texas -- Folklore"],"text":"LEGENDS OF TEXAS\n\n\n                               EDITED BY\n                             J. FRANK DOBIE\n\n\n                              PUBLICATIONS\n                                 of the\n                        TEXAS FOLK-LORE SOCIETY\n\n                               Number III\n\n                            (SECOND EDITION)\n\n                PUBLISHED BY THE TEXAS FOLK-LORE SOCIETY\n                          AUSTIN, TEXAS, 1924\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEDITOR\u2019S PREFACE\n\n\nThe assembling of the legends of my own state has been with me no light\nmatter, though it has been a joyful business. Might I as editor spend\nas much of the next three years as I have spent of the last three in\ntalking with people, in riding on horseback into remote places, in\nwriting letters, in searching through Texas material, the result would\nno doubt be more satisfactory. The satisfaction, however, would not lie\nin an increased number of legends, nor in an added variety or worth,\nfor all the widely known legends of Texas are, I think, here presented,\nand the swelling size of this volume has already ruled out many legends\nas representative and as interesting as some of those included. The\nincreased satisfaction resulting from further research would lie in the\nestablishment of relationships, in the tracing out of origins, and,\nmost of all, in the fullness of the bibliography. Files of Texas\nnewspapers would come first as a printed source for additional\nlegendary material. These I have but dipped into, my removal to a place\nin which they are altogether inaccessible having cut short the\ninvestigation of them that I had planned. Considerable new material\nmight be gained from original Spanish and Mexican documents. Texas\nmagazines and Texas books of fiction, history, biography, and travel\nhave been fairly well examined. The chief source of legend in a virgin\nfield of folk-lore like that of Texas is the folk themselves; that\nfield is not likely to be exhausted soon.\n\nNo attempt has been made at comparing the legends of Texas with those\nof other lands. An attempt has been made to relate the legends to each\nother and to the life and history of the state. In the grouping of\nthem, logic has been plainly violated. The groups overlap. They would\noverlap in any other manner of arrangement, even a geographical one.\nWith few exceptions, and those important for their relationships, all\nlegends not residing among Texans of white skin and English speech have\nbeen excluded. Thus certain negro tales, certain Mexican legends\nunassimilated by English speaking Texans, certain Indian legends have\nbeen ruled out. Of course, a vast majority of the legends transmitted\nby white settlers in Texas are derived from folk of other races.\n\nVarious factors have combined to determine just what legends should be\nincluded. A few legends have been printed on account of their\ngeographic interest. The legends of buried treasure and lost mines are\narranged according to place. The geographic center of such legends in\nTexas is the Llano and San Saba country. Hence the legends of that\nregion have been put first; then come in order those to the south as\nfar as Brownsville, those of the west clear to the Guadalupe Mountains,\nthose of the north against Red River, those of the eastern part of the\nstate, and finally those of the south-central and east. My own intimacy\nwith the southwestern part of Texas has probably led to the inclusion\nof an undue proportion of treasure legends from that section; I can\nonly plead that I have excluded almost as many as are included. A\nconsiderable number of excellent legends of Texas are available in\nrecent books and newspapers and have, therefore, not been reprinted.\nThe legends of the Alamo and other missions of San Antonio are first in\nimportance among legends of the state. They are not included in this\nvolume because happily they have been preserved in at least three local\nhistories. [1]\n\nIf the ballads of a nation are as important as its laws, its legends\nare almost as important as its ballads. Here I must confess a great\nhope that some man or woman who understands will seize upon these\nlegends and use them as Irving used the legends of the Hudson and the\nCatskills, as Whittier used the legends of New England. People of Texas\nsoil still have a vast body of folk-lore, and whoever will write of\nthem with fidelity must recognize that lore as surely as Shakespeare\nrecognized the lore of his folk, as surely as Mr. Thomas Hardy has\nrecognized the lore of Wessex.\n\nThe names of nearly two score contributors to this volume testify to\nthe eagerness with which people from every quarter of the state have\njoined in the enterprise of gathering together their legends. Many\nwhose names are unsigned have contributed with equal sympathy and\nintelligence. As editor, I desire to express gratitude to all who have\nhelped. First I must record the eager sympathy and aid of many former\nstudents of mine at the University of Texas. I owe much to the\nencouragement and counsel of Dr. L. W. Payne, Jr., Professor of English\nat the University of Texas. Mrs. Adele B. Looscan of Houston has time\nafter time contributed invaluable information. Mr. E. G. Littlejohn of\nGalveston has for years kept clippings of legends that appeared in\nTexas newspapers, and he has put his collection at the disposal of the\neditor. Miss Elizabeth H. West of the Texas State Library and Mrs.\nMattie Austin Hatcher, Mr. E. W. Winkler, and Miss Annie Campbell Hill,\nall of the Library of the University of Texas, have given generously of\ntheir time and information. Since my removal from Austin seven months\nago, Mr. W. P. Webb, Adjunct Professor of History at the University of\nTexas, and Miss Louise von Blittersdorf and Mr. Hartman Dignowity,\nstudents, have often verified certain references or run down certain\ninformation not procurable elsewhere than in the libraries of Texas\nmaterial at Austin. My wife, Bertha McKee Dobie, has \u201co\u2019er look\u2019d each\nline\u201d of manuscript and proof, and the debt to her cannot be set down.\nMr. A. C. Wright, Manager of the University of Texas Press, has done\nfar more than a mere business obligation required. The list grows too\nlong. It is impossible to extend it to include the names of all those\nwho have assisted.\n\n\n\nMORE LEGENDS WANTED\n\nFinally, let it not be thought that this volume will conclude the\ncollection and publication of Texas legends. I make an appeal at once\npersonal and official: it is for more legends, new or variant, to add\nto the ripening second volume that I trust may come forth at no very\nremote date.\n\n\n                          Oklahoma Agricultural and Mechanical College,\n                                                  Stillwater, Oklahoma,\n                                                           April, 1924.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nLEGENDS OF BURIED TREASURE AND LOST MINES\n\nAn Inquiry into the Sources of Treasure Legends of Texas\n                                                   J. Frank Dobie     3\nThe Legend of the San Saba or Bowie Mine.          J. Frank Dobie    12\nLost Gold of the Llano Country                   E. G. Littlejohn    20\n    I.      The Brook of Gold Discovered by Lost Rangers\n    II.     The Smelter on the Little Llano\nLost Mines of the Llano and San Saba                 Julia Estill    24\n    I.      A Legend of the Blanco Mine\n    II.     The Mythical Bowie Mine\nTreasure Legends of McMullen County                J. Frank Dobie    28\n    I.      The Rock Pens\n    II.     A Week Too Late at the Laredo-San Antonio Crossing\n    III.    The Chest at Rock Crossing on the Nueces\n    IV.     San Caja Mountain Legends\n    V.      The Mines\n    VI.     Loma de Siete Piedras\n    VII.    The Metate Rocks of Loma Alta\n    VIII.   When Two Parallel Lines Intersected\n    IX.     A Lucky Post Hole\nLegendary Spanish Forts Down the Nueces            J. Frank Dobie    43\n    I.      Fort Ramirez on the Ramire\u00f1a\n    II.     The Legend of Casa Blanca\n    III.    Lutzer\u2019s Find at Fort Planticlan\nTreasure Chest on the Nueces                   Mary A. Sutherland    49\nThe Battlefields of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma\n                                                   J. Frank Dobie    51\nHow Dollars Turned into Bumble Bees and Other Legends\n                                                   J. Frank Dobie    52\nNative Treasure Talk up the Frio                 Fannie Ratchford    57\nThe Silver Ledge on the Frio                       J. Frank Dobie    60\nLost Mines Near Sabinal                          Edgar B. Kincaid    62\n    I.      The Quicksilver Mine of the Rangers\n    II.     Lost Lead Mine\nThe Nigger Gold Mine of the Big Bend               J. Frank Dobie    64\nMysterious Gold Mine of the Guadalupe Mountains\n                                                 J. Marvin Hunter    67\nLost Copper Mines and Spanish Gold, Haskell County\n                                                   R. E. Sherrill    72\nLost Lead Mine on the Brazos, King County        L. D. Bertillion    77\nThe Accursed Gold in the Santa Anna Mountains       J. Leeper Gay    78\nThe Hole of Gold Near Wichita Falls                J. Frank Dobie    80\nBuried Treasure Legends of Cooke County            Lillian Gunter    81\nThe Treasure Cannon of the Neches                   Roscoe Martin    84\nThe Dream Woman and the White Rose Bush        Mary A. Sutherland    89\nSteinheimer\u2019s Millions                           L. D. Bertillion    91\nThe Snively Legend                                 J. Frank Dobie    95\nBuried Treasure Legends of Milam County   Louise von Blittersdorf    99\n    I.      The San Gabriel Mission in Legend\n    II.     The Gold Protected by Snively\u2019s Ghost\n    III.    Pope\u2019s Ghost at the Gap\nThe Wagon-Load of Silver in Clear Fork Creek     L. W. Payne, Jr.   103\nMoro\u2019s Gold                                      Fannie Ratchford   104\n\n\nLEGENDS OF THE SUPERNATURAL\n\nThe Legend of Stampede Mesa                      John R. Craddock   111\nThe Woman of the Western Star: A Legend of the Rangers\n                                                 Adele B. Looscan   115\nThe Devil and Strap Buckner                          N. A. Taylor   118\nThe Legend of Cheetwah                              Edith C. Lane   130\nThe Mysterious Woman in Blue                  Charles H. Heimsath   132\nThe Headless Squatter                            John R. Craddock   135\nMysterious Music in the San Bernard River      Bertha McKee Dobie   137\nThe Death Bell of the Brazos                   Bertha McKee Dobie   141\nThe Legend of the Salt Marshes                 Bertha McKee Dobie   143\nRhymes of Galveston Bay                         John P. Sjolander   143\n    I.      The Boat That Never Sailed\n    II.     The Padre\u2019s Beacon\n    III.    Baffle Point\n    IV.     Point Sesenta\n    V.      Gumman Gro\n\n\nLEGENDS OF LOVERS\n\nThe Enchanted Rock in Llano County                   Julia Estill   153\nFrancesca: A Legend of Old Fort Stockton         L. W. Payne, Jr.   157\nLover\u2019s Retreat and Lovers\u2019 Retreat, Palo Pinto.     J. S. Spratt   159\nLover\u2019s Leap in Kimble County                        Flora Eckert   163\nThe Waiting Woman                                John R. Craddock   167\nLover\u2019s Leap at Santa Anna                          Austin Callan   169\nAntonette\u2019s Leap: The Legend of Mount Bonnell      J. Frank Dobie   171\n\n\nPIRATES AND PIRATE TREASURE IN LEGEND\n\nFrom Sunset in August: Galveston Beach            Stanley E. Babb   179\nLife and Legends of Lafitte the Pirate           E. G. Littlejohn   179\n    I.      Jean Lafitte: Man and Pirate\n    II.     Credence in the Lafitte Legend\n    III.    The Horror Guarded Treasure of the Neches\n    IV.     Pirates and Their Sacks of Gold\n    V.      Lafitte\u2019s Treasure Vault\nThe Uneasy Ghost of Lafitte                         Julia Beazley   185\nLafitte Lore                                           J. O. Webb   189\nThe Pirate Ship of the San Bernard:\n  A Legend of Theodosia Burr Allston                 J. W. Morris   191\n\n\nLEGENDARY ORIGINS OF TEXAS FLOWERS, NAMES, AND STREAMS\n\nAn Indian Legend of the Blue Bonnet               Mrs. Bruce Reid   197\nHow the Water Lilies Came to the San Marcos River\n                                             Bella French Swisher   200\nThe Legend of Eagle Lake                                            201\nThe Holy Spring of Father Margil at Nacogdoches\n                                                 E. G. Littlejohn   204\nIndian Bluff on Canadian River                   L. W. Payne, Jr.   205\nHow Medicine Mounds of Hardeman County Got Their Name\n                                                 L. W. Payne, Jr.   207\nThe Naming of Metheglin Creek                        Alex. Dienst   208\nHow Dead Horse Canyon Got Its Name                Victor J. Smith   209\nHow the Brazos River Got Its Name                  J. Frank Dobie   209\n    I.      The Miraculous Escape\n    II.     How Perishing Seamen Named the River\n    III.    The Great Drouth and the Waters at Waco\n    IV.     A Miraculous Swim\n    V.  Arms Avenging and Saving\nHow the Brazos and the Colorado Originated       E. G. Littlejohn   218\n\n\nMISCELLANEOUS LEGENDS\n\nThe White Steed of the Prairies                        W. P. Webb   223\nThe Legend of Sam Bass                                 W. P. Webb   226\nThe Horn Worshipers                              L. D. Bertillion   230\nThe Cave of Montezuma                               J. Leeper Gay   233\nThe First Corn Crop in Texas                         A. W. Eddins   236\nLa Casa del Santa Anna                               A. W. Eddins   237\nLost Canyon of the Big Bend Country                J. Frank Dobie   238\nA Tradition of La Salle\u2019s Expedition into Texas      Alex. Dienst   241\nBig Foot and Little Foot                        Mrs. S. J. Wright   242\nThe Wild Woman of the Navidad                    Martin M. Kenney   242\n\n\nBibliography of Texas Legends                                       255\nContributors                                                        261\nProceedings of the Texas Folk-Lore Society                          263\nMembers of the Texas Folk-Lore Society                              264\nIndex                                                               271\n\n\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nThe Magic Circle: A Chart of the Blanco Mine                         25\nThe Spider Rock                                                      73\nStampede Mesa                                                       113\nLover\u2019s Leap: Junction, Kimble County                               164\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF BURIED TREASURE AND LOST MINES\n\n\nAN INQUIRY INTO THE SOURCES OF TREASURE LEGENDS OF TEXAS\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nI\n\nHowever many legends of other kinds there may be, the buried treasure\nor lost mine legend is the typical legend of Texas. Just how\nrepresentative it is, is demonstrated by the varied examples in this\nsection of \u201cLegends of Buried Treasure and Lost Mines.\u201d The McMullen\nCounty group well illustrates how numerous are the legends. The group\nis by no means unique in either number or variety. Pertaining to the\ncountry up the Colorado and its western tributaries, there are\nliterally hundreds of lost treasure legends. Scarcely fewer legends\ncluster around the old Fort Stockton-Fort Lancaster country, around the\nVictoria-Refugio-Goliad country, around the Big Bend country, and along\ncertain sections of the Red River country. In lumber mills of East\nTexas buried treasure is the frequent subject of tale and speculation.\nThe Nacogdoches country, the San Jacinto country, the San Augustine\ncountry, the country all along the Brazos from head to mouth, to\nmention only a few other localities, are replete with buried treasure\nlegends. Moreover, instead of diminishing in number, these legends are\nconstantly increasing.\n\nThe people who tell these legends represent many standards and strata\nof life, but the ultimate source of their legendary gold and their\ntales is common\u2014Mexican or Spanish. In some of the legends the pioneer\nTexan, the Indian, or the negro plays a part, but in nearly all the\nSpaniard and the Mexican enter as both actors and transmitters. The\nnative Texan frequently makes no distinction between \u201cSpaniard\u201d and\n\u201cMexican\u201d; the wealth of legend, however, is generally Spanish. And\nthat wealth would fade the actual riches of Potosi into paltriness.\nNow, how comes it that illimitable wealth is so popularly ascribed to\nthe long Spanish dominion in Texas and to the brief Mexican occupation\nthat intervened between the downfall of Spanish sovereignty and the\nachievement of Texas independence? Were the Spanish great gainers in\nTexas? Did Santa Anna\u2019s armies mark their trail with gold?\n\nThe facts are that the Spanish in Texas were always hard up, that the\noccupation of the territory was a financial loss, that Texas was\noccupied as a buffer, [2] first against the French in Louisiana and\nthen against the United States, with but little attempt at mineral\nexploitation and always with a drain on the treasury. The Spanish\nsoldiers and settlers often led a wretched existence, even on occasions\nhaving to root in the ground for starches and to hunt wild berries for\nsugars. According to Mrs. Mattie Austin Hatcher, one old San Antonio\nMexican did write that the Spanish soldiers there were rolling in\nwealth. \u201cThey will spend a hundred reales for a dinner,\u201d said he, \u201cas\neasily as we spend a centavo for a glass of beer.\u201d But he was a\nrevolutionist inflamed with hatred of Spanish tyranny. So far as we\nknow from the records\u2014and again I quote Mrs. Hatcher for authority\u2014only\none cargo of money ever came to Texas from south of the Rio Grande;\nthat was during the Mexican Revolution, in 1811. An expedition of\nrevolutionists set forth from Coahuila to San Antonio, seeking escape\nto the United States. They had with them a considerable amount of\nbullion and money belonging to the revolutionary party. They were\ncaught in Texas and hanged, and nobody knows what became of their\nwealth.\n\nAccording to authenticated history, the Spanish worked but one mine in\nwhat before 1836 was the state of Texas. [3] That was Los Almagres on\nthe San Saba River, opened about 1757. Though the history of the San\nSaba mission and of the San Saba presidio is clear and sufficiently\nfull, little is known of the history of the mine. It is doubtful if it\never paid much. Certainly, captains and commanders were always urging\nthe Spanish viceroy to equip a large presidio on the San Saba to\nprotect the mines. A certain Captain Villareal, too, is reported to\nhave sent an urgent plea to the viceroy for more troops to protect a\nmine \u201ctwo days\u2019 ride from Corpus Christi,\u201d which, he said, had been\ntaken by Indians. [4] But such advice from the Spanish commanders must\nnot be taken too seriously. Many of them were notorious grafters,\npaying their men in goods with enormous profit to themselves, and\nfrequently carrying on their payrolls the names of men whom they had\nenlisted only to discharge, or whom they had not enlisted at all. Their\nmeat was more men. [5] Yet these old reports have furnished\n\u201cdocumentary evidence\u201d to many a treasure hunter.\n\nSanta Anna\u2019s army, although it was well furnished when it crossed over\ninto Texas from Mexico, and although it provided some fair plunder to\nthe Texans at San Jacinto, [6] could not, thinks Dr. E. C. Barker,\nProfessor of American History in the University of Texas, have dropped\noff any chests of money in Texas. According to Dr. Barker, the Mexican\ntroops in Texas, especially garrison troops, were often poorly paid.\n\nIf we turn from the Spanish and Mexicans to the early American\ncolonists of Texas, we find that the prospect of mineral riches had\nlittle part in motivating their colonization. Though Stephen F. Austin\n\u201cdenounced\u201d a mine\u2014perhaps coal\u2014on the upper Trinity, [7] and though\nthe Bowie brothers, with a small band of men, staked their lives on the\nchance of gaining silver ore from the San Saba country, [8] thereby\ngiving basis to the most remarkable of all Texas legends, nevertheless,\nthe pioneer settlers of Texas came hither to plough and herd, to trade\nand labor, not to prospect. [9]\n\n\n\nII\n\nIf the Spanish, then, occupied Texas for military and not pecuniary\nreasons, at large expense; if the brief Mexican regime meant nothing\nmore than the maintenance of costly armies; if the original Texas\ncolonists came without a dream of Spanish treasure\u2014whence now among\ntheir descendants the amazing wealth of legends about lost mines and\nsecreted treasures pertaining to the Spanish-Mexican eras? The full\nanswer can be found in no one factor, but it can be largely found in\nthe Spanish genius as it expressed itself in America. The answer\ninvolves a review of early Spanish wealth in America, real and\nimaginary, and an understanding of the influence of the Spanish genius\nupon Anglo-Saxons in the Southwest. The Spanish found immense wealth in\nAmerica. They became credulous of mythical wealth. Later ages and folk,\nfailing to inherit their wealth, inherited their credulity.\n\nFor treasure the Spanish explored and ransacked the whole of one\ncontinent and the half of another. And treasure they found. The\nindeterminate lake of Tezcuco is yet uneasy with the wealth of\nMontezuma lost in it by the overwhelmed army of Cortez. [10] The ransom\nof Atahualpa, head Inca of Peru, promised in golden vessels to Pizarro\nat Andamarca, was to fill a room twenty-two by seventeen feet to a\nheight of nine feet above the floor. [11] And most of that ransom was\nactually delivered! Quesada did not find El Dorado, but in the country\nof Bogota he piled up golden booty in a courtyard so high \u201cthat a rider\non horseback might hide behind it.\u201d [12] For four centuries the silver\nmines of South America have been the richest in the world. What wonder\nthat the Spanish dreamed of wealth wherever the unknown stretched, and\nthat buoyantly they followed their dreams! Led by rumor, they found in\nsome places what they had come to America to find; thus they came to\nexpect to find it wherever rumor pointed. The assertion of a naked\nIndian led Balboa to gaze first of all Europeans upon the great \u201cSouth\nSea.\u201d An Indian told Pizarro of the vast nations of the Incas and of\nthe fabulous treasures of Cuzco. Indians with their tales of the wealth\nof the Aztecs and the Muiscas \u201cguided Cortez to the rich capital of\nMontezuma, and Quesada to the opulent plateau of Cundinamarca.\u201d [13]\n\nWhat wonder then that Sebastian de Benalcazar listened to a lone Indian\ntell the tale of the Gilded King, El Dorado, [14] in 1535, and that in\nthat puissant age of energy, exploration, and imagination, the tale was\nechoed in the camps of soldiers under the Andes, by the hearths of\npeasants in Navarre, on the smacks of Devonshire fishermen, in the\ncounting-houses of Augsburg bankers, and in the council chamber of\nQueen Elizabeth as well as in the courts of a century of Spanish\nmonarchs? To seek El Dorado, the conquistadores for a hundred years and\nmore marched and countermarched from one extremity of half of the\nwestern hemisphere to the other, spending the lives of tens of\nthousands of men and the wealth of prodigal treasuries, enduring\nstarvation, fever, cold, thirst, the pests of swamps and the\npitilessness of deserts\u2014all with an intrepidity that comes now in our\ntame \u201cSafety First\u201d age like a stirring cup brewed by the giants. At\nfirst a man, El Dorado came to mean a place somewhere in the western\npart of what is now Colombia, then in any, every direction. At\nsixty-three Great Raleigh came out of twelve years of imprisonment to\nfare forth a second time on the quest. And two centuries after he had\ndied the same quest was occupying whole bodies of men; and even yet it\nis the tale, so it is said, of sanguine souls scattered over all South\nAmerica.\n\nWhen the seekers did not find it, always the treasure was m\u00e1s all\u00e1, on\nbeyond. The search for La Ciudad Encantada de los Cesares, [15]\ninspired by the fabrication of an Indian, was but the duplication of\nthe sublime and ridiculous El Dorado error. And so was Cabeza de Vaca\u2019s\nquest for the legended wealth of Florida [16]\u2014a quest that had its\nironic conclusion on the other side of the continent in Coronado\u2019s\nexpedition. So, too, were the fabled Palace of Cubanacan in Cuba; [17]\nthe mythical wealth of the mythical Amazons; [18] the Laguna de Oro in\nNew Mexico; [19] the Pueblos del Rey Coronado of the West; [20] the\nCerro de la Plata, [21] which was perhaps Los Almagres of Texas; [22]\nthe Concho River, bedded with pearls richer than those of the Indies or\nof the Gulf of California; [23] the \u201cPeak of Gold,\u201d [24] in either\nTexas or New Mexico; the nebulous treasures of a Casa del Sol; [25] and\nthe Gran Paytiti, or Gran Moxo, [26] again in South America. Always\nbeyond and beyond, lured by the talk of whatever chance savage, the\nSpanish quested. Thus the tale of a captive Indian, who wanted to get\nback eastward, led Coronado from the empty pueblos of the Zu\u00f1i in\nArizona, whither he had been guided by an ignorant negro in search of\nthe Seven Cities of Cibola, to make his astounding march on eastward\nall the way to Kansas in quest of the Gran Quivira [27]\u2014a place that\nnever existed, a people that wandered naked at the heels of the\ndrifting buffalo.\n\nThe imagination of simple-lived folk abhors failure, and the poorest in\ncircumstances are the richest in legend of treasure. A remote disaster\nbecomes a hope for present success. \u201cI have remarked,\u201d says Washington\nIrving, [28] \u201cthat the stories of treasure buried by the Moors which\nprevail throughout Spain are most current among the poorest people. It\nis thus kind nature consoles with shadows for the want of\nsubstantials.\u201d When Coronado told his men the truth of his barren\nsearch, they deserted him unbelieving. Following his expedition in\n1542, a mission was established in southeastern New Mexico. For a\nhundred years explorers continued to search east and west for the\nQuivira. Finally the poor little mission was destroyed, and then the\nmixed-blooded descendants of the Spanish fortune hunters came to\nbelieve that it had been a rich cathedral in which was hoarded\nillimitable wealth. [29] The dreamer may die, but the dream of treasure\nlives on.\n\nWhen the Texas pioneers inherited the Spanish sitios and porciones of\nland, the leagues and labors, marked off by varas and pasos, they\ninherited too from the Spaniard and his Mexican successor something of\nthe lure of ungained treasure. The imagination that images a cave in\nthe Llano hills filled with five hundred jack loads of silver bullion\nis hardly so audacious as that which pictured the Seven Cities shining\nwith their jeweled portals in the sun and peopled mostly by goldsmiths;\nbut it is the same imagination, different only in degree, tempered by\nrace and by temporal environment. The maletas of doubloons, the chests\nand stuffed cannon of Mexican army money, the caves bursting with\nSpanish bullion and plundered jewels\u2014the very stuff of Texas treasure\nlegends\u2014are directly derived from the Spanish who made the multiform\nstory of El Dorado immortal. I do not mean to say that the treasure\nlegend is peculiar to the Spanish-tempered Southwest; I do mean to\nassert that the treasure legends of this Southwest are peculiarly of\nSpanish origin. It would, indeed, be interesting to contrast the\ntreasure legends of the world before the Spanish discovered American\nwealth with those that have taken form since.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nOne cannot neglect the immense effect on the imaginations of North\nAmerica made by the discovery of gold in California and later in\nAlaska. Snively\u2019s wild goose expedition up the Rio Grande in 1867 [30]\ncould hardly have been supported by the settlers of Texas before \u201949.\nThere is evidence to show that popular interest in, and therefore\nlegends of, Texas lost mines blazed up synchronically with the\nCalifornia gold excitement of 1848\u20131850. In 1849 Charles W. Webber\npublished a novel that makes much of the San Saba tradition. [31] In\nthe early fifties, Texas newspapers carried items on \u201cGold\u201d as well as\non \u201cCotton,\u201d etc., and there was a mining rush up the Colorado and its\nwestern tributaries. [32] The time afforded occasion for the revival of\nSpanish-Mexican and Indian traditions concerning Spanish mining\noperations in Texas. Note should be made of the fact that the majority\nof Texas buried treasure legends presuppose rich mines.\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTwo kindred qualities of man, hope and credulity, remain to be\nconsidered among the sources of treasure legend in Texas. These\nqualities are not co\u00f6rdinate with the historical forces; rather, they\nhave been acted upon by the historical forces. Yet they have a certain\nlocalized source like the legends themselves. For as the tradition of\nmodern treasure goes back to El Dorado, so the Mexicans who lure\nAmericans into the quest of treasure are direct descendants of the\nIndians who lured the early Spanish. These Indians often pointed the\neager Spanish on beyond in order to get rid of them; so the modern\nMexican frequently inspires credulity in American treasure hunters in\norder to gain a small reward.\n\nThere seems to be a more or less regular traffic in charts\u2014platas\u2014to\nburied treasure. One Mexican paid for medicine at a drug store with his\nchart and story; another got pasturage for his burros at the same\nprice; a third parted with his directive legend, which he believed in,\nto a white man for befriending him in sickness. Some of the platas\npurporting to be a century old are written with pencil on the cheapest\nof modern paper. The late John Warren Hunter asserted that at one time\nthe chart business was a regular industry in San Antonio. [33] Only\nrecently a man was indicted in Fort Worth for fraudulently obtaining\nmoney on pretense of organizing an expedition to seek $5,000,000 in\ngold nuggets in a cave in Mexico. [34] How the nuggets got in the cave\ninvolved a long story around an Indian, General Custer, Jesse James,\nand Pancho Villa. It was a good story! [35]\n\nHowever, it would be grossly wronging the chief purveyors of treasure\ncharts and legends to ascribe their action even primarily to avarice.\nIt is as easy to promise gold as it is to promise rain, and in a\ncountry in which neither is plentiful the Mexican shows his desire to\nplease by predicting both. Many a treasure legend has originated in\nmotives as innocent as those of Uncle Remus.\n\n\n\nV\n\nWhere there is so much smoke there must be some fire, many people\nfamiliar with the great body of treasure legend will say. I have no\ndisposition to refute the argument. According to legend, much money has\nbeen found. I myself know of a few small finds. I know of eight hundred\nMexican dollars having been found under a mesquite tree in Atascosa\nCounty many years ago; I know of about four hundred dollars in Mexican\ncoin that were rooted up by hogs in Frio County forty years ago.\nDoubtless other actual finds over the country could be recorded.\nWhatever the facts, few men of imagination can listen to the enthusiasm\nof the true treasure hunter without becoming infected with his glamour.\n\nAfter all, one need not patronize or pity these modern seekers of El\nDorado. The law of compensation always works. At least they have kept\nalive that \u201cknack of hoping\u201d that made Oliver Goldsmith so charming.\nThey have something in them as precious perhaps as the \u201cditches of\nfootnotes\u201d that authorize this treatise on them. They have dreamed\nsomething of the dream of Great Raleigh; and when one has known them as\nI have known them, he comes to respect something rightly simple and\nsincere in their lives, as there is, indeed, something rightly simple\nand sincere in their legends.\n\nIn some towns and back in certain unproductive hill districts of\nSouthwest Texas, a considerable number of people live to hunt treasure.\nWith them treasure hunting is a high passion. Others\u2014and among them\nmingle people of some means\u2014\u201cdig\u201d occasionally. However, few ranch and\nfarm people of the Southwest make a practice of hunting lost treasure,\nand the majority even laugh at folk who do; yet most of them sometimes\ntell these legends, and nearly every man, under the sanguine spell of\nrealistic circumstance, has at some time or another taken stock in one\nor two of them. Thus the legends in a large way, not easily defined,\nexpress the genius of the people to whose soil they pertain.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF THE SAN SABA OR BOWIE MINE\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nI\n\nThe epic legend of Texas is the legend of the San Saba, or Bowie, Mine.\nIn Spanish chronicles it is known as La Mina de Los Almagres, or simply\nLos Almagres; also as Las Amarillas; sometimes as La Mina de las\nIguanas, or Lizard Mine, from the fact that the ore was said to be\nfound in chunks called iguanas (lizards). Almagre means red earth.\n\n\u201cTo discover a rumored Silver Hill (Cerro de la Plata) somewhere to the\nnorth, several attempts were made before 1650 from both Nuevo Leon and\nNueva Vizcaya, but were frustrated by Indian hostilities.\u201d [36]\n\n\u201cSir,... the principal vein is more than two square bars thick, and\nfrom a distance the upper part of it looks to be more than thirty bars\nwide.... We met Indians who assured us that on beyond the almagres were\nstill larger and richer ... and that there we might find an abundance\nnot only of ore but of pure silver.... But the mines of Cerro del\nAlmagre are so numerous ... that I pledge myself to give the\ninhabitants of the province of Texas one each, without any man\u2019s being\nprejudiced in the measurements.\u201d Thus reported Bernardo de Miranda as a\nresult of his prospecting tour for minerals in the Llano country in\n1756. [37] And partly \u201cbecause an opulence and abundance of silver and\ngold was the principal foundation upon which the kingdom of Spain\nrested\u201d (\u201cpor que la riqueza y abundancia de plata, y oro, es el fundo\nprincipal de que resuelta los reinos de Espa\u00f1a\u201d), [38] as the royal\nviceroy of Mexico took occasion to remind his subordinates, an\nimmediate establishment of mission and presidio on the San Saba River\nwas undertaken and the mining enterprise presumably launched.\n\nThus the rumor of the Hill of Silver developed into the epic legend of\nTexas. History has recorded clearly the foundation and the failure of\nthe San Saba mission and presidio, and there is no occasion for\nrepeating the story here. [39] It has been singularly reticent on the\nsubject of the mines. Dr. Dunn says nothing on it. Dr. Bolton tells of\nhaving \u201cidentified the mine opened by Miranda with the Boyd Shaft\u201d on\nHoney Creek, fifty or sixty miles from the mission and presidio that\nwere near what is now Menard on the San Saba. [40] The fullest essay\nyet made at treating the debatable subject of the mines is to be found\nin a pamphlet by the late John Warren Hunter, entitled \u201cRise and Fall\nof the Mission San Saba,\u201d to which is appended \u201cA Brief History of the\nBowie or Almagres Mine.\u201d [41] The implication from history is that the\nmines were closed with the abandonment of the San Saba presidio, 1769.\nHowever, inasmuch as the nearest military protection was more than\nfifty miles away and was unable to hold its own against the Comanches\nand other hostile tribes, it is doubtful whether the mines were ever\nworked to any extent. Hunter finds, on doubtful evidence, that they\nwere still being operated in 1812. [42] Again, it is claimed that\nMexico was preparing to reopen the mines when Iturbide fell in 1823.\n[43]\n\nBut with the evidence at hand it would be idle to go further into the\nhistory of the mines. All that I myself know is what I have read in and\nof Miranda\u2019s reports; and these reports were the propaganda of an\nambitious promotion seeker, made before, not after, practical\nexploitation. The mines may have been worked consistently for a while.\nThey may have paid. According to one report in the Miranda documents,\nthe ore assayed eleven ounces to the pound. [44] Hunter says that a\nreport made in 1812 by Don Ignacio Obregon, who signed himself\n\u201cInspector Real de las Minas,\u201d announced an analysis of $1680 to the\nton; [45] but this Don Ignacio\u2019s reports of assays have been only a\nlittle less ubiquitous than peddled charts. [46] According to a recent\nUnited States Government report, the Llano country shows no evidence of\ngold or silver in paying quantities. [47]\n\nIt is true that Miranda was ordered to take thirty mule loads of ore to\nMexico to be carefully assayed. According to some traditions, all the\nore of Texas mines was transported to Mexico to be smelted; on the\nother hand, the ruins of sundry smelters have been reported by hunters\nfor the mines. The point is that a great many legends about\n\u201cseventeen,\u201d \u201cthirty,\u201d or \u201cforty jack loads\u201d of buried bullion may have\nbeen derived from the actual transportation of a pack train of crude\nore.\n\n\n\nII\n\nWhere history is doubtful, legend is assured; and a volume of the most\nengrossing narratives might easily be compiled on the Almagres Mine.\nThe legend, in its color, variety, and luxuriance, has reached into the\nliterature of England and continental Europe, [48] reverted with\nthousand-fold increase to the Mexican land of its birth, and flourished\nin the camps, households, and offices of a century of American cowboys,\nrangers, miners, farmers, bankers, lawyers, preachers, and newspaper\nwriters of the Southwest; entering, on one hand, into professed\nfiction, [49] and on the other hand, leading hundreds of men into the\ngrave business of disemboweling mountains, draining lakes, and turning\nrivers out of their courses.\n\nIt is a great pity for the sake of romance that we have no biography of\nBowie such as we have of Crockett. James Bowie must have been a\ncolorful and spirited soldier of fortune as well as free-hearted\npatriot. We know that he was a successful slave runner. We know that in\nthe early twenties he and his brother Rezin P. Bowie came to San\nAntonio and that from the beginning he had one eye open for a quick\nfortune. According to Sowell, he prospected for gold and silver on the\nFrio River. [50] He must have been rather credulous, as is natural to\nmen with untrained imagination and bounding lust for adventure. Witness\nhis precipitate action in the so-called \u201cGrass Fight.\u201d [51] While he\nwas in hot-headed quest of the San Saba Mine, he engaged in one of the\nmost brilliant Indian fights of early days. [52] Thousands of men have\nbelieved and yet believe that he knew where untold riches lie. He died\nin the Alamo, carrying with him a secret as potent to render him\nimmortal as his brave part in achieving the independence of Texas.\n\nI shall now briefly sketch Colonel Bowie\u2019s connection with the mine\nthat bears his name. My information is based somewhat on Hunter\u2019s\npamphlet, but I have heard the legend in a dozen different forms and\nshall attempt nothing more than an amalgamation.\n\n\u201cIn the first place,\u201d says West Burton of Austin, a most persistent\nseeker for the mine, \u201cnever be fooled into thinking that there is any\nsuch thing as the Bowie Mine. You can follow a lead if you hit it and\nlocate any mine, but there is not any lead to the so-called Bowie Mine.\nThat wasn\u2019t a mine at all, but a storage for bullion taken from the San\nSaba or Los Almagres mines proper. Remember that the Spanish fort on\nthe San Saba was destroyed three times and that the Indians were on the\nwarpath constantly. Under such conditions, a strong and secure place\nhad to be found for storing the bullion as it was smelted out. That\nplace was somewhere on the Llano. In it were stored five hundred jack\nloads of silver bullion when the Indians ran the Spanish out the last\ntime and destroyed the mines. It was that storage that the Lipans\nshowed to Bowie and that he tried to get.\u201d\n\nOver the Llano region roamed and ruled a band of Lipans. Their chief\nwas named Xolic, and for a long time he was in the habit of leading his\npeople down to San Antonio every year to trade off some of the bullion\nthey had captured from the Spaniards. They never took much at a time,\nfor their wants were simple. The Spaniards and Mexicans in San Antonio\nthought that the ore had been chipped off some rich vein; there was a\nlittle gold in it. Of course they tried to learn the source of such\nwealth, but the Indians had a tribal understanding that whoever should\nreveal the place of the mineral should be bound and tortured to death.\nNo Lipan broke his agreement. At length the people of San Antonio grew\naccustomed to the silver-bearing Lipans and ceased to try to enter\ntheir secret. Then came the curious Americans.\n\nBowie laid his plans carefully. He at once began to cultivate the\nfriendship of the Lipans. He sent back East for a fine rifle plated\nwith silver. When it came he presented it to old Chief Xolic. A powwow\nwas held and Bowie was invited to join the tribe. Formally, by the San\nPedro Springs, he was adopted into it. Now followed months of life with\nthe savages. Bowie was expert at shooting the buffalo; he was foremost\nin fighting against the enemies of the Lipans; some say that he married\nthe chief\u2019s daughter. He became so thoroughly a Lipan and was so useful\na warrior that his adopted brothers finally showed him the source of\ntheir precious mineral. He had expected much but he had hardly expected\nto see millions. The sight seemed to overthrow all caution and\njudgment. Almost immediately he deserted the Indians and returned to\nSan Antonio to raise a force for seizing the treasure.\n\nHe was between two fires. He did not want too large a body of men to\nshare with; he must have a considerable body to force the Indians. He\ntook some time in arranging the campaign. Meanwhile old Chief Xolic\ndied, and a young warrior named Tresmanos succeeded to his position.\nSoon afterwards he came with his people to San Antonio on their annual\nbartering trip. There he saw Bowie, accused him of treachery, and came\nnear being killed for his insolence. The time was at hand for Bowie to\nstart on his campaign. Thirty-four men had promised to accompany him.\nIn actuality, only ten put in their appearance, among whom were his\nbrother Rezin P. Bowie and a negro slave. The fewness of numbers,\nhowever, did not deter him. He was determined to reach the site of the\nmineral\u2014whether smelted bullion or natural veins of crude ore legend\ndoes not agree\u2014and to establish a stockade there and proceed with\nexploitation.\n\nSome distance north of San Antonio in the hills he met a friendly band\nof Indians who warned him that Tresmanos was on the warpath against him\nand his rumored invasion. Bowie pressed on. November 21, 1831, near\nCalf Creek, in what is now McCulloch County, the little party was\nattacked at sunrise by 164 Indians. The Texans had one man killed and\ntwo wounded and all their horses lost; the Indians, according to their\nown subsequent report, had eighty men killed besides a great number\nwounded. In 1905, Hunter described the remains of the barricade hastily\nconstructed by the Bowie party as being \u201cstill traceable,\u201d and added\nthat the barricade \u201cwould be almost intact but for the hand of the\nimpious treasure seeker.\u201d\n\nIt is generally said that the battle of Calf Creek marked Bowie\u2019s last\nattempt to get to the San Saba Mine, and that the remaining few years\nof his life were taken up with the duties of a patriot. According to\none legend current in the San Saba country, on the word of Mr. Carlos\nAshley, a native, Bowie was seeking the San Saba treasure in order to\nfinance the Texas army. This is the patriotic theme also of a Texas\nnovel in which Bowie is the hero: William O. Stoddard\u2019s The Lost Gold\nof the Montezumas\u2014A Story of the Alamo. Mr. Matt Bradley, editor and\npublisher of Border Wars of Texas, says that only three months before\nBowie fell in the Alamo he was trying again to reach the riches of\nwhich he alone among white men knew the secret. [53] Some years ago a\nman named Longworth, who is now in Kansas, paid a Mexican in San\nAntonio $500 for a document purporting to have been taken off Bowie\u2019s\nbody by a Mexican lieutenant who entered the Alamo immediately after\nthe last defender had been silenced. The Mexican who sold the document\nclaimed that lieutenant as a paternal ancestor. He swore that it gave\ndirections to the mine, but somehow Longworth could not follow them.\n\nThus we see that, in fact, Bowie had nothing more to do with the mine\nthan to hunt it. But because he was its greatest hunter and because he\nis presumed to have found it, his name has come to be linked with it.\nHowever, this linking is of a comparatively recent time. I doubt if the\nname \u201cBowie Mine\u201d was used at all until after the Civil War. All the\nearlier histories and books of travel that mention the mines\u2014and they\nare many\u2014refer to them as the San Saba Mines. \u201cBowie Mine\u201d is a popular\ncoinage of the last half century, and now the legend of the mine is\nliving to no small extent by virtue of the legend of the man.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nWe have seen that the San Saba presidio was fifty miles or more away\nfrom the mines it is supposed to have protected. Not all lost mine\nhunters, by any means, have agreed with Dr. Bolton in locating the\nmine, or mines, on Honey Creek. It has been located now on the Llano,\nnow on the San Saba, up and down, across and beyond. Many hunters\nassert that numerous mines were scattered over a wide belt extending in\na general way from the Colorado westward along the courses of the Llano\nand San Saba to the Nueces canyon, El Ca\u00f1on, as the Spanish called it.\n[54] A vast part of the bullion buried in Texas legends is supposed to\nhave come from the mines in this area.\n\nSome of the early Texas writers credulous of mineral deposits in the\nstate have had an immense influence on hunters for the San Saba Mines,\nwho are often readers of old and out of the way books. These hunters\nargue that as the early writers were nearer the sources of history than\ntheir skeptical successors, they must be more reliable.\n\nAn article from the now stilled pen of John Warren Hunter recently\nappeared in the Frontier Times (Bandera, Texas), detailing a few of the\nenterprises that have been undertaken to recover the San Saba Mine. I\nquote from the article: [55]\n\n\n    \u201cThe poor, credulous tramp prospector has not been alone led off by\n    the lure of the Lost Mine.... Ben F. Gooch, a one-time wealthy\n    stockman at Mason, was so sure that he had found the Bowie Mine\n    that he spent $1500 sinking a shaft that is yet pointed out as\n    \u2018Gooch\u2019s Folly.\u2019 A judge of the Supreme Court spent $500 in another\n    hole near Menard. W. T. Burnum invested $1500 in machinery with\n    which he pumped out a cave on the divide north of the old mission.\n    Failing to find the coveted mine at this place, he moved the\n    machinery and pumped out a small artificial lake just above the\n    town of Menard.... The Spanish had created this lake for a\n    purpose.... The Almagres Mine entrance was at the bottom of the\n    lake, which had been flooded by the Spaniards at the last moment.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOST GOLD OF THE LLANO COUNTRY\n\nBy E. G. Littlejohn\n\n\nThe first of these two legends is adapted from an account signed \u201cS. S.\nP.\u201d that appeared in the Galveston News years ago. It is attributed to\none of the rangers who made the find. The second legend appeared in the\nGalveston News also, signed by Nancy Evans Bower, of Cherokee, Texas,\nwho got it direct from Medlin.\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE BROOK OF GOLD DISCOVERED BY LOST RANGERS\n\nBack in the early \u201940\u2019s the main camp of McCulloch\u2019s rangers was\nlocated in Hamilton\u2019s Valley on the Colorado. From this point they\nscouted far and wide against hostile Indians. While two of the rangers\nwere out on one such scouting expedition, their horses got away during\nthe night, and in attempting to find them next morning they got lost\nthemselves in a dense fog that enveloped the hills and valleys. They\nwandered all day in a vain attempt to regain their camp. It was hot\nsummer, in a time of long drouth, and they were in a region utterly\ndevoid of water. When night came they lay down, suffering from hunger\nand thirst. The next morning they struck out early, hoping to \u201cfind\nthemselves\u201d before the heat of the day came on, or at least to find\nsome water. But though they climbed many rugged hills to view the land,\nevery prospect was desolate and unfamiliar.\n\nAt length, from the summit of a low range of hills, they discovered a\nnarrow green valley, and down it, by a line of green trees, they traced\nthe course of a mountain brook. Descending, they soon stood on the\nbanks of a stream of clear water, which danced over a pebbly bottom of\nfine, almost pure white gravel, with here and there shallow pools\nsparkling under the noon-day sun. Here they rested and refreshed\nthemselves, lying flat upon the margin and taking long draughts of the\ncrystal waters.\n\nAs one of the rangers, after the first pangs of his thirst were\nsatisfied, lay looking into the sparkling waters, he was startled to\ndiscover that the entire bottom was strewn with minute shining\nparticles. Calling to his companion, he said: \u201cWe have lost our horses,\nsaddles, and guns, but here is something better. Here is gold, gold,\nworld without end!\u201d The particles, which were as thick among the sand\nand gravel as if sown by the handful, were yellow like gold and of the\nsize of very coarse corn bran.\n\nBefore leaving the place, the rangers gathered a quantity of the yellow\nparticles and tied them up in a handkerchief. On their way out they\nstopped to rest high up on the western shoulder of a long, rugged hill.\nHere they discovered in the fork of a stunted live oak tree an ancient\nrust-eaten pick, its handle gone, and one end so encased in the growth\nof the tree that the pick could not be removed. The other end pointed\ntoward the head of the little stream they had left. Then they realized\nthat they were not the first to have discovered the gold mine, but that\nsome prospector, overtaken perhaps by sudden death, had left his mark.\nLate in the afternoon the scouts saw looming in the distance Packsaddle\nMountain on the Llano, and from this well-known landmark they found\ntheir bearings and were soon safely back in McCulloch\u2019s camp at\nHamilton\u2019s Valley.\n\nLater they exhibited their bandana of gold in the village of San\nMarcos. A man there versed in the subject of minerals pronounced it\nvirgin gold and said that it was what miners knew as \u201cdrift gold,\u201d\nwhich had been washed downstream from a mother lode. That mother lode,\nhe said, might be miles away, but wherever it was it must be\nexceedingly rich. On many a long tramp and ride in after years the\nrangers sought the golden pool, but they never found it again. The mute\nfinger of the old pick on the mountain side perhaps still points to the\nspot where the lost mine may be found, and the grim hills of the Llano\ncountry still stand silent guard over the secret of their hidden\nwealth.\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE SMELTER ON THE LITTLE LLANO\n\nIn the early part of the last century mining parties composed\nprincipally of Mexicans, but usually led by two or more white men, were\nquite common in the mineral belt of Texas. The mining was carried on\nunder great difficulties and in a crude way. The country was a\nwilderness inhabited only by roving bands of hostile Indians and wild\nanimals. The only means of transportation were the small Mexican\nburros. Panniers made of cowhide and packed with provisions, tools, and\nother necessaries of the miners, were strapped to the backs of these\npatient, docile little animals. After the furnace was constructed, the\nburros conveyed ore from the mine to the furnace.\n\nThe mineral was buried as it came from the smelter, for no one knew at\nwhat moment the Indians might sweep down. It was also a rule among the\nminers, when moving or returning to the settlements, to bury their\nmineral treasure at night and build their campfire over it, thus having\nit securely hidden in case of an attack by the Indians.\n\nIn the year 1865 an ancient man came to San Saba County in search of an\nold furnace. After searching for it alone for several days, he confided\nto some ranchmen in the vicinity that in 1834 he and another white man\nand thirty-five Mexicans were engaged in mining near the Little Llano\nRiver. They had found, he said, a rich mine and had taken out 1200\npounds of gold and silver, which they buried together with $500 in\nMexican silver coin. It was their custom to conceal the opening to the\nmine after conveying a month\u2019s supply to the furnace. They had just\ncompleted a month\u2019s run and were preparing to return to the mine for\nanother supply when the Indians swooped down upon them, killing all\nexcept the two white men and a Mexican girl, who were at the spring\nsome distance from the furnace.\n\nThe stranger went on to say that the treasure was buried on a high hill\nhalf a mile due north from the furnace; that seventy-five yards from\nthe furnace, in a direct line between the furnace and the spot where\nthe treasure was buried, stood a pin oak tree, in a knot hole of which\na rock had been driven. He offered $500 to anyone who would guide him\nto the furnace. Some half-dozen men turned out to assist in the search,\nbut it proved fruitless. He then informed the ranchmen that he and his\npartner and the Mexican girl, after their escape from the Indians, made\ntheir way to Mexico, where they filed a chart of the mine in the\nMexican archives, as was required by the laws of Mexico, of which Texas\nwas at that time a part. A copy of the chart was retained by his\npartner, who was then (1865) living in St. Louis, he having married the\nMexican girl. The old man then started on a long overland ride to St.\nLouis to induce his partner to aid him in the search for the treasure\nburied in 1834. A short time afterwards it was learned that while he\nwas mounting his horse in Williamson County, his gun was accidentally\ndischarged, killing him instantly.\n\nNo further attempt was made to locate the furnace till 1878, when a man\nnamed Medlin, hearing the story, engaged to herd sheep for a ranchman\nwhose ranch was situated in that section of the country. Every day\nwhile herding sheep he prosecuted his search for the furnace. Within\nthe year his search was rewarded with success. He found the ruins of\nthe old furnace, the spring, the tree with the rock in the knot hole,\nand also the high hill half a mile due north, but he did not find the\ntreasure.\n\nHe did find, however, on digging into the furnace, the skeleton of a\nman, and by its side a \u201cminer\u2019s spoon\u201d made of burnt soapstone, used\nfor amalgamating minerals with quicksilver. Nancy Evans Bower, who told\nthis story in the News, says that Medlin, while showing her the spoon,\ntold her the story substantially as related above. Shortly afterwards\nMedlin left for South America. She, too, from Medlin\u2019s description,\nfound the furnace and the tree with the rock in the knot hole. She\nbelieves that the story is true; that the treasure is there; and that\nanyone who will take the trouble to procure a copy of the chart from\nthe archives of Mexico can easily find it.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOST MINES OF THE LLANO AND SAN SABA\n\nBy Julia Estill\n\n\nI\n\nA LEGEND OF THE BLANCO MINE\n\n[There seems to be some dispute as to whether or not the famed Blanco\nreally existed. Tradition has it that the Blanco River was named for\nhim. However, Z. T. Fulmore in his History and Geography of Texas as\nTold in County Names, page 270, says that the name Blanco, which means\nwhite, \u201cwas given to that stream\u201d because it flows \u201calmost its entire\nlength through a white, chalky limestone region.\u201d Almost the same story\nas that related here is told concerning the Bowie Mine. One treasure\nhunter told me of \u201cthe magic circle,\u201d which is reproduced herewith, as\nbelonging to the Bowie Mine, and in my possession are copies of letters\nfrom the R. J. Roland referred to by Miss Estill, describing the site\nof the Bowie Mine.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nSome time before the Mexican War, a Mexican, Blanco by name, discovered\na silver and lead mine somewhere in the Llano country, so the story\ngoes. My grandfather, J. W. Wiley, a pioneer of this section of Texas,\nnow an old gentleman of eighty-four, declares that he has been on the\nverge of discovering the lost mine several times. Even now, he is\ncertain, were he in the hill country and given leave by his \u201ctyrannical\nrelatives\u201d to climb Packsaddle Mountain alone, he could go to the very\nspot where the richest vein of silver and lead ore in Texas lies\nhidden.\n\nPacksaddle Mountain is in Llano County near Kingsland, close to the\njunction of the Colorado and the Llano rivers in the red granite\nsection of Texas. The mine is said to be in a cave somewhere on or near\nPacksaddle.\n\nMany years ago, a man by the name of R. J. Roland found the mine, but\nin order to conceal its whereabouts he placed a huge flat stone over\nthe entrance and covered the stone with loose soil, which in time\nbecame so overgrown with grass that no one has been able to locate it.\nRoland, however, was careful to leave his own marks so that at any time\nhe might return to take from his treasure cave all the ore he wanted.\n\nOne day he did return with a pal named Chaney, who was so anxious to\nlocate the mine that he offered Roland one thousand dollars if he would\ndisclose the secret.\n\nIt was agreed. The two men wandered over Packsaddle searching in vain.\nFinally, Chaney, becoming weary and impatient, told Roland emphatically\nthat he was \u201ctired of foolin\u2019\u201d; and his wary companion answered, \u201cShow\nme the money, and I\u2019ll show you the mine!\u201d\n\nChaney, however, refused to produce the price unless he was shown the\nwhereabouts of the mine; whereupon Roland turned shortly on his heel,\nand saying tersely, \u201cGo to hell!\u201d strode angrily down the mountain\ntrail.\n\nThat night Roland spent with Mr. Wyatt, on old pioneer living in a\ncabin surrounded by cedars in a gap at the foot of Packsaddle. Of\ncourse, the guest related the incident to his host that evening as they\nsmoked their pipes by the huge fireplace. And when it was time to \u201cturn\nin,\u201d Roland rose nonchalantly from his seat by the dying embers and,\nwearily stretching his arms to their full length while yawning\nportentously, drawled: \u201cAnd do ye know, Mr. Wyatt, at the very time I\ntole Chaney to hand me over them thousand dollars, I was a-standin\u2019\nright on top uv that there mine!\u201d\n\nA day or so after the stranger\u2019s departure, Mr. Wyatt climbed\nPacksaddle. In his explorations he found a cave with a wild animal skin\nupon the floor. In the center of the cave on the skin lay a huge nugget\nof silver.\n\nNeedless to say, mining enthusiasts who were let into the secret came\nfrom far and near to search for the lost mine; but, to this day, no one\nhas discovered the hidden vein of metal.\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE MYTHICAL BOWIE MINE\n\nIn the fall of 1876, when my father, J. T. Estill, and a lawyer friend,\nD. Y. Portis, who had both been attending district court in Mason, were\non their way in a two-horse buggy to court in Menardville, Mr. Portis\nrelated to my father \u201cthe true story\u201d of the fabulous Bowie Mine. Mr.\nPortis, an elderly man of perhaps seventy years, was a typical old\nSouthland planter who owned a large farm in Brazoria County. He was a\nlearned man and splendid at repartee; so the two companions, jogging\nslowly along the long trail to Menard, kept up a lively conversation;\nwhile now and then the woods resounded with their hearty laughter.\n\nAbout fifteen miles from Mason, the soil suddenly changes from a light\ncolor to a deep red; and, as the travelers approached this \u201cdivide,\u201d\nfather remarked: \u201cThis is the beginning of the Red Hill region of the\nSan Saba. We must be in the neighborhood of the old Bowie Mine.\u201d\n\nQuick as a flash his companion answered: \u201cThe Bowie Mine is all a myth.\nI was personally acquainted with a man who, I knew, had been with Bowie\non his expedition into the San Saba hills. One evening when a crowd of\nus young fellows were smoking our pipes around the fire, this old\nadventurer related unusually marvelous tales of the Bowie Mine and its\nrich silver ore, which, he said, could just be \u2018hacked off with a\nhatchet.\u2019 The entire crowd became wild with enthusiasm in consequence\nof his tales, and immediately resolved to fit out an expedition to\nsearch for the lost mine. Wagons, teams, and supplies to last several\nmonths were gathered, guards were hired to protect us from the Indians,\nand we set out confidently to seek the mine.\u201d\n\nAbout this time my father and Mr. Portis reached a place on the road\noverlooking the valley of the San Saba River; whereupon Mr. Portis\nexpressed surprise that the country had changed so little and pointed\nout several places where the searching party had camped. Presently he\ncontinued: \u201cThe old guide would tell our party where to camp; and when\ncamp had been pitched, he would go out into the woods, sometimes\nremaining all day, presumably hunting for the lost mine. Then we would\nmove and the search would begin all over again.\n\n\u201cThus the search continued for four or five days without any results.\nFinally, the party concluded either that the old man knew nothing\nwhatever of the Bowie Mine, or that he would not tell. So the leaders\nof the expedition took him aside and forcibly expressed their opinions\nto him, saying that now if he knew where the mine was located, he must\ntell them\u2014or hang.\n\n\u201cThe old guide then broke down and cried: \u2018There is no Bowie Mine! It\nis true that I was with Bowie on his expedition into the hill country,\nbut, candidly, we found no mine. The Indians attacked our party, and I\nwas one of the few that escaped. Then I commenced telling the story of\nthe fabulous mine. And I\u2019ve told it so often that I have actually got\nto believing it myself. Gentlemen, I have told you the truth. Hang me\nif you will.\u2019\n\n\u201cNeedless to say, the foolish young silver seekers returned to the\nBrazos bottom, disappointed, yet determined never to tell of their\nfailure to find the famous Bowie Mine.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTREASURE LEGENDS OF McMULLEN COUNTY\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nHere are some sixteen legends out of a comparatively small section of\none county. They will illustrate the fertility in buried treasure\nlegend of all that stretch of Texas, for the most part yet unploughed,\nlying towards the Rio Grande and populated by Mexicans and by Texans of\nfrontier stock. McMullen County itself has as yet neither railroad nor\nbank. The people are as yet unhackneyed by the plow or commercial\nsecretary. They still talk a language seasoned with Mexican idiom and\nhonest with the soil\u2019s honesty; they have their old-time dances; they\nwelcome heartily any decent stranger. On the whole, they are as\nenlightened as the populations that have their ideals molded by real\nestate agents. Just now oil boomers and railroad promoters threaten to\nbring their \u201cprogress.\u201d Until they bring it, the people will remain\nindividual.\n\n\n\nTHE ROCK PENS\n\nExcepting the Bowie Mine and the Nigger Gold Mine, no other purported\nlost treasure in Southwest Texas has caused so much discussion or\nenticed so many seekers as that of the \u201cRock Pens.\u201d These \u201cPens\u201d are\nvariously placed in Live Oak, La Salle, and McMullen counties,\ngenerally in McMullen. The \u201cway-bill\u201d quoted below was given me by Mr.\nE. M. Dubose of Mathis, Texas, who has spent months, perhaps years, in\ntrying to follow out its directions. Many of the details as I give them\nare also due to him, but the legend has been so familiar to me from my\nchildhood up that I can hardly say to whom I owe it.\n\nThe story is that thirty-one mule loads of silver bullion, together\nwith various fine images and other precious articles, were being\nbrought from the mountains of Mexico by Texas bandits who had made a\ngreat robbery. They had crossed the Rio Grande in safety and were\nproceeding north to their rendezvous at San Antonio when they found\nthat the Indians were closing in on them in the rough country west or\nsouth\u2014for the river often changes its course\u2014of the Nueces. They knew\nthat an attack was imminent, and they picked the best place they could\nfind in which to make their stand. It was by a small ravine in which\nwas a spring of water, and here they threw up some crude breastworks in\nthe form of two rock pens. In one of the pens they buried the bullion,\nand then, in order to hide all signs of their secret work, they ran the\nmules around and around over the disturbed earth. The fight soon\nfollowed, and in it all of the Texans but one are supposed to have been\nkilled. He, Daniel Dunham, on his deathbed in Austin, fifty-one years\nago, dictated the following \u201cway-bill.\u201d\n\n\n                                                           Austin Texas\n                                                        April 17th 1873\n\n    About six or seven miles below the Laredo Crossing, on the west\n    side of the Nueces River near the hills, there is or was a tree in\n    the prairie. Due west from that tree at the foot of the hills at\n    the mouth of a ravine there is a large rock and under the rock,\n    there was a small spring of water coming from under the rock, due\n    east from that rock there is a rock pen or rocks laid around like a\n    pen and due east a few yards there is another pen of rocks, in that\n    pen is the spoils of thirty one mule loads.\n\n        [Signed] DANIEL DUNHAM\n\n\nThis remarkable document was at his death, which occurred during the\neighties, in the possession of a man named X. He had shown it to his\nsons a few times, but there was an accompanying paper that he had never\nshown. This accompanying paper he destroyed shortly before his death,\nor else his wife destroyed it immediately thereafter. One of his own\nsons conjectured, and certain circumstances have led others to\nconjecture, that X himself was one of the Texas bandits who invaded the\nMexican mines and robbed a rich Mexican church. It is known that X held\nthe way-bill as peculiarly veracious but that he had an overwhelming\nfeeling against undertaking to follow out its directions.\n\nWhether any attempts to find the Rock Pens were made before his death I\ndo not know. A fact is that not long after his death an expedition, of\nwhich one of his sons was a member, set out to find the pens. Other\n\u201cgold hunters\u201d are known to have gone on the search. Therefore it must\nbe that there were other directions in existence than those left by X.\nMen yet living claim to have seen the pens years and years ago before\nthey knew that there was any significance to them, but though various\nold rock heaps have been found since, none has ever been found to\nanswer to Daniel Dunham\u2019s description.\n\nThe Laredo Crossing mentioned in the way-bill is supposed to be the\nNueces crossing on the old San Antonio-Laredo road. That is generally\nconceded to be on the Henry Shiner Ranch in McMullen County. Nearly all\nthe land in that part of the country is still in large pastures. Much\nof it is rough, the San Caja, Las Chuzas, and other so-called mountains\nbeing in the vicinity. Where it was once open, the country during the\nlast fifty years has grown up in brush so that no man can be sure the\npens do not exist until thousands and thousands of acres of uneven land\ncovered with prickly pear, mesquite, black chaparral, \u201cgran haney,\u201d and\nother thorned brush have been combed. The rocks were never piled high.\nThey have been scattered, perhaps covered over with soil washed down\nfrom the hillside. In time of drouth it is a desolate country, and many\na tale tells of early travelers perishing in it of thirst. Before the\nadvent of the automobile one treasure-seeking expedition lived for days\non jack rabbit meat, so remote were they in that region from supplies.\n\nSixty or seventy years ago Pate McNeill was coming from Tilden, or Dog\nTown as it was then called, down to Lagarto with his young wife. They\nwere in a buggy, leading a horse, saddled. Somewhere in the Shiner\ncountry they saw a fine looking maverick cow. McNeill got out of the\nbuggy, jumped on his horse, and took after her. When he had roped her\nand tied her, he looked around and saw that he was right in a kind of\npen of rocks. At that time he did not know that great riches\nappertained to rock pens; so he calmly ran his famous brand of P A T E\non the cow and went on down the country. Years later when the story of\nthe Rock Pens came out, he went back and tried to locate the rocks, but\nthe country had changed so much with brush and \u201cwashes\u201d that he could\nnever find anything.\n\n\u201cUncle\u201d Ben Adkins, a veteran of Beeville who guarded the western\nfrontier during the Civil War days to keep cow thieves from driving\ncattle off to California, tells of a hunter who once stumbled into the\npens and thought that he was in a deserted goat camp. Like others, he\ndid not know at the time how close he was to millions.\n\nPete Staples, an old negro trail driver, tells how, when he was once\nhunting wild turkeys with Judge Lowe of McMullen County, they stumbled\ninto some curiously placed rocks. \u201cHuh, what\u2019s this?\u201d he said. \u201cLooks\nmighty funny to me for rocks in this place. Where\u2019d they all cum from\nand how cum this way? Ain\u2019t no other rocks like thesen for a mile.\u201d\n\n\u201cNatural rocks all right,\u201d said Judge Lowe, \u201cbut this is an old pen.\u201d\nJudge Lowe died something more than a year ago. I have heard that he\nafterwards tried to find the pens, but failed. Pete, having a firm\nconviction that it is dangerous to \u201cmonkey\u201d with money that some man\nnow dead buried, has never been back to look for the pens, though he\ndeclares that men have tried to hire him as a guide and that he could\nfind them, but \u201cain\u2019t a-guine to.\u201d The pens, according to Pete, are in\nthe Guidan Pasture, which joins the Shiner and comprises some twenty or\nthirty thousand acres of land.\n\nAnother time, a good many years earlier, says Pete, a Mexican who was\nbeing chased by an Indian in the Las Chuzas country leaped over a\nspring of water and as he leaped saw a bar of silver shining in it.\nLater he went back and hunted for six months without ever finding the\nspring, much less the silver. It does look, as Pete expresses it, as if\nthat money \u201cain\u2019t meant\u201d for any of the people who have looked for it.\nWhen the man comes along for whom it is \u201cmeant,\u201d he will just naturally\nfind it without even trying. Nevertheless, some people are still\ntrying.\n\nThe cheering thing about looking for the Rock Pens is that even though\nthe search for them be fruitless, one may stumble upon some other\ntreasure at almost any time, for the whole San Caja Mountain country is\nrich in lost and buried treasure. Some of the legends follow. For much\nof the material I am indebted to that interesting tale-teller and\none-time eager treasure-hunter, Mr. E. M. Dubose, of Mathis, already\nreferred to. For material not derived from him I try to give specific\nsources. However, some of it is such common talk in the country and has\nfor so long been a part of me that I cannot always cite exact sources.\n\n\n\nA WEEK TOO LATE AT THE LAREDO-SAN ANTONIO CROSSING\n\nNeal Russell was out with two other cowpunchers on the Nueces River.\nThey had extra mounts and a pack outfit and were well supplied. One day\nwhile they were hunting cattle they came up on two very old Mexicans.\nThe Mexicans looked scared and acted peculiarly, but they were so old\nand worn and thin that Russell paid little attention to their secret\nmanner. Finding that they were out of something to eat, he told them\nwhere camp was and invited them up for a fill and a rest.\n\nWell, after Russell and his men had come in and waited around a while,\nthe Mexicans appeared. They ate and then, evidently feeling at ease\nwith the Texans, who were talking Mexican like natives, they asked if\nanyone knew where the old San Antonio and Laredo crossing was.\n\n\u201cWhy, yes,\u201d replied Russell, \u201cit is not two hundred yards from here,\nright down the river. I\u2019ll show it to you in the morning.\u201d\n\nThe Mexicans now seemed to think that they had as well take the Texans\ninto confidence, and what seemed the older of the two made this\nexplanation. \u201cI was through this country the last time in 1836. I was\nwith a small detachment of the Mexican army taking a load of money to\nSan Antonio to pay off General Cos\u2019s men. We had gotten a day\u2019s ride\nnorth of here when we heard by courier of Santa Anna\u2019s defeat. We knew\nthat it was foolish to go on and so turned back, expecting at any hour\nto hear the Texans coming up on us. Just before we reached the east\nside of the Nueces, the front axle of our wagon broke square in two.\nThere wasn\u2019t anything to do but to cut a tree down and from a post hew\ninto shape another axle. We managed to pull out of the road a little\nway, and set to work.\n\n\u201cAs I told you, we were expecting the Texans at any time. As a\nprecaution against their coming we dug a hole right beside the wagon.\nThen we went off a way and cut two posts, in case one turned out bad.\nAfter we had got them back to the wagon and were at work, we all at\nonce heard a galloping as if a whole troop of cavalry was coming down\nthe hills. Pronto, pronto (quickly, quickly), we threw the new logs\ninto the pit we had dug, spread a few skins down, piled the load of\ncoin into them, covered the pit up, turned the wagon upside down over\nthe fresh dirt, and set fire to it. It blazed up; we mounted our horses\nand rode westward. I don\u2019t know whether what we heard was Texas cavalry\nor not. I am inclined to think now that it must have been a herd of\nmustangs. Anyway, we left confident that signs of our digging would be\nwiped out by the fire and that the Texans would think we had burned our\nbaggage to keep it from falling into their hands.\n\n\u201cSo far as I know, I am the only survivor of that escort of Mexicans. I\nknow that no Mexican has ever been back to get the money. I am come now\nwith my old compadre to get it. You see how we are. We started out\npoorly prepared. Now we are afoot and without provisions. If you will\nhelp us, we will share with you.\u201d\n\nThe next morning, according to Russell, all five of the men started out\nwith the camp ax and spade. They went to the old crossing, then out a\nfew rods down the river. The old Mexican led them to a row of three\nlittle mounds\u2014the knolls common in that country along the river valley.\nBeyond those three knolls was a stump, and beyond the stump was another\nknoll.\n\n\u201cThat is the place,\u201d whispered the ancient Mexican. He was so eager\nthat he was panting for every word.\n\nThe white men rode on slowly, for the Mexicans were on foot and the\nolder was walking in a kind of stumble. When they got fairly around the\nmound, they saw a pile of fresh dirt. Pitched across it were two old\nlogs. Mesquite lasts a long time, you know, when it is under ground.\nThe men looked down into the hole. It was not very deep and apparently\nit had not been dug a week. The prints of the coins were yet plain on\nsome of the dirt, and a few tags of rotted skins were about.\n\nRussell said that the Mexicans did not say anything. They were a week\ntoo late. When he last saw them they were tottering back to Mexico with\nwhat provisions the cowboys could spare.\n\n\n\nTHE CHEST AT ROCK CROSSING ON THE NUECES\n\nGeneral Santa Anna was going from Laredo to Goliad. [56] While he was\nfording the Nueces at the old Rock Crossing in the Chalk Bluff Pasture,\nonce a part of the George West Ranch, the Rock Crossing being about\ntwelve miles below the Shiner Crossing, his \u201cpay cart\u201d broke down and a\nvery heavy iron chest filled with gold fell into the river. The river\nwas up; Santa Anna was in great haste to reach Goliad; there was little\ntravel in the country. He decided to leave the chest in the river; so\nhe had it chained to a tree, intending to get it on the way back, for\nhe expected to make short work of subduing the insurgent Texans.\n\nIn after years, Pate McNeill, the same man that tied down the maverick\nheifer in one of the Rock Pens, found a piece of chain tied around an\nelm tree on the east bank of the river. Still later Dubose found the\ntree bearing the marks of a chain, but the chain itself was gone.\nEncouraged by the markings, he, with Stonewall Jackson Wright and\nWright\u2019s brother-in-law, Albert Dinn, went to Beeville, about fifty\nmiles distant, and got a four-horse load of tongue-and-groove lumber.\nThey sank a shaft about eighteen feet deep in the middle of the river,\na little below the crossing itself, accounting for the push of water.\nThey were able to wall out the water but made poor way with the boiling\nquicksand.\n\nThe first night after the shaft had been started, Stonewall Jackson\nWright and Dinn got to arguing as to what disposition should be made of\nthe chest. Wright was in favor of taking it to his ranch, twenty or\nthirty miles down the country, before opening it. Dinn declared that he\nwould open it at once and that the prize should be divided then and\nthere. The argument waxed so hot that only Dubose\u2019s reminder that they\nhad not yet found the chest prevented a collision.\n\nThere is a possibility, some claim, that a part of Santa Anna\u2019s army\nmay have passed back over the same route and have taken the chest with\nthem. However, there is in existence a Mexican way-bill to the\ntreasure. Mr. Whitley of McMullen County says that the chest was buried\non the bank under a tree that had a limb straight out over the water,\nand that the chain around the tree trunk was a piece of log chain from\nan ox cart. But the tree caved in long ago, the water changed its\ncourse, and now there is no sign to go by, though doubtless the chest\nis somewhere in the vicinity of what is still known as Rock Crossing, a\nmere name, for it has been decades since a road ran that way.\n\n\n\nSAN CAJA MOUNTAIN LEGENDS\n\nThe name \u201cSan Caja\u201d is significant, though its meaning is in dispute.\nSome people who should know say that it means Holy, or Sainted, Box;\nthat the word caja, meaning box, alludes to the chest, or chests, of\ntreasure hid in the mountain. But a white man who is native to the San\nCaja country told me that a very old Mexican once told him that the\nname was originally Sin Caja, sin meaning without, and caja also\nmeaning coffin; hence, Without Coffin. [57] According to the Mexican,\nthe name was derived from the fact that a man had once been buried on\nor in the mountain without a coffin, perhaps not buried at all but left\nout in the open. Either interpretation is appropriate to the legends of\nthe mountain.\n\nUnder the mountain is a cave, the entrance to which is on the west side\nhalfway up the mountain. Mexican bandits who preyed on the wagon and\nmule trains that traveled the San Antonio-Laredo road were accustomed\nto ride their horses into that entrance. They had a great room\nunderground that they used for a stable. Back of it was their treasure\nroom, \u201cel aparto [apartado] del tesoro,\u201d in which were heaps of gold\nand silver coins, Spanish doubloons and old Mexican square dollars,\ngolden candle-sticks, silver-mounted and jewel-studded saddles, bits\nand spurs of precious workmanship, plated firearms, all manner of\ncostly plunder meant for the grandees and the cathedrals, as well as\nthe bullion of mines near at hand\u2014for there were rich mines in that\ncountry in the old days of the Spanish.\n\nAccording to Mexican tradition, after the bandidos had accumulated all\nthis treasure, a terrible dragon came and killed some of them and ran\nthe others away. The dragon had a spiked tail and two heads, and at\nnight one might see fire flashing out of his nostrils. He came to be\ncalled el celador del tesoro\u2014the warden of the treasure; and there are\nMexicans today who would not think of violating the premises that he\nstill guards.\n\nAn addition to the legend was told me by Mr. Whitley. Years ago, as he\nhad heard the story, a certain white man who bore the marks of a\nborderer was visiting the penitentiary at Huntsville when he suddenly\nheard himself called in Mexican. He paused. At his side appeared a\nMexican, begging to talk to him. The guard consented, and then in his\nown language the Mexican poured out his tale. [58] He was serving a\nlife sentence in the penitentiary, the sole survivor of a band of\nmurdering brigands. All their booty was still in a cave to the south of\nthe San Caja. If the white man would get it, he might have half, using\nthe other half to free the prisoner. He gave directions about as\nfollows: Go to the southeast side of the mountain; thence go about a\nmile to two little knobs, then on down a kind of ravine about the same\ndistance, where an opening will be found that enters into the booty\nhall. The white man set out to follow directions, but he was already\nold, and death overtook him before he could search out the treasure.\n\n\u201cThere are,\u201d says Mr. Whitley, \u201ctwo knobs on the southeast side of the\nmountain, but two miles down instead of one, which shows that a Mexican\nhas no sense of distance. In giving directions he always says un\n(s)pedacito\u2014a little piece\u2014which may mean a half mile or five miles.\u201d\nAnyhow, the country does not seem to fit the Mexican\u2019s measurements.\n\nTo the northwest of the San Caja are the San Cajitas (Little San\nCajas); where, according to Mr. Whitley, is another robbers\u2019 cave\nstored with fine saddles and other plunder left by Mexican bandidos. In\nit are ladders that were used to descend a hundred feet to the treasure\nfloor. But no man has since the days of the bandits been down into this\ncave. It is said to be \u201calive\u201d with rattlesnakes.\n\n\n\nWhile Joe Newberry was bossing a ranch \u201cdown in the Sands\u201d twenty-five\nyears ago, an old Mexican who was headed west to hunt for the Rock Pens\ngave him a chart to nine jack loads of silver bullion buried on top of\nthe San Caja, a certain number of pasos west of a chapote, or persimmon\ntree, and covered over with a great rock. The Mexicans who buried it\nwere on their way to the City of Mexico from up the Nueces canyon,\nwhere the Spanish operated mines long since lost. It was during a\nterrible drouth; the Nueces had dried up, and the travelers had missed\nfinding the lakes that they had vaguely heard of; they and their\nanimals were perishing of thirst, and they realized that their nearest\nwater was the Rio Grande seventy miles away across a desert of rocks\nand sands. To reach it they must lighten their loads as much as\npossible. Their mistake was in not having buried the bullion earlier,\nfor they were so exhausted and the way was so hard that all but one man\nperished in the attempt to reach the Great River. This solitary\nsurvivor for some reason did not return, but he made out a chart, which\nmust have been fairly well circulated, for another Mexican coming north\nin search of the famed Casa Blanca cache also had directions to this\nSan Caja treasure.\n\nDubose and his fellow explorers blasted a certain likely looking rock\noff and found under it a tinaja (rock hole) six feet deep, but no\nbullion in it.\n\nAccording to \u201cUncle\u201d Ben Adkins of Beeville, the San Caja treasure\nconsists of money that was buried by Mexicans who were on their way to\nSan Antonio. Just as they got to the Rock Crossing they heard that the\nMexican army was being slaughtered in the Alamo and turned back in such\nhaste that they left their precious freight on top of the loneliest\n\u201cmountain\u201d in Southwest Texas. A Mexican in Austin told me something\nlike the same tale. He said that a detachment reached the river in\nwinter time when a big rise was on, were unable to swim their\ntreasure-laden mules across the flood, and while they were waiting for\nthe waters to go down, heard that a band of Texans was close on their\nheels. They hastily took their freight to the mountain and left it\nthere.\n\nOn the south side of the San Caja are said to be two cowhides of gold\ndoubloons. Travelers out of the City of Mexico headed for the San\nAntonio missions lost their road and, perishing of thirst, began to\nlook for water in the tinajas and crevices of the rocks. They found a\nlittle, enough for themselves, but not any for their poor beasts, which\nwere in greater need than the men, for the men had had canteens of\nwater for a day or two this side of their last watering. The party\nreally had not traveled a great distance in coming from the Rio Grande,\nbut they had been wandering lost over a rough country for days, keeping\nno general direction. The burros finally played out and the Spaniards\nhid their cowhides of doubloons in a crevice and placed over them a\nflat rock on which they marked with pear-apple juice a red cross. Over\nthat they placed a second rock. Joe Newberry got the facts as to this\ntreasure from a Mexican bandit on the Rio Grande who had come over on\nthis side in hiding. Dubose actually found two flat rocks stacked up as\nif by hand, and under the first he found an Indian arrow-head, but\nnothing more.\n\n\n\nTHE MINES\n\nFive or six miles to the southwest of the San Caja, the Spanish are\nbelieved to have operated a silver mine by the name of Las Chuzas,\ncalled so from its proximity to Las Chuzas Mountains. In later times\nTexas pioneers found that Indian bullets lodged in the spokes and\nfelloes of their wagons were almost pure silver, and the Indians are\nsupposed to have got their material for bullets from the Chuzas ore.\nThe Indians would never tell where they got it. While Dubose and a man\nnamed Wallace McNeill were riding the country in quest of the Rock Pens\nthey found the shaft of the mine at the foot of one of the Chuzas\nMountains. That shaft is said to be lined with silver bars covered over\nwith clay, but as the men were looking for the \u201cthirty-one mule loads\u201d\nand fully expected to find them, they did not investigate the shaft.\n\nSome ten miles away, in the Guidan Pasture, and about six miles from\nthe Nueces River, is what is known as the Devil\u2019s Water Hole, and there\nthe smelter is supposed to have been located. Burnt rocks to this day\nevidence its existence. In the vicinity of White Creek, in the\nfoothills below the Devil\u2019s Water Hole, were some other silver mines\nthat used the same smelter.\n\nSomewhere between the old Las Chuzas Mine and the Nueces River there is\nsaid to be a pile of silver bullion, crude, unformed, in the very hue\nand shape of the rocks around. How it came there or why, nobody knows.\nIt just came there, so the Mexicans still say.\n\nFifteen or twenty miles beyond the San Caja in a westerly direction on\nwhat is now known as Los Picachos (The Peaks) Ranch, an early settler\nnamed Crier, according to John Murphy, a ranchman of the vicinity,\nactually used to operate a silver mine that yielded about twenty\ndollars to the ton of ore.\n\n\n\nLOMA DE SIETE PIEDRAS\n\nIn the same general direction from the San Caja as Los Picachos is the\nLoma de Siete Piedras, or Seven Rocks Hill, on which the Mills Ranch is\nlocated. Near this hill, as I have the tale from Mr. Whitley, the Mills\nboys unearthed some human bones while digging post holes. They\nthemselves had never dug for treasure, for though they had always heard\nthat there was treasure stored away somewhere in their country, they\nhad never been able to get the details that would guide them to it.\n\nNaturally they talked of the rather unusual find, and not long after\nthe event a gang of eleven or twelve Mexicans rode up to the Mills\nRanch. Now, the San Caja country is in all ways a border country, and\nin many places one can cross the Rio Grande without meeting a river\nguard or seeing a customs officer; nowadays it is the rendezvous of\ntequilleros and mescaleros with their smuggled liquor from the other\nside. When the Mills boys saw the horses that the Mexican gang were\nriding, they knew at once from the brands that they were smuggled; and\nthe saddles, ropes, bits, and other paraphernalia showed that the\nriders were fresh from old Mexico.\n\nThe spokesman of the band began by saying that one of their number was\na descendant of a Mexican who, with his entire party, had been killed\nby Indians in that vicinity years ago. Their mutilated skeletons,\nscattered by the coyotes and buzzards, were known to have been buried\nmonths later by a Mexican freighter who came across them while he was\nhunting a mule that had broken away. The freighter had put a cross of\nmesquite sticks over the bones, but the cross was doubtless rotted away\na long time ago, and now these men were come to put up another, if, by\nthe will of God, they could find the place where the bones lay. Could\nanyone in the country give them the necessary information?\n\nFrom the number, equipment, and general looks of the Mexicans, it\nappeared to the Mills boys that the mission of the gang might not be so\naltogether pious. They smelled a nigger in the woodpile, and told the\nMexicans as much.\n\nThe Mexicans beat around the bush a while longer and consulted with\neach other for a few hours while their horses picked up mesquite beans\ndown in the hollow. Then their leader came back to the Mills boys and\nlet out that they were looking for the bones of men who had been killed\nwhile they were escorting seven jack loads of silver bullion from\nabove\u2014de arriba\u2014to Mexico. If they could find the battle ground marked\nby the bones, they had a plata (plat) that would take them to the\ntreasure.\n\nAt that the Mills brothers offered to show the bones provided they\nshould get half the find. True to their nature, the Mexicans refused to\ngo in on halves, and they left, trusting no doubt to come back some\nma\u00f1ana and find the bones and bullion.\n\n\n\nTHE METATE ROCKS OF LOMA ALTA\n\nJust west of the Hill of Seven Rocks towers in primeval roughness Loma\nAlta, the highest point of the whole country. John Murphy told me this\nstory connected with it. An early settler named Drummond had a squat\nnear the foot of the mountain. One time an old Mexican came to him\nlooking for some bullion that he claimed had been buried in the\nvicinity by ancient parientes (kinsmen) in flight from the Indians. His\nplata called for a mesquite tree on the southeast slope of Loma Alta\nmarked by a certain sign. Murphy thinks that the sign was a cross but\ndoes not well remember. The plata called also for a line of smooth,\noblong rocks that bore a resemblance to the stones used for grinding\ncorn on the metate. They had been culled from the hillside and laid to\npoint to the hidden bullion. Drummond and the Mexican found the tree\nbut rode around for days without being able to find the rocks. They\nfinally decided that generations of horses and cattle had scattered\nthem so that they could no longer be recognized as forming a line, and\ngave up the search.\n\nThe Mexican left, Drummond died, and years passed. Then one day while\nMurphy was holding down a wormy calf out in the pasture to doctor it,\nhe raised his eyes and saw three or four of the metate-like rocks lined\nup in some thick chaparral. He was down on his knees, so that he could\nsee under the brush. He thought of the tale that Drummond had told him,\nand looking about further, he found, badly scattered, yet preserving a\nkind of line, other such rocks. But he could never settle on a place to\ndig, and so far as he knows no one has ever dug on that side of Loma\nAlta.\n\n\n\nWHEN TWO PARALLEL LINES INTERSECTED\n\nAn old-timer of McMullen County, Kenney by name, tells of a fellow\ncounty-man, named Snowden, who was led by a negro to believe that a\ncertain boulder out on a plain ten or fifteen miles from the San Caja\nmarked the site of buried money. In the first place, the boulder really\ndid look to have been placed where it was by human agency, for there\nwas not another rock of its kind within miles. Snowden went to San\nAntonio to consult a fortune teller. The fortune teller, without ever\nhaving seen the country, drew up a chart of the whole territory,\nmarking down on it the position of the boulder. He told Snowden to draw\ntwo parallel lines from the northwest and southeast corners of the\nboulder, respectively, and to dig at the intersection of the lines.\nSnowden paid a nice fee for the information and came back to Tilden and\norganized an expedition.\n\nWhen they came to draw the parallel lines, they found that they would\nnot meet and sent back the chart for correction. But it was not\nreturned, and becoming impatient for the treasure, the gold diggers\ntwisted about the directions somehow so that the \u201cparallel\u201d lines would\nintersect. There they dug and dug. Finally, one of the party in disgust\nswore that he would sell out his interest \u201cfor two-bits\u2019 worth of Bull\nDurham tobacco.\u201d Snowden took him up. Presently all the other members\nhad sold out on the same terms, leaving Snowden to pay the expenses of\nthe whole work.\n\n\n\nA LUCKY POST HOLE\n\nTilden (old Dog Town) is, remember, the county seat of McMullen County.\nNot far from it is what is still known as the \u201cold Tolbert Ranch,\u201d\nthough a man named Berry bought it years ago. I have heard the\nfollowing story so many times in so many places that I have halfway\ncome to believe it true.\n\nTolbert was a miser in early days when men kept their money about them.\nIt is said that he would never kill a maverick no matter how hungry he\nwas but would always brand it. He never bought sugar or molasses; bacon\nwas a rare luxury; he and his men lived principally on jerked venison\nand javelin meat. When he \u201cworked\u201d and had an outfit to feed, he always\ntold the cocinero to cook the bread early so that it would be cold and\nhard before the hands got to it. When he died none of his money could\nbe found. So, even till this day, people dig for it around the old\nranch house. One man who was working on the place some fifteen years\nago saw two men in a wagon go down a ravine that runs near the ranch.\nHe thought that they were hunters; but when the strangers passed him on\ntheir way out the next morning, he noted that one of them had a shotgun\nacross his knees. When the ranch hand rode down into the ravine a few\ndays later, he found that the wagon tracks led from a fresh hole under\na live oak tree and that near the hole were pieces of old steel hinges\nthat looked as if they had been cut off with a cold chisel. However,\nnot many people think that the two strangers got Tolbert\u2019s money.\n\nBerry got that, and he never hunted for it either. He had moved on to\nthe ranch when he bought it and a number of years had passed. One day\nwhen he had nothing else for his Mexican to do, he told him to put some\nnew posts in the old corral fence, which was made of pickets that were\nrotting down. The Mexican worked along digging post holes and putting\nin new posts until about ten o\u2019clock. Then at about the third post from\nthe south gate he struck something so hard that it turned the edge of\nhis spade. He was used to digging post holes with a crowbar and a tin\ncan, and so he went to a mesquite tree where the tools were kept and\ngot the crowbar.\n\nBut the crowbar would no more dig into the hard substance than the\nspade would. The sun was mighty hot, anyhow; so the Mexican went up to\nthe house where el se\u00f1or Berry was whittling sticks on his gallery, and\ntold him that he couldn\u2019t dig any more, that at the third post hole\nfrom the south gate it looked as if the devil himself had humped up\ninto a rock that nothing could get through. Berry snorted around\nconsiderably at first, but directly he seemed to think of something and\ntold his man, very well, not to dig any more but to saddle up and go\nout and bring in the main remuda. Now, only the day before they had had\nthe main remuda in the pen and had caught out fresh mounts to keep in\nthe little horse pasture. By this time the other horses would be\nscattered clear away on the back side of the pasture. The Mexican\nwondered what the patr\u00f3n wanted the remuda for again. But it was none\nof his business. Well, the ride would take him all the rest of the day,\nand at least he would not have to dig any more post holes before\nma\u00f1ana.\n\nAfter the Mexican had saddled his horse and drunk a cafecita for lunch\nand fooled away half an hour putting in new stirrup leather strings and\nfinally got out of sight, Berry slouched down to the pens. He came back\nto his shade on the gallery and whittled for an hour or two longer\nuntil everything around the jacal, even the Mexican\u2019s wife, was taking\na siesta. Then he pulled off his spurs, which always dragged with a big\nclink when he walked, and went down to the pen again. The spade and the\ncrowbar were where the Mexican had let them fall. Berry punched the\ncrowbar down into the half-made hole. It almost bounced out of his\nhand, and he heard a kind of metallic thud. No, it was not flint-rock\nthat had stopped the digging.\n\nBerry went around back of the water trough to the huisache where his\nhorse was tied and led him into the pen. Then he started to work. He\nbegan digging two or three feet out to one side of the hole. The dry\nground was packed from the tramp of thousands of cattle and horses. He\nhad to use the crowbar to loosen the soil. But it was no great task to\nget out a patch of earth two or three feet square and eighteen or\ntwenty inches deep. Berry knew what he was about, and as he scraped the\nloosened earth out with his spade he could feel a flat metal surface\nthat seemed to have rivets in it. It was the lid of a chest, and when\nhe had uncovered it, Berry drew up one of the firm, new posts to use as\na fulcrum for the crowbar. With that he levered up the end of the\nchest. As he suspected, it was too heavy and too tightly wedged for him\nto lift out. He kicked a chunk under the raised edge and then looped a\nstout rope about the exposed end. He had dragged cows out of the bog on\nhis horse, and he knew that the chest was not so heavy as a cow. He had\nbut fifty yards to drag it, and that down grade, before he was in the\nbrush, where he could prize the lid off.\n\nWhen the Mexican got back that night his mujer told him that Se\u00f1or\nBerry had gone to San Antonio in the buckboard, and that he had left\nword for the remuda to be turned back into the big pasture and for the\nrepair of the corrals to be continued. \u201cThey say\u201d that the deposit that\nBerry made at the Frost National Bank was a clean $17,000, nearly all\nin silver.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDARY SPANISH FORTS DOWN THE NUECES\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nMany people of pioneer stock in Southwest Texas speak of \u201ca string of\nold Spanish forts\u201d that extended from a fortification near Point Isabel\nin Cameron County to another near what is now \u201cOld\u201d Pleasanton in\nAtascosa. The names of these two extreme \u201cforts\u201d I cannot recall, but\nsouthward toward Laredo from the Pleasanton location was Fort Ewell, on\nthe Nueces River, in La Salle County. Fifty miles to the east as the\ncrow flies, but double that distance as the river runs, was El Fortin,\notherwise known as Fort Merrill; next, not more than twelve miles to\nthe south, and some five or six miles off the river, came Fort Ramirez,\non the Ramire\u00f1a Creek; sixteen miles southward, again on the Nueces,\nwas Casa Blanca; near it on the Bluntzer Ranch was Fort Planticlan;\nnext, due south, Petronita; then, Las Animas; last, the \u201cfort\u201d near\nPoint Isabel. In such a string the first three so-called forts made a\nkind of crescent, and the remainder a long, almost straight, line, the\nwhole figure resembling an old-fashioned wagon axle-wrench, or gancho.\nHistory, so far as I have read, has nothing to say about this fine\n\u201cstring of old Spanish forts,\u201d but its existence is often a premise to\nlegends connected with the several stations. Of the forts in the string\nCasa Blanca and Ramirez seem to be the most fertile in legend. As best\nI can gather from oral tradition, Fort Ewell and Fort Merrill were\nbuilt about 1840 and used by the early settlers and rangers for\nprotection against the Indians and Mexicans. Both places are mentioned\nby the historian Brown, though he has nothing definite on the origin of\neither. [59] Other not well identified ruins in Southwest Texas are\nfrequently pointed out as the sites of old Spanish missions or\npresidios. [60]\n\n\n\nFORT RAMIREZ ON THE RAMIRE\u00d1A\n\nFort Ramirez is in the southern part of Live Oak County on my father\u2019s\nranch. When I was a boy some of the old rock walls were ten or twelve\nfeet high, though they were crumbling. As far back as I can remember or\nhave heard men tell, there were holes that had been made by treasure\nseekers all along the walls, inside the room, and for hundreds of yards\nout from the place. When I revisited the location last summer, I found\nthe walls all down, most of the rock lugged to one side, and indeed a\nlarge part of the foundation dug out. Some of the excavated stones\nweighed, I dare say, two hundred pounds. The ruins are on the point of\na hill that overlooks the immense but dry bed of Ramire\u00f1a Creek, which,\nnevertheless, back in the days of the open range was nearly always\nrunning, men of that time say. A deep but short gorge called Ramirez\nHollow runs up near the hill.\n\n\n\nI\n\nThere are two distinct legends about the old place: in one it is a\nfort; in the other, an old sheep ranch. Of later years, the fort idea\nseems to have gained ground. Mr. E. M. Dubose of Mathis says that he\nfirst got \u201cthe straight\u201d of the matter from an old Mexican who was\nlooking for the Casa Blanca site. According to this Mexican, a band of\nbandidos had in early days captured the fort from Spanish priests who\nwere using it as a kind of ungarrisoned mission. The bandits pillaged\nthe place of a cross of precious metal, golden candle-sticks, and other\ncostly paraphernalia, and took up their headquarters in a secret cave a\nshort distance east of the building. Later they were run out of the\ncountry by the Texans, leaving in the cave all their churchly plunder\nas well as much money that they had robbed from freighters and\nranchmen. The problem with treasure seekers has been to locate the\ncave, of which there is now no sign.\n\nIn trying to make the location, Dubose and his party used at first a\n\u201cgold monkey,\u201d or mineral rod. This \u201cmonkey\u201d was supposed to oscillate\ntowards rich mineral until it got over it, then to halt. It oscillated\nall right, and under its guidance the treasure seekers dug two holes,\nboth to the west of the fort.\n\nThen Dubose went to Victoria to consult a famous mulatto fortune\nteller. The fortune teller described Fort Ramirez satisfactorily and\nsaid that he could and would locate a buried chest of money near the\nplace for $500. The agreement was made, and one dark night Dubose drove\nthe mulatto to the fort. The fortune teller led at once to the north\ncorner and, walking thence east a few paces, planted his foot down and\nsaid: \u201cHere it is. With this spot as the center, dig a round hole ten\nfeet in diameter.\u201d The two went back to Wade\u2019s Switch that night, and\nwhen they got there the negro demanded his $500. Dubose told him that\nhe would have to wait until the money was dug up, and offered to allow\nhim to be present at the ceremony, but he refused to stay. He declared\nthat unless he was paid his fee at once, \u201cspirits would move the box\u201d\nand that it would be useless for anyone to try to find it.\n\nHe was not paid at once, but in spite of the threatened futility of\ndigging, a few days later two white men, aided by two or three Mexican\nlaborers, were digging a great hole circumscribing the point marked by\nthe fortune teller. When they had got down six or seven feet, they came\nupon a loose soil that was different in color from the contiguous\nearth. It appeared to be \u201cthe filling\u201d in some old hole. Hopes became\nfeverish, but after about a barrel of the extraneous earth had been\nremoved, the foreign matter petered out, and at the depth of twelve\nfeet the men quit digging.\n\n\n\nII\n\nThe legend that I grew up knowing was that the \u201cfort\u201d had been the\nranch of a Mexican or Spaniard named Ramirez who became immensely\nwealthy raising sheep. He is supposed to have lived there more than a\nhundred years ago. Ramirez had a tunnel connecting his house with the\ncreek. One time the Indians surrounded him. After withstanding the\nsiege for days until he saw that he must leave or starve, he buried his\nmoney somewhere within the rock walls, and left by the tunnel. He was\ncautious and left in the night, but the next day he was captured,\ntogether with his small household, and all were put to death, leaving\nthe place of his hidden thousands a secret.\n\nSome people will tell you that it is useless to hunt for the treasure\nany longer. They say that fifty years ago Tol McNeill, who owns a\nfair-sized ranch adjoining the pasture in which the fort is situated,\nfound $40,000 there and with the money bought and stocked his land. But\nI am sure that hunters for riches around the place are increasing in\nnumber.\n\nYears ago I remember that a white man with a Mexican beside him drove\nup to our house in a buckboard. He had come from Runge, seventy miles\nnortheast. He told my father what he was after and asked permission to\ndig at the fort, which was readily granted. His Mexican claimed to have\nbeen digging at the south wall some ten years before when all of a\nsudden, just as he was sure that his telache had struck the lid of a\nchest, he heard an unearthly yell behind him. He did have enough\npresence of mind to kick a few clods back into the hole, which was a\nsmall one; but he had been too much frightened ever to return to the\nscene or even to tell anyone of his experience before he found the\npatr\u00f3n that was with him now. I guided the buckboard through the\nprickly pear to the fort; when the Mexican got there he appeared never\nto have seen it before.\n\nA field was put in near the place and a Mexican jacal built about half\na mile down the creek. The Mexicans living there tell of seeing lights\nplay around the hill at night, and to them, as to folk of other races,\nthe lights are a sign of precious metal under the ground.\n\nLast summer a Mexican, named Genardo del Bosque, who has been on the\nranch for a quarter of a century, gave me considerable information\nabout \u201cla casa de Ramirez.\u201d Antonio de la Fuente, now dead, came to the\ncountry years and years ago as a child with his parents. They had a\nlittle money and as land was then very cheap and as the old fort was\nyet in tolerable condition, the walls all standing, and all that it\nneeded to make it habitable being a roof of thatched beargrass, they\nconsidered buying it. One day while they were approaching it, a white\nlion, or perhaps it was a white panther, leaped out, and when they came\nwithin Antonio saw many and various coins on the walls and on the\nfloor. But he was afraid and so were his parents to touch the coins,\nand of course they would no longer consider a purchase. The white\nanimal was the soul of the dead owner of the treasure there to watch\nover it.\n\nHowever, it is rather strange that Antonio and his parents took none of\nthe money, for a white object (un bulto blanco) is a good spirit, and a\nwhite cat, a white calf, a white dog, or a white mule, or a woman\ndressed all in white may appear to people to lead them to buried\ntreasure. But if un bulto negro appears, let them look out! The\nestablished Spanish custom in old times was to bury the treasure first\nand then over it a dead man. If this dead guardian was not the owner,\nthen often the spirits of the two are in conflict. Hence, if a man digs\nclose to the treasure, he is usually frightened away by outlandish\nnoises heard behind him. The noises are generally as of many chains\n(cadenas) rattling and clanking. Since Antonio saw the white panther so\nlong ago, no strange animals have been observed near the fort, only\nlights, lights, always between the fort and the creek, never at the\nfort itself.\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF CASA BLANCA\n\nOld Casa Blanca, which is several miles from the railroad switch by\nthat name, is on the Nueces River in what is now Jim Wells, but was a\npart of Nueces, County. \u201cOf the history of this old ruin,\u201d says Mrs.\nSutherland, [61] \u201cno one knows a word.\u201d The record of it is preserved\nin legend alone, and of legends there are many. Mrs. Sutherland links\nthe place with a certain purported silver mine and recalls a tale of \u201ca\nfind\u201d made there in 1868.\n\nIn its past, Casa Blanca was both Spanish fort and mission. So runs the\nlegend told by Mr. E. M. Dubose. After the priests left it, it was\noccupied by a Mexican sheepman who prospered mightily. Finally he sold\nout his sheep and land for cash, but stayed on a while at Casa Blanca\nto wind up his affairs. Now the fact that he had thousands and that he\nkept them within the walls of the building was corroborated to Mr.\nDubose by a man named Reems, who once lived in Pearsall. Reems stayed\nwith the old sheepman three or four days just before the latter was\nkilled and got a hint as to the location of the money. After the\nmurder, he returned to Casa Blanca and found a worn hole in the very\nspot that he had \u201cfigured out\u201d to be the hiding place.\n\nNot long after it became known that the sheepman had acquired his cash,\nsome Mexicans captured him and tortured him until he told where the\nmoney was, whereupon they put an end to his life. At this juncture,\nthey found that they were being spied on by a second set of robbers.\nUnder the concealment of night they hid their booty in a kind of rock\npen near the fort, throwing the body of the murdered sheepman on top of\nit. They spent the night under protection of the walls, hoping to fight\ntheir way out the next morning.\n\nThe battle began at daybreak. The besiegers far outnumbered the\nbesieged, and in desperation the latter scattered into the brush. There\none of them named Carbal was cut off, and as he fell from a deadly shot\nhe saw his own younger brother bend over him. It was the brother whom\nyears ago he had taught the first lessons of outlaw life, and now that\nbrother in ironic ignorance had paid for the lesson. Carbal understood\nthe ignorance and with his dying words told where the loot was hid.\nEven as he told, the last of his companions was killed.\n\nBut the victorious desperadoes were never to reap the golden harvest of\ntheir victory. In the fight they had suffered losses, and now upon\ntheir heels came the terrible Texas Rangers. Retreating towards the Rio\nGrande, they were all \u201cnaturalized\u201d [62] on Texas soil but one or two\nwho managed to reach the security of Mexico. From that one or two has\ncome down to us, in confused form, the story of the rich sheepman, his\nlost money, and the blood spilled over it. Ed Dubose got the story,\ntogether with a chart, from an old Mexican whom he made drunk on\ntequilla. Later he tried to find the \u201ckind of rock pen\u201d near Casa\nBlanca, but could locate no trace of it.\n\n\n\nLUTZER\u2019S FIND AT FORT PLANTICLAN\n\nAbout fifteen miles below Casa Blanca, in Nueces County, not very far\nfrom the Nueces River, and near a huisache lake, are the remains of\nwhat is known as the Planticlan Fort. In a great Indian uprising the\nSpanish were forced to evacuate it, and when they did, they left\neverything but their guns, including three jack loads of silver\nbullion. The retreating Spanish were taken by the Indians and\nbutchered, with the exception of one man who survived long enough to\nreach his people and tell them about the abandoned treasure on the\nNueces.\n\nMore than half a century ago three Mexicans came with a chart to seek\nthat hidden silver. After digging an immense hole, they found it, and\nthere on the brink of the excavation they were polishing some of the\nblackened silver bars when Nick Lutzer happened upon them. (Lutzer is\nnot the real name.) He was riding after cattle and, hearing low voices\nin the brush, he at once suspected cow thieves. He dismounted and,\nrifle in hand, crept through the bushes. He had often heard of the\nriches supposed to lie in the neighborhood, and so he was not surprised\nat the sight that greeted his eyes. The Mexicans were too intent on\ntheir business to sense his presence. Lutzer was a true and quick shot.\nHe killed two of the Mexicans with his rifle and then drew his\nsix-shooter in deadly fire on the other. In a minute he rolled all\nthree of the dead men into the freshly dug pit and covered them.\n\nLater he went to New Orleans, sold the silver ore, and came back and\nbought and stocked an immense ranch, which still goes by the name of\nthe Lutzer Ranch.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTREASURE CHEST ON THE NUECES\n\nBy Mary A. Sutherland\n\n\nRiverside Ranch is in Nueces County on the Nueces River. Fifty years\nago while the owner was putting up a house near a ford, said to have\nbeen used by Indians of the most remote times, a Mexican with three\npack burros came into camp. He and his beasts were travel worn and he\nasked permission to camp and rest his stock. The permission was readily\ngranted, and true to class the Mexican hobbled his burros and then lay\nup in the sun and took life easy for several days.\n\nThen the men working on the house noticed that he was apparently\nhunting after various herbs and plants and making a close study of the\nground. After he had investigated for about two weeks in his solitary\nmanner, the Mexican seemed very much depressed. One night he came to\nthe camp of the Texans and asked for the owner of the land. Then he\ntold his story. He and his burros had come over the long trail from the\ninterior of Mexico to seek a buried chest of treasure. His trail had\nended; he had not found the treasure. The history of that treasure he\ngave thus:\n\n\u201cWhen my father was a boy, he left home to go with a party of Spaniards\nto the seacoast. They had three big wagons and a grand carriage, the\ncarriage for the captain, one wagon for the cook, and two wagons for\nthe guard. They started at midnight from a mine belonging to the\ncaptain, and as they set forth they made a great show to the stars.\nThey traveled to and across the Rio Grande without trouble, and then,\nse\u00f1or, the sands, [63] the terrible desert. They were days getting\nacross, and then, with the tough Spanish mules worn to the bone, they\ncamped in the nearest spot where there was water.\n\n\u201cThey prepared to rest for a week, but in the night the Indians\ncharged, killed one man, and got off with two mules. The party started\nagain at dawn, the Indians following. The Spanish captain decided to\nleave one wagon; so he took out the heavy boxes and put them in the\ncarriage with himself. Thus the pobrecitos traveled till they came to\nthe Nueces, on this very trail, and here on this bank they camped. That\nnight they got out the heavy boxes, and the captain and three men dug a\ngreat hole and buried them, while the rest of the party stood guard.\n\n\u201cAt dawn they crossed the river at the ford, hoping somehow to escape\nand make it back to Mexico for more guards. Five days later the Indians\ncame on with a great whoop and every soul was killed except the boy, my\nfather. He slid out into the tall grass, and after many months got back\nhome. Now he is muy, muy viejo (very, very old), and he has sent me to\nget as much of the gold as I could pack on three burros. They buried\nthe gold, he says, at the foot of a tree and put some stones above it.\nBut the tree is gone and there are stones everywhere. I go tomorrow. If\nyou find the Spanish gold, it is yours. Adios!\u201d\n\nNeedless to say, for a few days the woods were full of treasure\nhunters, but so far as is known not one was successful. Yet the story\nthat there is a chest of gold buried on Riverside Ranch has held from\nthose early days to this time.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE BATTLEFIELDS OF PALO ALTO AND RESACA DE LA PALMA IN LEGEND\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nThe Battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma were fought May 8 and\n9, respectively, 1846. The battlefield of the latter is about three\nmiles from old Fort Brown on the Rio Grande.\n\n\n\nI\n\nAccording to John Lewis, who was boss on the Collins Ranch, in Cameron\nCounty, on which is the site of the battle of Palo Alto, seven\ncartloads of pay money for the Mexican army were buried on the\nbattlefield. In proof of the claim, he found a part of an old-fashioned\nMexican cart while he was digging on Agua Dulce Creek, which runs close\nto the battlefield.\n\nA Mexican named Santiago in Austin claims that one of his ancestors\nhelped bury seven cartloads of army money on Palo Alto battlefield.\nTaylor\u2019s army was pressing the Mexicans. To save time the Mexicans had\nto lighten baggage. The officer in charge of the pay-carts had orders\nto bury the money. He told off his detail and ordered them to dig a\ntrench by a gully or little creek lined with mesquite brush. When the\ntrench was made, the officer ordered the money transferred to it from\nthe carts. While the last cartload was being put in the trench,\nSantiago\u2019s ancestor ran, for he knew that the men who made the trench\nwould have to follow the treasure. He had no more than got out of sight\nin the mesquites when he heard shots that told very plainly he had\nacted prudently in leaving.\n\n\n\nII\n\nThis account was given to me by Mr. Bob Nutt of Sabinal, who got it\nfrom an old ferryman named Ram\u00f3n down on the Rio Grande. Ram\u00f3n claimed\nto have been ferryman when the Mexican troops crossed over into Texas\nat the beginning of the war between the United States and Mexico.\n\n\u201cIt took me three days to get the army over,\u201d Ram\u00f3n would tell,\n\u201ccrossing and crossing back, day and night. And, oh se\u00f1or, I had muchas\nganas (many desires) to go with the troops. There was m\u00fasica, oh, so\nlively, and there were the banderas (flags) all bright in the air, and\nthe men were all happy and singing. But I did not go, and in three days\nmore here they were back, but without any m\u00fasica or banderas and not\nneeding any ferry boat. They came in flocks, running and crawling like\ntortugas (turtles), and they fell into the water flat on all fours like\ntortugas and never stopped till they were into Mexico.\n\n\u201cThey had been at the fight of what we call La Resaca de La Palma, and\nI was very glad that I had not been with them. They did not have time\neven to bring back the se\u00f1or general\u2019s chest of money or any of the\nsilver platas that he ate out of. There was a great bulto of it, and it\nwas left in La Resaca de La Palma. There three tall palms make a\ntriangle and in the middle of that triangle it is buried. They dug a\nhole and put the chest and the silverware and a golden cross in it, and\nthen filled up the hole and made a great fire on top of it so that it\nwould look as if some military stores had been burned. And then they\ncame back here into the river like so many tortugas and los Americanos\nwere so bravos that no one of those who helped hide away the tesoro\never would go back to it. Besides, most of them were killed at\nMonterrey.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW DOLLARS TURNED INTO BUMBLE BEES AND OTHER LEGENDS\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nThis group of legends came to me from an old darkey named Pete Staples.\nIn them may be seen the blended elements of negro, Mexican, and pioneer\nTexan lore. Pete was brought to Texas from Mississippi before the Civil\nWar. He was raised in the border country among the Mexicans and drove\ncattle up the trail to Kansas. He married a Mexican woman and lived for\nsome time in Mexico. When he told me these stories in 1922 he was\ncooking for a Mexican cow camp in Live Oak County. The other hands had\n\u201cunrolled their blankets\u201d early, and Pete\u2019s tones were confidential as\nwe talked by the burnt-out campfire.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\u201cOne time there was a white man who had got wind of a lot of Mexican\ndollars buried down below Roma. He had the place all located, and was\nso sure of hisself that he brung in an outfit of mules and scrapers to\ndig away the dirt. He was making a reg\u2019lar tank digging down to that\nmoney when a Mexican living down there what I\u2019ve knowed all my life\ncomed along.\n\n\u201cThis Mexican, when he come along clost to the tank that the white man\nwas digging, stopped a minute under a mesquite tree to sorter cool off,\nand when he did he saw a hoe laying down on the ground half covered up\nin the dirt. He reached down to pick it up and then he saw a whole\nmaleta of coins. A maleta, you know, is a kind of bag made out of hide.\nThis maleta was old and rotten, and when he turned it over with the hoe\nit broke open and the gold money jest rolled out in the dirt.\n\n\u201cD\u2019reckly, the Mexican went over to where the white man was bossing the\nteams, and he asked him what he was doing. The white man told him that\nhe was digging up some buried money.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, you\u2019s digging where it ain\u2019t no use to dig,\u2019 said the Mexican.\n\u2018The money ain\u2019t there; hit\u2019s over here. If you want to see it, come\nalong and I\u2019ll show it to you.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe white man laughed like he didn\u2019t believe what the Mexican was\ntelling him, but he come along. When they got to the mesquite there\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no money in sight, but there was a hole down at the root of the\ntree kinder like a badger hole and bumble bees was going in and out\nmaking a roaring sound and the dirt was fairly alive with great big\nbugs, maybe tumble bugs, only they was humming and making a sizzling\nnoise and working around awful like.\n\n\u201c\u2018Huh, is this what you call money?\u2019 says the white man, stamping down\non the tumble bugs. \u2018I\u2019ll eat all the gold what they roll up.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018That\u2019s all right,\u2019 says the Mexican. \u2018There was dollars of gold and\nsilver too here. But there ain\u2019t now, I admit, \u2019cause them dollars\u2019s\nevidently not intinded for you. White man didn\u2019t hide that money and it\nain\u2019t meant for white man to find it. No matter how much you dig or\nwhere now, you won\u2019t find nothing.\u2019\n\n\u201cShore enough, the man kept on digging and he didn\u2019t get nothing. One\ntime I asked the Mexican why he didn\u2019t go back and take out the money.\n\n\u201c\u2018I didn\u2019t want none of it,\u2019 he said. \u2018I never put it in the ground.\n\u2019Twa\u2019n\u2019t mine any more\u2019n that white man\u2019s.\u2019\n\n\u201cA few days after he saw the money, though, he went back and scratched\naround in the dirt a little and picked up an old Mexican square dollar.\nHe brung it to Roma and bought some flour and some coffee and some\ncandy, and give some of the candy to my wife. She was living down there\nand knowed the man well and she\u2019s told me many a time how she et some\nof the candy that the Mexican bought with that old square Mexican\ndollar. I always have thought that that money was intinded for him, but\nyou know how some people are, and I can\u2019t say as I blame him for not\nteching what he hadn\u2019t a right to. If buried money like that is\nintinded for a human, he\u2019ll come by it jest easy and nach\u2019ral. If it\u2019s\nnot, he won\u2019t come by it, no matter how much he hunts. Even if he did\nfind it and it wa\u2019n\u2019t intinded for him, it ud prove a curse. I\u2019d be\nafraid of it myself.\u201d\n\n\n\nII\n\n\u201cOne time over in East Texas two young fellers was going along when\nthey met a man. He looked perfeckly nach\u2019ral, and they was clost to a\ntree.\n\n\u201c\u2018Dig there,\u2019 said the man to them, like he knowed that they was\nlooking for something, which they was. \u2018Dig there,\u2019 was all he said,\nand when he said that he pointed to the root of the tree.\n\n\u201cThey swung down their grubbing hoes and hadn\u2019t more\u2019n scraped the\ncrust off\u2019n the ground when a great big bulldog come right out of the\nearth. He jest fairly appeared like out of nowhere, \u2019cept that he come\nout of the ground. He was monstrous big and sorter white looking, but\nhe didn\u2019t growl nor nothing. And those fellers never even went back to\nget their grubbing hoes.\u201d\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\u201cSomething like the same thing happened down at the old Carmel place\nbelow Lagarto. You know it\u2019s only about two or three miles north of\nCasa Blanca, what they tell so much about. I don\u2019t know what the truth\nis about that Carmel place, but as sure as you\u2019re bawn, things has\nhappened there. Some says that Spanish priests buried money there what\nthey was trying to get back to Mexico with. And Mr. Ed Dubose, once\nwhen I was cooking for him and some other gentlemens that was looking\nfor buried money, said that he saw the print of an iron box in a hole\nclose by. The rust was still on the ground all \u2019round the hole where\nthe box used to be, and they was jest a day late getting down there.\nSome other feller had beat \u2019em to it\u2014but it\u2019s a good thing, I speck.\nThere\u2019s an old grave made out of rock and cement at that Carmel place.\n\n\u201cSome says that there\u2019s a mine for silver or gold down there too what\nthe Spanish used to work, but now it\u2019s hid so nobody can\u2019t find it.\n\n\u201cSome says that there was a man drug to death what was traveling\nthrough with both saddlebags full of money. He was sleeping on his\nsaddle for a piller and the Mexicans supprised him and roped him and\ndrug him to death. Old Captain Cox used to have a house close down\nthere, you know, and sometimes he\u2019d wake up in the middle of the night\nhearing what sounded like a wagon rumbling. He\u2019d get up and go to the\ndoor and couldn\u2019t hear nothing. Then maybe he\u2019d hear d\u2019reckly sounds\nlike somebody galloping on horses and dragging an old dry cowhide.\nSometimes this dragging and rumbling would go on all night so he\ncouldn\u2019t sleep. Some Mexican cotton-pickers that was camped there heard\nthat hide being drug all around their camp one night, and next day they\nleft.\n\n\u201cOld man Miller was always projecking round trying to get his hands on\nthat money. He tried to get his pastor what kept a herd of goats down\non the south side of the ranch next to the Carmel place to look out for\nsigns. One time that pastor discovered that he\u2019d lost a big billy goat\nouten his herd. He set out to look for him, and he tramped around for\nthree days before he comed across ary a track. Then one evening nigh\nabout sundown he saw the old billy goat standing off on one side of a\nravine and nibbling grass jest as nach\u2019ral as life. He set out to where\nthe goat was, but when he got there, there wa\u2019n\u2019t nothing but two dead\nhackberry trees. It was a nach\u2019ral clearing and there wa\u2019n\u2019t no other\nhackberry trees in a mile. He said he knowed those trees was not there\nwhen he started. And he couldn\u2019t find not even a sign of the billy\ngoat, not even a track.\u201d\n\n\n\nIV [64]\n\n\u201cDown there sommers below Realitos there\u2019s an old dug well with six\njack loads of Mexican silver in it, and nobody ain\u2019t never going to get\nit neither. How it come there was this way. Six Mexicans was making for\nthe Rio Grande with it when they was overtaken and killed. But the\nbandits that killed them was being followed likewise and didn\u2019t have\ntime to get away with the silver. The fight had been right by this old\nwell, and what the bandits did was to shoot the jacks that was not shot\nalready and to pitch dead Mexicans, jacks, silver and all right into\nthe well. In the fight that followed, the bandits was cleared out. The\nmen after them was rangers, I guess. Anyway, one of them found out\nsomehow about the six jack loads of silver.\n\n\u201cWell, when everything had quieted down like, he went and bought the\nland on which the well was placed and set a bunch of Mexicans to clean\nit out. Of course, the well had got filled up with dirt and so on from\ncaving in. After they\u2019d dug a while the Mexicans struck bones. They\nhollered up to the white man that they had struck bones and that all\nthey lacked now was to pull up the goods. The white man, he hollered\ndown to them that they needn\u2019t do any more digging and for them to come\non up so as to let him down. Nach\u2019rally, being as they had struck them\nbones, the Mexicans wasn\u2019t very slow about getting out.\n\n\u201cWhen the white man got down there, the first thing he done was to grab\nhold of a corner of an old maleta what he seen sticking out among the\nbones. He jerked it out and it had the dollars in it all right. Then he\nlooked up and yelled to the Mexicans to pull. He hadn\u2019t more\u2019n got the\nwords outen his mouth when he seen a tall skileton standing alongside\nthe wall of that well. Its feet was close to him and it must have been\ntwenty, maybe forty, feet tall. It reached clear up to the top, and its\nface away up there was a-looking down at the white man. He couldn\u2019t\ntake his eyes offen it, and all the way up while those Mexicans was\na-pulling him slow and jerky he had to look that skileton in the face.\nHe forgot all about that maleta of money and dropped it back, and when\nhe clumb out he was so weak that they had to help him on his horse.\nThey managed to get him home and put him in bed, and that night he\ndied. And there ain\u2019t nobody what I know of as has undertook to get out\nthem six jack loads of silver since.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNATIVE TREASURE TALK UP THE FRIO\n\nBy Fannie Ratchford\n\n\nHis name was Zeno, but he answered with equal indifference and slowness\nto Bruno, Juno, and Zero. He was a goat-herder who had been hired to\nhelp with the fall shearing, and though he was not more than fourteen\nyears of age, long following after flocks of goats along dusty roads\nhad given him the slow, shambling gait of an old man and fixed on his\nsmall, wizened face an expression not unlike that of the patriarchs of\nthe flocks he drove.\n\nOne night at the supper table my cousin expressed disgust that a\ncertain Mexican, upon whom he had been depending for help with the\nshearing, had seen some sort of supernatural light on the mountains,\nand had betaken himself off to hunt for the buried treasure that such a\nlight indicates. As the conversation turned upon the subject of this\nsuperstition, I saw Zeno\u2019s face light up with an expression of interest\nand intelligence altogether new to it. But he said nothing. Indeed, I\nthink, up to that time I had never heard him speak.\n\nAfter supper, when he and a small boy who lived on the ranch had\nwithdrawn to the darkness of the lawn, I heard a thin, shrill, defiant\nvoice saying, \u201cThat\u2019s the truth, and anybody can laf that wants to.\u201d\n\nScenting an interesting story, I joined the boys on the grass, and\nasked, \u201cWhat\u2019s true, Zeno? Tell me the story that you were telling\nWayne.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tain\u2019t no story, hit\u2019s the gospel truth, and if you\u2019ll take me up\nthere, I\u2019ll show yer,\u201d was the defiant answer.\n\nAfter several more questions, I got this story. Near the head of the\nFrio River, between Leakey and Concan, there is a mountain with a\nrather steep, bald face. Anyone who has the temerity to linger in the\nvicinity until night begins to fall will see the tall, willowy figure\nof a woman all in white moving slowly down the mountain-side, carrying\na lighted torch in one hand, while with the other she strikes about her\nwith a rod or switch.\n\n\u201cWhere does she come from,\u201d I asked, \u201cfrom behind the mountain or from\nout of the top?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe don\u2019t come from nowhere,\u201d was the indignant reply. \u201cShe\njust\u2014just\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cJust appears,\u201d I suggested.\n\n\u201cYeh, just \u2019pears,\u201d Zeno agreed.\n\n\u201cBut what is she striking at?\u201d I persisted.\n\n\u201cAt ever\u2019thing, and if she hits yer, you don\u2019t feel no lick. Yer just\nhave a shivery feeling like a puff of cold, wet wind had struck yer.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is she doing there?\u201d I insisted. \u201cWas there a murder committed\nthere?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s a-watching all the money that\u2019s buried in that there mountain,\nof course,\u201d was the pitying reply. \u201cOnce on a time some Spaniards were\ngoing along there with a lot of money packed on mules, when the Indians\ncame along, and they had a big fight, and they wus all killed, but\nfirst they had buried their money, and nobody hain\u2019t ever been able to\nfind it, \u2019cause they is always a spirit guarding it. Grandma Christmas,\nshe can tell yer all about it; she\u2019s \u2019most a hundred years old, and\nshe\u2019s lived up there \u2019most since the time of the fight.\n\n\u201cPaw and me, we found some arrerheads up there, and Paw, he\u2019s seen the\nspirit with the light and ever\u2019thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas your father ever dug for the money?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cNo, he ain\u2019t never dug on that mountain, but he\u2019s dug in another\nplace, I ain\u2019t saying where, but not more\u2019n a hundred miles from\nthere,\u201d he answered mysteriously.\n\n\u201cMy uncle, he first seen a light in this here place where Paw dug\u2014a\nfunny sort of light that didn\u2019 burn anything up\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cLike Moses and the burning bush,\u201d I suggested, but he ignored my\ninterruption, and went on.\n\n\u201c\u2014and he first shot through it with his pistol, and then he tried to\ntouch it with his hand, but he never could get near enough to it. It\nalways moved away as he went toward it.\n\n\u201cBut anyway him and Paw found the right place to dig. They knowed it\nwas the right place, \u2019cause they found two machete knives stuck way\ndown in the ground. They found a funny sort of place, like a well all\nwalled up with rocks that had been filled in with dirt, and had grass\nand everything all grown over it.\n\n\u201cPaw and my uncle taken time about digging and watching, and once when\nPaw was digging, he come to the bottom of the well. The bottom was\ncovered with pieces of flat rock like pieces of pie with their points\ntogether in the middle. Paw started to prize one of these pieces up,\nwhen a bright light flashed right in his face, and he heard a terrible\nnoise like a hundred men a-running on horses, and fighting, too. He got\nout of there quick as he could, but it took him a long time to catch up\nwith my uncle, who had heard the noise first.\n\n\u201cNo, he never did go back there, but he told another man, who did go,\nand found the place too, but the man what owned the place run him away.\n\n\u201cNot long after that, Paw went to a fortune teller, and he told him\nthat they was a whole lot of money right there in that hole, an\u2019 if he\nhad just lifted the rock on the other side he would a found it, but it\nwouldn\u2019t do him any good to go back, for the spirits were watching that\nmoney, and they wusn\u2019t no man on the green earth that could get it\nuntil he could lay them spirits.\u201d\n\nZeno was now thoroughly warmed up to his subject, and as soon as this\nlast story had had time to soak in, he started again.\n\n\u201cThey\u2019s another place, too, up on the Frio where they\u2019s money buried.\nEver\u2019body knows hit\u2019s there, but nobody ain\u2019t ever been able to find\nit. My uncle was hunting up there once, when he found a funny piece of\nold, old iron chain, and after a while he saw some rocks with the\nfunniest kind of marks on them, that wusn\u2019t put there by no white man,\neither. He come back to get Paw, and they hunted and hunted for the\nplace, but they never could find the rocks ner the marks ner nothing.\nThe fortune teller told Paw that the spirits always turned them away\njust when they were about to find the right place.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sorry you can\u2019t tell me exactly where those places are, Zeno. Do\nyou suppose your father could tell me?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cHe kin tell yer all right if he wants to,\u201d was the canny answer. \u201cHe\nknows where just about all the money in Texas is buried, I guess.\u201d\n\nNeedless to say, I took occasion to go to Paw\u2019s place of business not\nlong after, but found to my disappointment that Paw had gone to\nCalifornia to pick grapes.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE SILVER LEDGE ON THE FRIO\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nThis legend and others were given me in the summer of 1922 by Mr.\nWhitley, a small ranchman of McMullen County. At that time, he was more\nthan seventy years old, though he was still an eager and agile\nhorseman. From his front gallery one could see the San Caja Mountain,\nwhich his land ran against. We began talking on the subject of buried\ntreasure a little after dark, and it was long after midnight before he\nsuggested that we \u201cunroll our blankets.\u201d When I think of the place, the\ntime, the man, his tones\u2014the whole environment in which these as well\nas other legends were told, I realize that the most faithful\ntranscription of the words can give hardly more than a shadow of the\noriginal effect.\n\n\u201cWhen I was a young man I got to know an old, old Mexican at Refugio,\nwho had been raised by the Indians. His name was Benito. They had\ncaptured him down in the Rio Grande country when he was a boy and taken\nhim north with them. In those days the Indians were friendly with the\nMexicans at San Antonio, and every year they would come down from the\nupper country and trade, but when they got in the vicinity of the San\nAntonio settlement they always hid their Mexican captive, keeping him\nback with the squaws.\n\n\u201cThe main thing that these Indians brought in to trade off to the\nMexicans and Spanish was silver and lead. Benito said he knew that they\nwere getting it from somewhere about the head of the Frio, but for\nyears did not know just where, for he was never allowed to go to the\nmine. The attempts of Mexican prospectors to get on to the whereabouts\nof the mineral made the Indians very particular. Finally, though, they\ntrusted their captive with the location. He found that there was a vein\nof ore. It seemed to be a lead and silver compound almost solid. From\nit the Indians simply chopped off bars to be used in trading or in\nmoulding bullets.\n\n\u201cNow, as old Benito used to tell, after he was grown he slipped away\nfrom the Indians, and with two or three Mexicans that he took in as\npartners went back and tried to get the ore himself. The Indians got on\nhis trail, though, and killed his companions before the party ever got\nto the ore. He alone escaped, and for years and years he was afraid to\ngo back.\n\n\u201cWhen I knew him he was over a hundred years old, I am pretty sure, and\nhe would tell me often about the rich silver vein. I wanted to go in\nsearch of it, and he thought that he could make the trip in spite of\nhis feebleness if we fixed it so that he could ride in a hack. He knew\nthat he could find the mine if he ever got up the Frio Canyon, but he\nwould not go unless a good-sized party went. He said that he would pick\nsix Mexicans to go and that I could pick six white men.\n\n\u201cWell, we got everything about ready, wagons, provisions, and so forth,\nwhen the man in our party who was bearing most of the fitting-out\nexpense up and took down sick. So we naturally had to put the trip off.\nThe man got well, and a while after that we got ready to go again. But\nluck seemed to be against us, and the old Mexican guide was taken down.\nIt was out of the question for him to go. He was dying. He gave us,\nthough, the clearest directions he could and thought that we could\nfollow them. From what he said, the vein of silver could not be got to\nhorseback. It was in the south bank of one of three arroyos that ran\ninto the Frio close together. At it the creek made a sharp turn, and a\nman would have to get down and go afoot along the bank. No doubt it was\nconcealed, for the Indians always covered it up well after they had\nhacked off what they wanted. The old Mexican said that if he could only\nget one sight of the lay of the land, he could tell which one of the\nthree arroyos the vein was in. But he never got that sight; so he gave\nthe best way-bill he could and died.\n\n\u201cThe treasure hunting party broke up and things rocked along for years\nwithout me doing anything. Meanwhile a brother-in-law of mine had moved\ninto the upper Frio country. I decided to go up and visit him and my\nsister, and to find the ore at the same time. I took my dogs along, and\nthe first thing we struck the very first morning that we rode out to\nlook up those three creeks was a bear. Well, sir, I got to hunting\nbear, and we never did get to hunting that silver, and to this day I\nknow good and well that if I had left my dogs at home, I\u2019d a had it.\n\n\u201cI say I know, because my brother-in-law found it after I left. I gave\nhim the directions and he agreed to notify me if he made the find.\nWell, he made it and was leaving his place to come down the country to\ntell me, when he was murdered in cold blood. But that is another\nmatter. He had confided to his wife about finding the silver and told\nher the purpose of his trip, warning her not to tell anybody. Of\ncourse, after his death she told me all that she knew; he had never\ntold her, though, where he had located the vein.\n\n\u201cYou see I have known two living witnesses to that treasure. There is\nenough of it to make anybody rich. If I just had time, I believe that I\ncould go and find it yet.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOST MINES NEAR SABINAL\n\nBy Edgar B. Kincaid\n\n\nI\n\nTHE QUICKSILVER MINE OF THE RANGERS\n\nWhen the Sabinal country was just settling up, a company of rangers\ncamped for some time about four miles north of Sabinal on the Sabinal\nRiver. They often practiced shooting, and some of the men from ranches\nround about practiced with them. Then the rangers were ordered on.\n\nThirty or more years passed. One day one of the old rangers showed up\nin Sabinal in search of their former camp. He looked around for a\nwhile, took no one into his confidence, and quietly left. Within a\nshort time he returned with another member of his all but forgotten\ncompany. They secured the help of some of the oldest settlers and\ndefinitely located the old camp site. Next, the former rangers drew up\na contract with the owner of the land allowing them to mine\nquicksilver. Then they told their story.\n\nWhen they were camped in the Sabinal country in the early seventies,\none of the members of the company shot a ground squirrel on the edge of\nits hole. On picking up the dead squirrel, he bent so that he could see\ninto the hole. The sun was shining at just the right angle to throw a\nlight down it; it must not have been very deep. Anyway, what the ranger\nsaw in the bottom of the hole was quicksilver. He got a can, dipped up\nsome of it, and passed it around for his comrades to examine. Some of\nthem rubbed their guns with it.\n\nThe old rangers started to work and dug many trenches about the former\ncamp site, but they could never find a sign of what they were after.\nThat site is near a great fault that has exposed millions of tons of\nigneous rock. It is said that quicksilver is sometimes found under just\nsuch conditions; but to this day the quicksilver once glimpsed by the\nrangers has not been found, and their story has passed into the\ntradition of the country.\n\n\n\nII\n\nLOST LEAD MINE\n\nNorth of Sabinal in early days lived a ranchman named Hoffman. He had\ncome from California, and he used to sell lead to occasional settlers\nwho went to his cabin to buy it. One day Will and High Thompson,\nbrothers, were helping Hoffman brand calves on his ranch, now known as\nthe Nixon Ranch, when they said something about needing lead to mould\ninto bullets. Hoffman said that he had plenty and that if they would\nkeep on working he would get them all that they wanted. The Thompson\nboys kept on working; Hoffman rode away, and in about two hours\nreturned with the lead. He said that he had got it out of his mine and\nthat just as soon as he could sell his cattle he was going to work the\nmine. He did sell his cattle soon afterwards, but almost immediately\nwas killed by the Indians.\n\nThe Thompson brothers then began to hunt for the mine. One day while\nthey were searching, High called out to Will to come and see \u201cthis\ngreat, big, blue cow chip.\u201d The cow chip proved to be lead. They were\nat the mine. Very shortly afterwards, Will, who was always leader, was\nkilled either by Indians or by robbers. The mine was forgotten for a\ntime, and the land passed into hands of people who would not allow any\nbut their own kin to hunt for the lead.\n\nIn after years Henry Taylor, a brother-in-law of the land-owner, got\nHigh Thompson to try to locate the mine again. He made a location and\nsank several shafts, but never found any lead. The mine is still a lost\nmine, talked about by many and perhaps even searched for by some.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE NIGGER GOLD MINE OF THE BIG BEND [65]\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nWherever men talk of the Bowie Mine, of the Rock Pens, of lost mines of\nthe West, they tell of the Nigger Gold Mine. The site of Reagan Canyon\nvaries from south of Dryden in Terrell County to a hundred and\nseventy-five miles west in Brewster County, in some accounts being\nidentified with Maravillas Canyon. Likewise, the gold lead shifts from\none side of the Rio Grande to the other. Mr. Carl Raht has put into\nprint an account of the Nigger Gold Mine [66] but he has not stressed\nthe legendary features. For material I am indebted to R. R.\n(\u201cRailroad\u201d) Smith of Jourdanton, who got his information from Tex\nO\u2019Reilly and others who know Campbell, the railroad conductor; also to\nEdgar Kincaid of Sabinal and West Burton of Austin. I tell the legend\nas it is told, not as history would sift it.\n\nThe Reagan brothers were camped down close to the Rio Grande in the Big\nBend country on a canyon that now bears their name. Reagan Canyon opens\ninto the Rio Grande, affording an excellent passage for stock, and the\nReagans used it to smuggle stolen cattle and horses back and forth\nbetween Mexico and the United States. Some say that they were in\npartnership with a gang of horse thieves that operated \u201ca chain\u201d all\nthe way to the Arbuckle Mountains in Oklahoma.\n\nOne time when one of the Reagan boys was in Valentine he came across a\nnegro tramp. He picked him up in his spring wagon and brought him back\nto camp and put him to work. Not long afterwards a horse got loose with\na saddle on\u2014some say with merely a drag-rope\u2014and the men in camp\nscattered out to find him. When night came and the men returned, nobody\nhad found the horse, but the negro rode in with a morral full of\nsomething heavy, and calling off one of the Reagan men, he said, \u201cMr.\nReagan, jes\u2019 looky here; I\u2019se found a brass mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cDamn your brass mine,\u201d said Reagan as he scattered the contents of the\nmorral with a kick. \u201cI\u2019m not feeding you to hunt brass mines. Why in\nthe hell didn\u2019t you find that horse? He\u2019s got a new saddle on him worth\nthree brass mines.\u201d\n\nWith that the negro kept still, and next morning early all hands turned\nout again to hunt the lost horse. About six or seven miles out from\ncamp the same Reagan brother who had kicked the morral met the negro\ncircling towards him. They exchanged observations; neither had found\nany sign of the horse. \u201cBut, Mr. Ben,\u201d went on the negro, \u201cwe\u2019se right\nover here now clost to that brass mine. Lemme show you.\u201d\n\nIt was along late in the afternoon and Reagan was fretted and hungry.\n\u201cI told you once,\u201d he blurted out, \u201cthat I didn\u2019t care anything about\nyour mine. What I want is that horse, and I\u2019m a damn sight hungrier for\nsome frijoles than I am for brass anyhow.\u201d\n\nThe two horse hunters parted, and when the negro got into camp that\nnight the cook called him off and told him that \u201cMr. Ben\u201d was \u201con the\nwarpath.\u201d And here the story prongs. According to one version, the\nReagans saw that they had antagonized the negro and that he was going\nto leave. Their pasture was full of stolen stock at the time and they\ndid not want the negro to talk; so they forthwith shot him and pitched\nhim into the Rio Grande. Mr. J. M. Kincaid of San Antonio, who years\nago ranched in the Big Bend, says that this is a confusion of stories,\nthat a negro was pitched into the Rio Grande all right, but that some\ntrain robbers drowned him because he would not go in with them as he\nhad promised to do.\n\nAccording to the more prevalent version, the negro culled a stray horse\nfrom the Reagan remuda\u2014some say a fine Reagan stallion\u2014and made back\neast or else into Mexico. After he was gone and the Reagans had cooled\ndown, they began to think about the \u201cbrass\u201d and picked up some of the\nore that had spilled out of the morral. They saw that it was rich in\ngold. Then they tried to get the negro back, spending and offering\nlarge sums in the attempt. The negro heard of the efforts and hid out\nthe farther. He thought that the white men were after him for taking\nthe horse. The Reagan boys searched in every direction for the gold\ndeposit, meantime continuing their stealing and smuggling. Later the\nRangers came down into the Big Bend and broke up the gang. They killed\none of the boys, one died, one went to Mexico, where he now lives with\nthe Yaqui Indians.\n\nBut when he left, the negro had held on to his samples of ore. He knew\nthat he had something valuable. He sent specimens to be assayed at El\nPaso and Denver. The analysis showed either ninety-two per cent gold or\nelse $92,000 gold to the ton, the figures vary. No matter how rich the\nore, however, he was afraid to go back into the Big Bend. He\ndisappeared. Other people than the Reagans had heard of the negro and\nhis \u201cmine\u201d and they set to searching for both. It is estimated by some\nmen that fully $20,000 have been spent in trying to find the negro.\nSome say that he died in Louisiana; some, that he is still in Mexico. I\nknow one man who claims to have known him in Monterrey a good many\nyears ago. There the negro went by the name of Pablo, had a peculiar\nscar on his face, was a noted drinker and gambler, rode a fine horse\noften at full speed down the street, whooping and shooting. He always\nhad plenty of money, and it was claimed that he loaded two pack horses\nevery three months with ore from his secret mine.\n\nBut the real story of the Nigger Mine is forever linked with the name\nof Campbell. Campbell was a conductor on the Southern Pacific Railroad.\nHe is yet living in San Antonio and may enjoy in life the legendary\nfame that only a few men attain to in death. Before the negro left\nTexas, he gave Campbell some of his ore. Campbell had it assayed, with\nthe same rich results that the negro\u2019s assays had shown. He quit work\nto go out and see the mine. Then he discovered that the negro had\nstolen a horse and run away. He tried to find the mine himself and\nfailed. All that he knew was that it was within seven or eight miles of\nthe old Reagan camp. He spread abroad offers of a high reward for\ninformation that would lead him to the negro. Thus the whole country\ncame to know about the mine and to search for it.\n\nThen the excitement gradually died down and people had begun to talk\nabout ordinary subjects when a miner by the name of Fink who had taken\nup the search found, or claimed to have found, the mine. He confided\nhis success to some friends, who decided to take the mine for\nthemselves. Under the guise of friendship they went with him to El Paso\nto help him file his mineral claim. As yet he had told no one of the\nexact location of the deposit, and their plan was to get him drunk\nenough to talk and then to double-cross him. They gave him all the\nwhiskey that he could drink and he had \u201ca high old time.\u201d He drank too\nmuch whiskey to talk at all. In fact, he drank so much whiskey that it\nkilled him, and with him died his secret.\n\nBut Campbell had not given up. He alone of all the searchers has been\nconsistent and persistent. Others have searched far and near, now on\none side of the Rio Grande and now on the other. He has kept to his\neight mile radius. He grub-staked an old Dutch prospector to search,\ngiving him a pair of burros and telling him that he might go away from\ncamp as far as a burro might take him out and back in a day. Solitary,\noften not seeing a human being for months, the old Dutchman examined\nledge after ledge, rock after rock. He was looking for a kind of blue\nrock. Then one day he found it! He put some of the ore on his pack\nburro, loaded on his bed and a little \u201cgrub,\u201d and started for\nValentine. On the road he got sick. He was feeble anyhow. When he\nreached Valentine he was too sick to talk. Only the ore in his pack\ntold his tale. He died before he could give directions to his find.\nCampbell has had other men searching since. All he knows to tell them\nis that they may search as far as a burro will walk out and back in a\nday. But who knows that the old Dutchman did not tire of his tether and\nwander out in the mountains, camping where night overtook him, and that\nhe did not make his discovery far out?\n\nSome say that there never has been a mine, that the negro merely\nstumbled on some ore that a certain old California prospector with a\nsense of humor had \u201csalted out.\u201d Some say that the negro found a lead\nunder a cliff that later caved down and covered it up. Who knows? What\ndoes it all mean? Romance.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMYSTERIOUS GOLD MINE OF THE GUADALUPE MOUNTAINS\n\nBy Marvin Hunter [67]\n\n\nTwenty years ago, an old Mexican, of Tularosa, who had been captured by\nthe Mescalero Apaches when five years old, related that his captors\ntook him along on a hunting trip to Guadalupe Mountains and that while\nthere he saw them gathering nuggets of gold in a gulch.\n\nA Mescalero Apache informed the late G. W. Wood, of El Paso, for whom\nhe worked in the Jarilla mines, that if he sought gold, he should go to\nthe mountains called \u201cSmoky\u201d over the line in Texas, where ... his\npeople used to go and gather gold.\n\nAnother story is that of John Kilgore, a Texan and a man of undoubted\nveracity, who said that an old Mexican once told him that he was\ncaptured by the Indians when he was about fourteen years old. One day,\nthe Indian who kept him in his wigwam in the Guadalupes called him to\nhis side, blindfolded him, and led him into the fastness of the\nmountains, telling him to sit down on a flat rock and wait for his\nreturn, which he did. The Indian went away and in a short time returned\nwith a buckskin sack filled with gold. This he handed to the Mexican\nboy, gave him a pony, and told him to go back to his people. The\nMexican said he afterward tried to locate the place shown him but could\nnever do so.\n\nGreen Ussery, a rich cattleman of West Texas, was walking along a gulch\nnear the Chico Ranch in the Guadalupes when he saw Lee Church, a friend\nwho was with him, pick up a gold nugget from the ground, worth $20.\n\nSeveral years ago, Cicero Stewart, under sheriff of Eddy County, New\nMexico, was up in the mountains hunting for the lost mine. He relates\nthat \u201cGrizzly Bill,\u201d a cowboy, was in camp in the Russell Hills of the\nGuadalupe Mountains, and came across a gold deposit. He abandoned his\ncattle and went to Pecos, where he had a great spree, displaying his\ngold. While trying to ride a wild horse he was thrown off, breaking his\nneck.\n\nF. H. Hardesty, residing in El Paso, was induced to relate his own\nexperience as follows:\n\n\u201cAbout a year and a half ago, Lucius Arthur stopped at my place to get\nwater for himself and pack animal, and remained over night. Becoming\nconfidential, he divulged to me the secret that he was making a trip to\na mountain range, three days\u2019 journey due east, for the purpose of\ntrailing two Mexicans who left Ysleta the night before.\n\n\u201cHe said he had followed them at other times nearly to the mountain,\nbut had been compelled to return before reaching it for want of \u2018grub\u2019\nand water. He was known as \u2018Frenchy\u2019 in Ysleta, being a native of\nFrance. He had been professor of athletics in Austin, Texas, and while\nthere heard a story about these two Mexicans, and had come to find the\ngold mine they visited.\n\n\u201cOne Mexican, he said, would come from down in Mexico, and meet the\nother (his brother-in-law) in Ysleta, and start out in the dead of\nnight horseback. The one from Mexico belonged to a wealthy old family\nwho had known for generations about the mine and had kept the location\na secret. But some member of the family would go every year and bring\nback gold.\n\n\u201cI told Arthur he ought to be better equipped for the journey, and\noffered to stake him with all funds needed. He accepted my offer and\nagreed to take me as a partner. He left with two months\u2019 supplies and\ngood equipment. After an absence of a month and a half, he returned,\nsaying that he had at last found the hidden mine, and brought me as a\nproof plenty of rich gold quartz broken off the ledge near the brink of\na chasm, which he could not descend into, because its walls were\nperpendicular. He stayed with me a few days, and providing himself with\na strong rope, set out for the mine. This chasm was 80 feet long, east\nand west, by 40 feet wide, he said.\n\n\u201cFrom his place of concealment, he said, he saw one of the Mexicans\ndescend by a rope, and bring out several filled sacks. After their\ndeparture he slipped down to the place and saw a large opening like a\ncave in the vein, 60 feet down. The chasm appeared to have widened to\n100 feet at that point. Loose broken rock in front of the cave showed\nthat work had been done lately. He was unquestionably at the place\nwhere the Mexicans had for generations got their yellow gold.\n\n\u201cFrenchy never returned to me,\u201d concluded Mr. Hardesty.\n\nBut the most realistic and marvelous story of gold, in comparison with\nwhich the stories of the lost \u201cCabin Mine\u201d and \u201cNigger Ben Mine\u201d and\nsimilar legendary mines pale into insignificance, is one familiar to\nnearly every one in Roswell and Carlsbad, New Mexico, and told by\ncowboys and ranchmen in the winter nights around their camp fires in\nthe Guadalupe Mountain country.\n\nIt is the story of a mystery\u2014that of a lost gold mine in the highest\nand most precipitous, canyon-rent, and rugged mountains in the\nSouthwest, rising 5000 feet above the plains. The lost mine in the\nfastness of this range is a gold mine (as the story goes) that is\nfairly bristling with the precious metal; its value is estimated at\nmillions, and it is known in Texas and New Mexico as the \u201cLost Sublett\nMine.\u201d\n\nTwo men now living have actually seen this famous mine, but neither now\nremembers its exact location. One is Ross Sublett, son of the original\ndiscoverer, who is a prominent business man of Roswell, New Mexico. The\nother is Mike Wilson, a former crony of \u201cold man Sublett,\u201d who is\nbelieved to be on his death bed in a little hut in the Guadalupe\nMountains, vainly trying to remember the location of probably one of\nthe richest gold mines in the world.\n\n\u201cOld Ben Sublett\u201d was a native of Missouri, and belonged to an old\nfamily of that name in St. Louis. In early life the \u201ccall of the wild\u201d\nand the lure of gold led him to go to the Rocky Mountains with his\nyoung wife and three babies, whom he took on all prospecting trips. For\nyears luck never favored him, and while others found mines and grew\nrich, he continued poor. He was in rags, and his wife and children were\nhungry. They passed through the Guadalupes and finally settled in\nOdessa, Texas. Here they made their home in a little hut. Mrs. Sublett\ndid washing and sewing to support the children, while Sublett worked on\na ranch just long enough to get money to buy a \u201crickety old buckboard\nand a bony horse.\u201d\n\nHe spent most of his time in the Guadalupes. He had the \u201chunch\u201d that in\nits labyrinthine solitudes he would find gold. Occasionally he brought\nin a little nugget, hardly of value enough to buy grub for his return\ntrip. His wife vainly begged him to quit the mountains, to settle down\nto some vocation in which was a sure living; he was stubborn, taking no\nadvice from anyone.\n\nAlthough the mountains were then filled with the bloodthirsty Mescalero\nApaches, ever ready to kill the lonely prospector or trapper, Sublett\nnever carried arms, and by some strange fate was never molested. The\nold prospector laughed at those who warned him and advised him to be\ncareful. These trips continued; and every time he returned, his return\nwas a surprise to the people of the town. They scoffed at his crazy\nmode of life.\n\nOne day the old man drove up to Abe Williams\u2019 saloon and strode boldly\nto the bar, inviting everybody present to \u201cjoin\u201d him. They thought that\nhe was joking, as he was supposed to be penniless, but when Old Ben\nthrew down a buckskin sack filled with nuggets and said that he had\nfound a rich gold mine and could buy out the whole town and have plenty\nleft, the crowd was wild with excitement. He went out to his buckboard\nand dragged in a canvas sack filled with gold so pure, it is said, that\na jeweler could hammer it out. \u201cMy friends, have all the drinks you\nwant,\u201d he said, \u201cfor I have at last found the richest gold mine in the\nworld. I can buy Texas and make a backyard out of it for my children to\nplay in.\u201d\n\nAfter that Sublett would frequently slip out to the mountains and\nreturn in less than ten days with about $1500 worth of gold. He built a\nfine home for his family, and of course made many \u201cprosperity\u201d friends.\nAll tried to get him to show them the location of his mine, but he\nwould shake his head and say: \u201cIf anyone wants my mine, let him go and\nhunt for it like I did. I hunted twenty-four years and wasted the best\npart of my life at it. The valley of the Pecos and the peaks of the\nGuadalupes are my home; I want to be buried there when I die, and I am\ngoing to carry this secret to the other world, so that for years and\nyears people will remember me and talk about the rich gold mine \u2018that\nold man Sublett found.\u2019 I will give them something to talk about.\u201d\n\nHis son, Ross Sublett, who has made several attempts to find the mine,\nsays: \u201cI have a faint recollection of it. I was only a small boy when\nmy father took me there. We drove out in an old buckboard. I know the\nmine was about six miles from a spring. The spring is in what is known\nas the Russell Hills of the Guadalupes. I paid no attention at the time\nas to where we went, and was always glad when my father was ready to\nreturn home. Father got the gold out of a hole or cave, but it seems\nthat it was in plain sight on the ground outside of the cave. When my\nfather was on his death bed I tried to get him to tell me how to go\nback, but he said it would be useless, that I could never find it.\u201d\n\nSublett once described the mine to Mike Wilson, who afterward went out\nto the Guadalupes and found the mine. He emptied his sack of\nprovisions, and put in as much gold as he could carry and began the\njourney back home. Without recuperating from the effects of the hard\ntrip, Mike went on a spree for three weeks, and when again he tried to\ngo to the mine he became bewildered and lost his bearings.\n\nOld Ben Sublett just laughed at Wilson\u2019s bewilderment, and refused to\ndirect him again. He refused to tell anyone else where it was. \u201cIf\nanybody wants it, let him go and hunt for it like I did,\u201d was all he\nwould say. Later Sublett died and carried the secret with him. This was\neighteen years ago.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOST COPPER MINES AND SPANISH GOLD, HASKELL COUNTY\n\nBy R. E. Sherrill\n\n\n[Haskell, King, and Stonewall counties all corner near the junction of\nthe main forks of the Brazos, and this legend told by Mr. Sherrill\nshould be read in conjunction with the one immediately following told\nby Mr. Bertillion. It makes no difference that one legend has to do\nwith a copper mine and the other with a lead mine. One could probably\nfind another that has to do with a silver mine in the same vicinity. I\nmust think that both legends go back to the same tradition. And the\ntradition of a mine\u2014some kind of a mine\u2014up the Brazos is very old. It\nbegan with Spanish credence in an Indian story; the earliest American\nsettlers in Texas carried it on. In 1774, years after Los Almagres\nmines were abandoned, De M\u00e9zi\u00e8res reported men gone in search of mines\nwhich Indians said were \u201cin the direction of the Brazos de Dios.\u201d [68]\nIn 1823 Daniel Shipman and two other men, guided by \u201can old Red River\nhunter,\u201d went up the Brazos River to Flint Creek (which I have been\nunable to identify) on the west side in search of \u201can inexhaustible\nsilver mine.\u201d [69] It proved to be red clay. In 1836 the Reverend David\nB. Edward was strong in his belief in a mountain of iron on the\nheadwaters of the Brazos\u2014as well as in an abundance of gold and silver\non the branches of the Colorado. [70]\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nAs far back as the first settlement of white men in this part of the\nstate, a tradition has been floating around through the country that at\nsome indefinitely early date Spanish prospectors worked copper mines a\nlittle above the junction of the two main branches of the Brazos River,\nthe Salt Fork and the Double Mountain Fork, in what was formerly a part\nof Haskell County but is now included in Stonewall County. Furthermore,\nthey are supposed to have had, and left here, a vast quantity of gold.\n\nVarious people have come from unknown parts hunting this supposed\ntreasure, but no special headway was made until, in 1907 or 1908, a\nlarge old gentleman, whose name I cannot now recall, suddenly appeared\nin our sleepy little town from somewhere on the Mexican border and\nquietly began inquiring about the topography of the country and the\ntradition of Spanish treasure. Having learned all that he could, he\ntook into his confidence a few select men and explained to them that he\nhad gathered certain definite information from reliable Mexicans on the\nRio Grande, and that he proposed to search for the key to the hidden\nwealth.\n\nAdding his own information to what he heard from the native people, the\nstranger gradually let out a tale that ran somewhat as follows. At an\nearly date, when Spanish miners were gathering great quantities of gold\nin Mexico, a company of them, in search of further treasure, had\nwandered far to the northwest, taking with them a large store of the\nprecious metal. In their wanderings, directed by some Indian or by\ntheir own keen instinct for such things, the Spanish had located the\ncopper mines on the Brazos and had proceeded to work them. In some way\nthey aroused the hostility of the native Indians and were in danger of\nmassacre. They hastily hid their treasure and escaped for their lives.\nBefore leaving they made a plat of the country, carefully noting\ndirections and distances from prominent points of nature. This plat\nthey took with them, but the Indians continued so hostile that they\ncould never return to take away their gold. Amidst the turmoil and\ndangers of Mexico at that time, the plat was delivered for safe-keeping\nto a faithful Mexican convert who was attached to the Spanish party. It\nremained in his hands until the old man, approaching death, delivered\nit to some friend or to a member of his family as a passport to immense\nwealth. Thus the plat passed along for two or three generations until\nTexas fell into the hands of the hated gringos and it became certain\nthat no poor Mexican could ever get possession of the treasure.\nFinally, for some small favors and a little money, a Mexican turned the\nplat over to the American who had now come with it and its tale to\nHaskell County.\n\nHere he organized a small company to assist him in locating and digging\nup the treasure. The plat was guarded most carefully and its\ninformation kept most secret. But the detailed intricacy of that\ninformation was very confusing to the possessors of it. The map covered\na large territory, including the two branches of the Brazos, Kiowa\nPeak, and numerous minor features of the vicinity. It called for many\nspecified rocks and many marked trees. The rocks had been covered with\nsoil or the markings on them had been weathered away. Most of the trees\nhad perished in fires long years past. An explanation was given to some\nof the signs, but the meaning of more had to be guessed at.\n\nThe search was thorough and long continued, and a deal of money was\nspent in digging. Most of the prospecting was right along the river,\nand a Mexican who was herding sheep in the neighborhood began to enter\ninto the counsels of the treasure hunters. He said that the Mexican\ngovernment knew all about this treasure, that it knew, too, of five or\nsix very rich mines in Texas, some of them the richest in the world,\nbut that it would never reveal these secrets to Americans. He added\nthat certain priests in Mexico could locate this treasure that was\nbeing sought on the Brazos.\n\nThus the Mexican pastor convinced the treasure seekers that he knew\nsomething about the matter, and to use his information they made him a\npartner. As soon as he was made a partner, he announced that if a\ncertain rock was found with a certain letter on it, the picture of\nwhich he drew, he could find the gold. Only a few days after this, the\nparty did uncover, about eight or ten inches under the surface of the\nsoil, a rock that they called the \u201cSpider Rock.\u201d\n\nThe rock had many curious markings on it, among them the letter H, in\ncurious old Spanish chirography, as the Mexican had called for. He\npretended to explain the markings on the rock. He said that the little\nhill on which the Spider Rock was found was underlaid with the \u201cbase\nrock\u201d; that underneath the \u201cbase rock\u201d were buried a great many bodies;\nand that nineteen steps to the west of the dead bodies would be found\nburied a large bone of some prehistoric animal. He said that in\nexcavating the diggers would find a kind of wall, as if a trench had\nbeen dug and then filled in with a much harder substance.\n\nFired with hope, the treasure hunters set to digging for the \u201cbase\nrock.\u201d They did find a wall of very firm substance, wider at the top\nand narrower at the base, as if a trench had been filled in. When they\nhad got down some fifteen or nineteen feet, they were met by such a\nstench that they could hardly work. They found a great many decayed\nbodies and many relics of various kinds. Furthermore, at the specified\ndistance, they found the bone of the prehistoric animal. It was of\nabout the thickness of a man\u2019s body and very porous.\n\nThe Mexican now directed that the diggers go to the bluff a little\nfarther to the west. He said that there they would find under a rock a\ngreat bone like the first and other things buried by the Spaniards. The\nbone was found, and with it were an old-fashioned sword, some copper\nornaments thought to be epaulets, some silver ornaments also, about\nforty-two gold buttons, and a great number of beads.\n\nBut here ended the findings. A majority of the relics found were placed\nin Doctor Terrell\u2019s drug store at Haskell, and were lost in a fire\nabout 1909. The treasure hunting expedition is said to have turned up\nmore than an acre of ground, the depth of the excavations varying from\na slight distance to nineteen or twenty feet. The diggers dispersed to\ntheir farms, the large man from the border left, and after remaining\naround a few weeks the Mexican disappeared. Many men think that he knew\nmore than he would tell. Not long after he vanished, a skeleton was\nfound several miles to the east across the river, in the opposite\ndirection from that in which the Mexican had led the Americans. Near\nthe skeleton were two small, heavy copper pots, one shaped oblong\nsomewhat in the form of a canoe, the other round and of the capacity of\na gallon and a half, built much stronger than any vessel now made for\ncommerce and capable of holding itself full of the heaviest metal. The\npopular conclusion is that the Mexican took from these copper vessels\nat least a part of the vast Spanish treasure. A man in Haskell now is\ntrying to organize an expedition to seek the remaining part of the\ntreasure and to gather more relics.\n\nNearly every man of that searching party of seventeen years ago was a\nfriend of mine. I wish to give an illustration of the sanguine nature\nof these treasure seeking folk. At one time the party believed that\nthey were within a foot or two of their treasure, but they feared to\nuncover it before they had made arrangements to take care of it. They\nwere afraid, so one of them confided to me, to put much of the money in\nlocal banks, lest the banks be robbed; they wished, he said, to entrust\nit to our private vault, where no one would suspect its presence. I\nagreed to take care of the money and was to be notified a little after\nmidnight. The amount to be deposited was $60,000 in gold. I was never\ncalled to open the vault.\n\nRegarding the copper mines that the Spanish are said to have worked in\nthis country, I can add little. It is known that a company of wealthy\nmen, principally from Baltimore and Washington, came out near Kiowa\nPeak in 1872 to locate a copper mine. H. H. McConnell, \u201cLate Sixth U.\nS. Cavalry,\u201d in a book published in 1889, Five Years a Cavalryman, page\n294, gives a concise account of the expedition. It consisted, he says,\nof about sixty men and was almost luxuriously provided for. Its\ndistinguishing feature was the character of its \u201cbosses,\u201d ranging as\nthey did from a Virginia congressman of ante bellum days to an\norientalist named Kellog, and including Professor Roessler, \u201csometime\nState Geologist of Texas.\u201d According to McConnell, who was with the\nparty, it did little but travel leisurely and \u201clocate ten or twelve\nsections of land\u201d near Kiowa Peak. The clue on which it set forth was a\nreport of copper deposits on the Wichita and Brazos rivers made by some\nprospectors who had been driven back by Indians before the Civil War.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOST LEAD MINE ON THE BRAZOS, KING COUNTY\n\nBy L. D. Bertillion\n\n\nThirty-five years ago, at some horse corrals on Chickamauga Creek, just\nwest of Dalton, Georgia, I heard Thomas Longest tell of having\ndiscovered a ledge of lead on the Salt Fork of the Brazos. I do not\nknow whether this story is popularly told or not. Longest did not, I\nthink, leave a way-bill to the mine.\n\nIn 1886, Thomas Longest of New York City decided to travel\nsouthwestward in search of a basis for horse dealing. He settled in\nDalton, Georgia, forming a partnership with Luke Callaway, and\nestablished a livery, feed, and sale stable. In 1887, horses went up in\nprice, and the partners came to Texas to buy five carloads of horses.\nThey bought the horses; and then Longest remained to look over the\ncountry.\n\nOn the east side of the Brazos River at a point where the Double\nMountain Fork intersects with the Salt Fork, Longest saw a steer with a\nvery fancy head of horns. He desired to have the horns removed from the\nanimal that he might send them to a friend in New York. Upon learning\nwhat he wanted, however, the cowboy who was with him told him that\nthese horns were little compared to what might be found a day\u2019s ride to\nthe northwest. Longest promptly set out to make the ride, the cowboy\ngoing with him only far enough to show him a crossing safe from the\nquicksands, and telling him the general direction of trails to what he\ndesignated as the Croton Creek.\n\nAfter he had ridden a good many hours, a storm came up, and Longest\ntook shelter in a break of a very rough and desolate looking country.\nHere, back under the bank of a canyon, he noticed a rusty piece of\niron. Upon closer investigation, he found it to be an old pick. With it\nhe prized around in the dirt and uncovered the remains of a shovel.\nLongest kept on investigating and presently discovered a ledge of ore.\nFrom it he broke off a piece weighing about four and one half pounds.\nHe was sure that it was silver and returned to Georgia at once.\n\nAs soon as he had disposed of his horses in the East, he sent the ore\nto New York to be assayed. To his great disappointment, it was\npronounced lead, but seventy per cent pure\u2014a valuable find.\n\nLongest at once set about interesting a mining company in the ore and\nby the spring of 1888 had arranged to show its representative the mine.\nHowever, during his trip the year before he had contracted a severe\ncold, which developed into tuberculosis. He put off the trip in the\nhope of getting better, but in a few months he was dead.\n\nThus became a second time lost what is perhaps one of the richest lead\nmines in America. From the descriptions and directions given by\nLongest, it would appear that it is located in either Stonewall or King\nCounty, more likely in the latter.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE ACCURSED GOLD IN THE SANTA ANNA MOUNTAINS\n\nBy J. Leeper Gay\n\n\n[I have little doubt that the negro who figures in this legend is a\nsurvival of the Moor, \u201cBlack Stephen,\u201d who preceded Coronado\u2019s gold\nseeking expedition of 1541, though the real \u201cBlack Stephen\u201d never\nreturned to Mexico to tell his tale.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nThis story was told me by a Mexican who said that he heard it from his\ngrandfather in Sonora, Mexico. It well represents the many legends that\ncluster around the so-called Santa Anna Mountains and are believed in\nby various inhabitants of that region. It is a tradition of the country\nthat the mountains and town are erroneously named; that they should be\ncalled Santana instead of Santa Anna, it being believed that the Indian\nchief often referred to as Santa Anna was really named Santana. He is\nsupposed to lie buried among the mountains in a cave stuffed with gold\nfrom the San Saba mines. The Spanish had started with a few cart loads\nof it on their way to St. Louis, when they were overtaken in a certain\nmountain pass. This pass was frequently used by the Spanish at San\nSaba, according to legend, in order to communicate with another fort at\nwhat is now Colorado, Texas.\n\nYears and years past while Mexico was still under Spanish rule, stories\ncame sifting down far into Mexico that somewhere in Colorado was a\ngreat tribe of Indians with many sacks of gold in their tepees. Finally\na troop of cavalry was fitted out and sent north to explore, and if\nthere was gold to bring it back. Hardened raiders as they were, even\nthey had fear of such a long and wild adventure. At last they came into\nthe region where the tepees of gold were believed to be situated. They\nmade a swift attack, which was fiercely resisted, but all they found\nwas about fifty pounds of gold dust and gold nuggets.\n\nThe repulsed Indians rallied and made a counter attack. The Spanish\nwere driven back. They retreated slowly, in good order, steadily\nfollowed by the Indians. At each attack upon their rear, the Indians\nbecame fiercer, bolder, and stronger in numbers. The exhausted\nSpaniards were losing hope of ever reaching the Rio Grande with their\nlives, much less their treasure. A month after their assault on the\nIndian village, they were camped for the night on a little creek not\nfar from what are now called the Santa Anna Mountains in Coleman\nCounty. A lookout who had been dispatched in the late afternoon to make\nobservation from the nearest mountain had not returned. At dark all\nfires were extinguished and the camp waited. Some time before midnight\nthe lookout dashed in to report that a large band of Indians was\nadvancing within a few miles. The commander of the expedition ordered\nhis men to entrench themselves as best they could and to maintain\nsilence. With them was a very strong negro who had acted as a kind of\nguide. He was well able to dig a hole for the gold, and he was detailed\nwith some of the exhausted Spaniards to hide the treasure. They buried\nit on top of a hill, under a flat rock on which they carved three M\u2019s.\nIt is estimated that pure ore to the value of about ten thousand pesos\nwas buried.\n\nThe detail had barely returned to camp when the Indians began their\nattack. They rushed the camp in overwhelming numbers. Only three\nprisoners were taken, two Spaniards and the negro guide. The Spaniards\nwere burned at the stake at once. The negro was kept as a slave. He\nalone lived to tell the tale.\n\nSome years after his capture, broken and crazed from continual cruelty,\nhe escaped into Mexico. There he seemed always thinking of the death of\nhis troop, and the Mexicans shunned him as bad company except when some\nraider wanted to get his tale of buried gold. He refused many times to\nguide parties back to it. According to him, there was a curse on the\ngold for whoever should find it. No one has ever found it, and if it\never was buried in the Santa Anna Mountains, it is buried there yet.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOLE OF GOLD NEAR WICHITA FALLS\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nI am indebted for this legend to Mr. Bob Nutt of Sabinal. Once in the\nearly days a band of men who were going across the Plains to trade in\nNew Mexico were attacked by Indians somewhere near the present town of\nWichita Falls. They made a corral of their wagons and fought off the\nIndians as long as they could, but when night came they were so thinned\nin numbers and the Indians were so strong that they decided to break\nfor their lives. They broke, and all but one man were speedily\novertaken, killed, and scalped.\n\nThe man who escaped saved his life by stumbling into a hole that lay\nconcealed near a little ravine. It was a kind of pothole with rounded\npebbles at the bottom; among them the man soon noticed what looked like\ngold. He was in a hole of gold nuggets! He remained there for three\ndays, and during all that time he was sorting the nuggets from the\nrocks, digging out the gravelly bottom with his bare hands. He said\nafterward that there must have been a barrel of the nuggets. Finally,\nwhen he could no longer hear Indians, he peeped out. Seeing that the\nway was clear, he bundled up what nuggets he could carry and set out\nfor a distant fort. The Indians had burned all the supplies, with the\nwagons, and on his way to the fort he nearly starved. He had his gun\nbut he was afraid to disclose his whereabouts by shooting at game. At\nlength he grew so weak that he had to throw away all the gold but two\nor three specimen nuggets. He was hardly conscious of the loss when at\nlast he staggered into the army walls.\n\nIt was several years before he could get back into the Wichita country.\nMeanwhile, day and night, he never ceased to think of the hole of gold\nnuggets. The country around it was pictured clear in his memory. The\nexact spot would be located by the irons of the burned wagons. For a\nlong time the man was afraid to tell his secret. At last he returned,\nbut no hill or draw of the region seemed familiar, and he could never\ncome upon the wagon irons or the pothole of nuggets. Some years ago he\ndied in Wichita Falls, leaving his descendants a few nuggets that bore\ntestimony to the truth of his often told tale.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBURIED TREASURE LEGENDS OF COOKE COUNTY\n\nBy Lillian Gunter\n\n\n[In 1759 Parrilla marched from San Antonio with a force of about six\nhundred men and attacked the Taovayas villages on Red River somewhere\nin the vicinity of what is now Montague County, Dr. Herbert E. Bolton\nsays near the present Ringgold. Parrilla found the Indians \u201cintrenched\nbehind a strong stockade with breastworks, flying a French flag, and\nskillfully using French weapons and tactics.\u201d A sanguinary battle\nfollowed, resulting in heavy loss on both sides. The Spanish withdrew,\nleaving \u201ctwo cannon and extra baggage behind.\u201d [71] Seventeen years\nlater the cannon were recovered. [72] In my mind there is no doubt that\nthe long unexplained \u201cOld Spanish Fort\u201d of Miss Gunter\u2019s legend was the\nfortification attacked by Parrilla. [73] The source of the relics\nmentioned by Miss Gunter is accounted for also.\n\nThus is seen again how legend has preserved in a vague way what history\nlong ignored but eventually established. Comparison should be made with\n\u201cThe San Gabriel Mission in Legend.\u201d [74] Again, \u201cOld Spanish Fort\u201d was\nthe name given by Westerners to the ruins of the San Saba presidio\nbefore the history of the site became generally known. [75] The\ndeduction need not be made that legend is always correct in\nanticipating history!\u2014Editor.]\n\n\n\nI\n\nThe buried treasure legends of Cooke County, so far as I have been able\nto investigate, center around two localities. The first legend with its\nvariants is current in the Cross Timbers and relates to that part of\nthe county immediately northwest of Burns City, extending to within a\nfew miles of Gainesville. An outcropping of the legend persists also in\nthe Cross Timbers near Dexter. The descendants of the first settlers,\nsome of whom still live in the country, tell of many hunts for buried\ntreasure made by different people who were guided by maps or oral\ndirections furnished by Mexicans.\n\nMarks of fish, turtles, serpents, and other easily drawn animals were\nonce found on trees and stones; but no master mind, such as reveals\nitself in Poe\u2019s \u201cGold Bug,\u201d came to deduce their true meaning. So the\ntreasure has never been found, although an effort was made to locate it\nquite recently. Most of these marks have long since been removed or\ndestroyed; however, it has been the writer\u2019s fortune to see the outline\nof a crudely cut fish upon the side of a large boulder, probably the\nonly mark of its kind left in the county.\n\nIt may interest Texas readers to know that in support of the claim that\nthis part of what is now Cooke County was visited by Spanish explorers,\nthere now repose in the Cooke County museum, which is a part of the\ncounty library, a one-pound brass cannon ball, picked up one mile\nnorthwest of Burns City, and a brass spear-head, found in a gravel\ndrift near Dexter. Brass cannon balls went out of date long before\nAmericans ever reached this part of Texas; and, as an old Texas ranger\nhas pointed out, the only metal that the Indians used for their spear\nand arrow heads was iron\u2014not brass.\n\n\n\nII\n\nBy far the most widespread and generally known legend of Cooke County\nand vicinity deals with the Red River front; i.e., that part of it\nextending from Spanish Fort Bend on the west nearly to Preston Bend on\nthe east, thus extending into both Montague and Grayson counties.\n\nMr. Pete Davidson, who came to Cooke County about 1856 to live with his\ntwo uncles, Captain Rowland of the Texas Rangers, and Doctor Davidson,\nproprietor of the first station west of Gainesville for the Overland\nStage Route, his station having been located on Blocker Creek, relates\nthat he made his first trip to Spanish Fort in 1857. \u201cAt that time,\u201d he\nsays, \u201cthe earthworks were still plainly discernible and would hide a\ncow or horse from observation from the outside. Good-sized trees were\nthen growing from the top of the earthworks, showing that a long time\nhad elapsed since they were thrown up. The country was still virgin\nprairie, and every once in a while you could see the bleached bones of\na human skeleton, showing that some sort of battle had been fought\nthere; but some of the skeletons were so small that they must have been\nof women or children who were among either the Indians or the soldiers\nof the fort.\u201d Just before his death in 1922, Mr. Davidson told me that\nhe had recently made a trip to Spanish Fort Bend, though not to the\nfort itself, with a man who was seeking to trace the locations on an\nold Mexican map that called for a tree on a bluff where the river\ntouched and turned south. This tree, so the man claimed, was the\nlocation of the long sought buried treasure; and, indeed, the old\nMexican map and the lone tree on a bluff skirted by the water are\nessentials of all the Red River legends of buried treasure.\n\nFor years an old fellow dug for treasure on the Oklahoma side, just\nacross from Sivill\u2019s Bend where the river turns south to make in a\ntwenty-mile sweep the biggest bend in its whole course. West of Dexter,\nnear Walnut Bend, tradition calls for another location of similar\nmarks, but here the treasure is said to be buried on the Texas side.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nIt is noticeable that none of these legends refer to gold and silver\nbut always to treasure. As I have been able to piece it together, the\nlegend is this.\n\nIn a very early day a Spanish exploring party passed through this\ncountry, going in a northeasterly direction. As was the custom, the\nexpedition included a large number of monks and priests with all the\nholy vessels and rich paraphernalia necessary to administer  to the\nspiritual needs of the party itself and to convert the heathen Indians\naccording to the ritual of the Catholic church. Unfortunately the\naborigines proved unfriendly and disputed the way to such an extent\nthat the ranks of the Spaniards were decimated, and the remnant saw\nthat they were going to be hard put to it to make an escape. Rather\nthan have their holy vessels, valuable in a material way, but more\nprecious spiritually, desecrated by savage touch, they decided to bury\nthem. In selecting a suitable place for this operation they bore in\nmind that it must be stable, above the reach of the mighty river or the\nchanges made by the hand of man under ordinary conditions; so they\nselected a bold promontory on the river, as stated above.\n\nWhen the treasure was buried, not one, but several rude maps of the\nlocation were undoubtedly made, probably each by a different person.\nThese maps were in the nature of things ambiguous, and the legends\ntouching them furnish much food for speculation.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TREASURE CANNON ON THE NECHES\n\nBy Roscoe Martin\n\n\n[The treasure rammed cannon is more or less common to Texas legends.\nThe early Spanish in Texas sometimes buried cannon on account of\nmilitary expediency, [76] and it may be that the modern tradition\nconnects back with such disposition of artillery, although the\ntradition is doubtless widespread. [77] A Spanish cannon stuffed with\ntreasure is supposed to lie deep buried in a lake near Carrizo Springs,\nDimmit County. [78] On the banks of the Big Sandy (or \u201cSandies\u201d) of\nLavaca County, legend has buried a third cannon. Mr. Whitley of\nMcMullen County told me the story connected with it. He heard it half a\ncentury ago from a veteran of the \u201cMexican War\u201d (War of Texas\nIndependence) in the Refugio country. The veteran was named White, as I\nremember.\n\nWhen the Mexicans were retreating from San Jacinto towards Goliad,\nWhite was in the pursuing party of Texans. The Texans camped for the\nnight on the eastern bank of the Big Sandies, and the next morning when\nWhite walked out to gather some firewood, he discovered that the\nMexicans had been at the same site twenty-four hours before. Besides\nthe usual camp signs, there was the trail of something that had been\ndragged to a motte of trees and buried. The marks of the digging were\nas plain as daylight. White supposed that one of the wounded Mexicans\nhad died and been buried.\n\nYears later he fell in with an old Mexican who turned out to have been\nin the retreat from San Jacinto. Naturally the two veterans reviewed\ntheir march.\n\n\u201cThere is one thing I have often thought about, though it seemed simple\nto me at the time,\u201d said White one day to the Mexican. \u201cThat is the\ndrag-trail I saw at you-all\u2019s camp east of the Big Sandies. What made\nit, anyhow?\u201d\n\nThen the Mexican told how he had helped to drag a small cannon plugged\nfull of rings, jewels, and money, and had seen it buried. The Mexicans\nintended to come back for it very soon, he said; they were bent at the\ntime on getting away with their bare lives. But when it was known that\nTexas had won her independence and that the country was settling up\nwith men bitter towards Mexico, the scattered men who buried the cannon\nwere afraid to come back.\n\nThe upshot of the Mexican\u2019s explanation was that he and White went to\nthe Big Sandies in search of the precious cannon. They found the\ncountry cut up by fences and fields and grown up in timber so that they\ncould not locate a single landmark.\n\nIt will not harm Mr. Martin\u2019s vivid narrative to remark that after the\nbattle of San Jacinto, Burleson with a detachment of troops followed\nthe Mexicans westward across the Brazos and San Bernard, instead of\ngoing northward. At the time of the battle, General Ganoa, with a small\nnumber of Mexican troops, was at Fort Bend on the Brazos with orders to\nproceed to Nacogdoches; but immediately after the battle he received\norders to retreat to Mexico and he joined in the general retirement.\n[79]\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nIn the fall of 1920 I was one of a hunting party that camped for about\ntwo weeks in Tyler County on the Neches River. Our guide for the trip\nwas \u201cUncle Jimmy\u201d Clanton, a typical old hunter and pioneer, whose head\nwas full of stories of Indians and buried treasure. Some of these\nstories were obviously concoctions of his own mind, but others were\nbased on historical facts, with, of course, touches of glamour and\nromance which had grown into the story gradually through constant\ntelling and retelling. His best-loved story, one which I took great\ndelight in listening to more than once during those two weeks and which\nwas common chatter among the backwoodsmen of the locality, is related\nbelow. It was, I think, on the second night of our camp that he lighted\nhis pipe, settled down with his back to a tree, and told us the\nfollowing tale.\n\n\u201cMy father was in the Texas Revolution of 1836. He was in all the\nearlier fights and skirmishes of the war, and was one of the men who\nhelped capture Santa Anna at San Jacinto. After the treaty of peace was\nsigned, or maybe it was just before the war ended, he was sent to\nNacogdoches in a company under Burleson to drive out the Mexicans that\nheld the fort there. This is really where my story begins. You-all have\nlikely read some of this in history, but I\u2019ll tell you some things that\nnever got in history at all.\n\n\u201cBurleson\u2019s bunch got to Nacogdoches late one evening and decided to\nwait till morning to storm the fort. They camped for the night a mile\nor so away, and bright and early next morning they marched on the fort.\nThey were some surprised at not getting fired at, and still more\nsurprised when they got up close enough to see that there wasn\u2019t a soul\nstirring in or about the fort. Burleson ordered a grand charge, and his\narmy of about fifty men charged, only to find nobody there to receive\nthem. The men nosed around a little, found the Mexicans\u2019 trail leading\ndue south, and determined to follow them. The trail was fresh and the\nMexes were traveling with wagons; so they figgered they could come up\non them before dark. You see, the men had been hearing stories about\nthe bunches of gold the Mexicans had; so they were pretty keen to catch\nup with them wagons.\n\n\u201cWell, they pulled out down the trail, traveling full speed ahead and\nmaking good time. They rode all that day without seeing the enemy, but\nthey knew they were getting close because the trail was getting\nfresher. They camped that night about fifty miles from Nacogdoches, and\nhit the trail agin early next morning. About ten o\u2019clock they come upon\na couple of wagons, and figgered that the dagoes were getting scared\nand leaving all unnecessary junk behind. They pushed on without\nstopping for dinner, and about three o\u2019clock sighted the Mexicans\ntrying to cross the river at Boone\u2019s Ferry. That ferry is about two\nmile up the river. I can show it to you in the morning.\n\n\u201cAs soon as the Texans saw the Mexicans, they made a dash, hoping to\nget a fight before they had time to cross the river. Just as they got\nup within shooting distance, the ferry-boat landed on the opposite side\nof the river with a wagon and three Mexicans. The wagon drove off, but\nthe Texans were too busy at the time to notice any details. The Mexes\ntook to the timber and there was a right lively little scrap. Paw was\nlying behind a log firing away, when he looked up in time to see three\nmen on the other side rolling a cannon along toward the river. They\nrolled it up to a high bluff and dumped it right off into the deepest\nhole in ten miles. He said he wondered at the time what the idea was,\nbut was more interested in number one than in cannons; so he didn\u2019t\ntake time to investigate.\n\n\u201cTo make a long story short, about fifteen of the Mexicans were killed\nand the rest captured. That is, they were all captured except the three\nmen that got across the river. A detachment was sent after them, but\nthey got away. The wagon, empty as a last year\u2019s bird\u2019s nest, and one\ndead Mexican, were found about a mile and a half away from the river,\nbut the other two had disappeared completely. Burleson rounded up his\nbunch and his prisoners, and found that he had lost only one man, who\nhad drowned when he got chased off the bluff into the river. He\nreported to Houston with his prisoners, and that was the end of the\nexpedition.\n\n\u201cAs soon as Paw got out of the army, he come back up into this country\nand settled. His old homestead is about eight mile from here. He used\nto take me up the river often and show me where the battle took place,\nwhere the ferry-boat used to land, and where the cannon was pushed into\nthe river. He used to talk a whole lot about that cannon, and to wonder\nwhat the idea was in dumping it into the river. He also wondered a good\nbit about what was in that wagon that the Mexicans had been so anxious\nto get across the river with. We never could quite decide why they were\nso bent on crossing the river with an empty wagon.\n\n\u201cWell, the things that happened in the next few years won\u2019t interest\nyou any. Paw died when I was ten years old, but I remembered all he had\never told me about the fight. When the Civil War broke out, I joined\nthe Confederate Army, fought through the war, then come back to my\nfolks here. About 1875 things begin to happen that made me remember\neverything I had ever heard about the fight at Boone\u2019s Ferry.\n\n\u201cIn or about that year, a slick-haired young Mexican come into the\nneighborhood and begin nosing around. He didn\u2019t appear to have any\nparticular business here, but seemed to be just looking around for\nsomebody or something. After he\u2019d been here for a month or two he come\nto me one day and says that, as I was the oldest man in these parts,\nhe\u2019d like to make me a proposition. I didn\u2019t get the connection between\nmy age and his proposition, but agreed to listen; so we got down to\nwhat he wanted. He had a map that he claimed he got in an old monastery\nin Mexico, and that map proved to be right interesting. It outlined a\npiece of country beginning at Nacogdoches and coming due south. The end\nof the trail marked off was just about a mile and a half across the\nriver, and the crossing was marked \u2018Boone\u2019s Ferry.\u2019 I become all eyes\nand ears at once, specially when he started his story. He asked me if I\nknew where Boone\u2019s Ferry was, and I says, \u2018Sure.\u2019 Then he opened up:\n\n\u201c\u2018My grandfather was with the Mexican band that was defeated by\nBurleson at this ferry. He was one of the two men that got away. Are\nyou by any chance acquainted with the details of the battle?\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I says, \u2018Some. My paw was in the fight, and has told me about it\nmany a time.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Did he ever tell you about seeing a cannon shoved off in the river?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Many a time,\u2019 says I.\n\n\u201c\u2018Mr. Clanton, did it ever occur to you to wonder just why that cannon\nwas thrown into the river?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well,\u2019 I says, \u2018I\u2019ve wondered about it lots of times.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll tell you why,\u2019 he says, getting kinder excited, but lowering his\nvoice. \u2018It was filled from end to end with gold!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Gold!\u2019 I whistled. \u2018So that\u2019s it.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, that\u2019s it,\u2019 he says. \u2018Not only that, but I have in my pocket\nanother map giving the exact location of more gold, beginning with the\nferry as a center. You see, the wagon that crossed the river carried a\nchest of money. The three men that were with it went on till they\nbecame afraid of being overtaken; then they buried it. They had a\nquarrel over it, and one of them shot another to shut him up. Then he\nand my grandfather took down some landmarks on a crude map, and pulled\nfor Mexico. On the way the other Mexican died, leaving my grandfather\nwith the map. He died before he could come back and get the money. My\nfather was killed by bandits; so I was left with the one and original\nmap of the buried treasure. With your help, your knowledge of the\ncountry around here, and so forth, we should be able to locate that\nchest and the cannon easy. Now, I propose to give you half of whatever\nwe find. If we don\u2019t find anything, you don\u2019t get anything. What do you\nsay?\u2019\n\n\u201cYou-all can easily guess that I jumped right on his offer. He showed\nme the other map, and I located the landmarks as near as I could on the\nmap; we got our tools together, and started our treasure hunt. We\nlooked for the cannon first, because I knew exactly where it should be.\nWe dredged and dredged and fished and fished for that thing, but never\ncould locate it. You see, it took about a forty-foot jump off into the\nriver and it had had about forty years to settle; so I guess it must\nhave been several feet deep in river mud when we were hunting it. We\nfinally gave up hopes of finding it and went to hunting the chest. The\nmap called for three landmarks all an equal distance apart. The chest\nwas supposed to be buried in the center of the triangle made by these\npoints. We found the first one, a big rock in a funny shape, without\nany trouble at all. The others were big pine trees, but all the trees\nin that country had been cut down and rafted down the river since the\nmap was made; so we couldn\u2019t ever find the other two marks. We sighted\noff places by every tree-stump in that neighborhood and dug down at the\npoints we found, but must not ever have sighted by the right stumps.\nAnyhow, we hunted gold for about two months and never found a cent of\nanything. The Mexican finally got discouraged and went home, but I got\na copy of his map and have been looking for that money off and on ever\nsince.\n\n\u201cAnd I guess that\u2019s about all there is to it. If any of you-all want to\nsee where the ferry was and where the cannon was rolled off into the\nriver, we\u2019ll go up there in the morning and look around.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DREAM WOMAN AND THE WHITE ROSE BUSH\n\nBy Mary A. Sutherland\n\n\nThis story, or legend, or what you will, was told me by an\nex-Confederate soldier, an intelligent man.\n\n\u201cAfter the war I got back to Texas broke, as were all my people, but I\nbought a little farm in Leon County on credit, married, and began to\nbuild a home. I was progressing fairly well when one summer I had a\ndream, or vision. I was sleeping on the gallery, my wife and two small\nchildren occupying the bed just inside the door.\n\n\u201cI saw a woman come into the yard through the gate, a strange looking\nwoman with strange headgear and queer dress, and I marveled that my\nfierce watch dogs did not attack her. She came to the side of the\ngallery and said in a clear voice: \u2018Dig in your little pasture and you\nwill find treasure.\u2019\n\n\u201cI sat up and watched her go out of the gate, just as she had come, and\ncould hardly persuade myself that what I saw was a dream. The next\nmorning I told my wife of the dream\u2014and then forgot it. Now the little\npasture was a few fenced acres near the house where we kept our milk\ncalves. It was drouth stricken; the soil was hard and dry and had no\ngrowth except a few brambles.\n\n\u201cNot many nights later while I lay as before, the same woman came\nagain. I saw her plainly in the moonlight. She spoke, very quietly but\ndistinctly, the same words: \u2018Dig in your little pasture. Dig beneath\nthe white rose.\u2019\n\n\u201cNow I knew that there was no growth in the little pasture excepting\nthe few brambles I have mentioned. But on my telling my wife of seeing\nthe woman again in a dream, she said: \u2018Come on; let\u2019s look for roses.\u2019\nAnd catching my hand, she laughingly dragged me to the pasture. There,\nas sure as I am a Reb, we found a rose bush with two white flowers on\nit. Then we got busy, but, after digging down about two feet, I found a\nlarge rock and quit.\n\n\u201cThe story got out and I became the butt of many jokes. A few months\nafterward my brother-in-law offered me a fancy price for the place and\nI quit farming. Later on in the year I noticed that the little pasture\nhad been plowed\u2014the only mark of improvement noticeable. About the same\ntime I noticed my brother-in-law buying property, including a fine\nfamily carriage, sending his daughter to boarding school, and getting\nhimself elected to the state legislature. Maybe there was something\nunder the roses.\u201d\n\nAfter the \u201cReb\u201d had told me the foregoing story, I heard from his wife\nthat a legend about their farm was current in the settlement. According\nto the commonly told account, three men camped one night in the\nvicinity of the \u201clittle pasture.\u201d In the morning one of them went to a\nsettler\u2019s cabin nearby to borrow tools, saying that one of their party\nhad died during the night from wounds received in an Indian fight a few\ndays before. The man declined all offer of help from the wife and\ndaughter of the settler\u2014the settler himself being absent\u2014but after the\ncampers had departed, the women went out, smoothing the ground over the\nmound and placing a stone above it.\n\nNow what they buried or why no one knows to this day, but, as was\nremarked at the time, their horses bore marks of long travel. The women\nof the cabin saw three men arrive; they saw the mound; they saw three\nmen depart. If a dying comrade was with them, they asked no aid.\n\nIt only remains to be said that, though a fine man, Mr. H\u2014, the teller\nof this story, was the kind of man who would miss a chance at wealth\nrather than incur the ridicule of neighbors or exert himself in raising\na stone.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSTEINHEIMER\u2019S MILLIONS\n\nBy L. D. Bertillion\n\n\nIt seems that almost all of the people in the rural districts of Bell,\nFalls, and Williamson counties must know something of Steinheimer\u2019s ten\njack loads of hidden treasure, for it is continually being searched for\nand has been searched for over a long period of years. The search has\nextended to many places, the locations varying as much as seven miles.\nSome claim that the treasure is buried at Reed\u2019s Lake; others, at\nBugess Lake; but the general opinion is that it is buried at what is\nknown as the Three Forks. All of these places are in Bell County. The\nSteinheimer map is believed to be in the hands of persons residing in\nold Mexico, but how it got to Mexico no one seems to know. However,\nMexicans searching for the treasure have claimed to have the map or a\nduplicate of it. Various white men have worked with these maps; others\nhave used \u201cgold rods\u201d and similar instruments.\n\nMy own version of the story I secured from a man named Frank Ellis. He\nsecured his information from a man named Nalley Jones, who, in turn,\ngot his account from three Mexicans who spent three months searching\nfor the treasure. There are forty other versions in and around Bell\nCounty. Some people will give you the exact amount of the treasure in\ndollars, but the consensus of opinion is that it was what could be\ncarried on ten Mexican jacks. I have termed the treasure \u201cmillions\u201d and\nconsider my version of the story as nearly correct as any.\n\nAccording to legendary information, Karl Steinheimer was born near\nSpeyer, Germany, in 1793. At the age of eleven he ran away from home,\nbecame a sailor, and, in spite of his limited school attendance,\nacquired the fluent use of seven languages and a fair knowledge of\nthree other languages. While yet in his teens he took a prominent part\nin several piratical expeditions, and by the time he had reached the\nage of twenty-one, captains commanding pirate vessels frequently sought\nhis advice, for which he was liberally paid.\n\nAmong the pirate captains who came to Steinheimer was Louis Aury, [80]\nwho sought counsel relative to traffic in negro slaves between Cuba and\nAmerica. Steinheimer gave his advice and ended by furnishing a\nconsiderable amount of capital to the enterprise. Later, when Aury\nvisited the Island of Galveston, which Steinheimer had recommended as a\nrendezvous, he was so well pleased with Steinheimer\u2019s ability that he\nand others concerned unanimously made him dictator over the gang of\nslave dealers and sea terrors. However, on account of a broken leg,\nSteinheimer left the island but once during his dictatorship. That was\nwhen he made a run to Cuba in 1817. This hugging of a land berth by\nSteinheimer brought about a break with Aury, which resulted in a\ndissolution of partnership and the abandonment of the island by the\nslave smugglers.\n\nSoon after the break, Steinheimer went far into the mountainous\ninterior of Mexico and became interested in mining operations. In\nMarch, 1827, news reached him that Hayden Edwards, the noted Texas\nempresario, had started a revolution for the purpose of freeing Texas\nfrom Mexico, and had established the Republic of Fredonia. [81]\nThereupon Steinheimer, in the hope of becoming dictator to a new\ncountry, decided to make his way to Edwards\u2019 forces and to offer his\nassistance in person and in money. However, when he reached Monterrey\nhe learned that the revolt had been put down and that Edwards and his\nfollowers had fled to the United States. Thus disappointed in his\nplans, Steinheimer returned to his mines in Mexico. Here he was\nprosperous and contented until the latter part of 1838, when he\nsuddenly learned something that turned all his plans upside down and\neventually brought about his death.\n\nHe learned that a sweetheart of his boyhood days in Europe was living\nin St. Louis, and was as yet unmarried. Immediately he arranged to\nleave for St. Louis. His affairs closed, he found that his fortune\namounted to ten jack loads of silver and gold. His purpose was to carry\nthe entire fortune with him, and he picked two men to aid him.\n\nWhen Steinheimer got to Matamoros, he found that, notwithstanding Santa\nAnna\u2019s defeat nearly three years before, Mexico still hoped to\nrepossess Texas. As a preliminary to conquest, one Manuel Flores with a\nfew warriors was preparing to start from Matamoros early in 1839 for\nNacogdoches, his mission being to instigate an Indian uprising in\nTexas. Learning further that the Apaches were both numerous and hostile\nnorth of the San Antonio road, Steinheimer decided to wait for Flores\nand his party. He waited until early spring and then the entire company\nset out. When they reached the Colorado River, they were dismayed to\nlearn that General Burleson was advancing on them and that an\nengagement was only a matter of hours. Here we may safely presume that\nthere was a secret compact between Flores and Steinheimer. At any rate,\nthe adventurer was permitted to slightly out-distance Flores and to\nswitch his men and burros some miles north. Consequently, when Flores\nmet his doom, [82] Steinheimer was unknown to the Texans.\n\nAfter a complete rest for his men and animals, he cautiously picked his\nway across prairies and canyons, avoiding all trails, until he reached\na place where three streams intersect and combine into one. Here he\ndecided to bury all of his fortune but one small package of gold that\nmight be needed for immediate use. Accordingly, he unpacked the burros\nand concealed their freight. The only mark made to designate the spot\nof concealment was a large brass spike driven into an oak tree some\nforty or sixty feet away, the spike being of the type used to take the\nplace of bolts in early boat construction. The animals that had so\nfaithfully borne the treasure over mountains and deserts were now\nliberated, and with his two trusted men Steinheimer took a southeastern\ndirection.\n\nWhen they had traveled, as he judged, some twelve or fourteen miles,\nthey came to what, in his meager descriptions that have come down to\nus, he terms \u201ca bunch of knobs on the prairie,\u201d from the tops of which\nthey could see a great valley skirted with timber some ten miles east.\nWhile they were getting their bearings from these knobs, the party was\nattacked by the Indians. Steinheimer\u2019s two aides were both killed\noutright, and he escaped badly wounded. He hid himself on the center\nhill of the group, and here it was that he buried his remaining gold,\nwith the exception of six Spanish coins, the place of deposit not\nmarked. In the encounter he had lost his mount and supplies, though he\nstill had gun and some ammunition.\n\nHe set out afoot, choosing a northern direction, subsisting as best he\ncould off roots and water, for he was afraid to shoot at game until he\nwas out of the vicinity of the Indians. Finally he got to where he\ncould kill meat. But now his wounds were growing more painful, and at\nthe juncture when he thought that gangrene was setting up in them, he\nfell into the hands of some travelers.\n\nRealizing the threat of immediate death, he made a crude map as best he\ncould of the region of his buried millions and wrote to his early\nsweetheart a concise account of his fortunes and misfortunes, informing\nher of the critical condition in which he was writing. He explained\nthat the strangers to whom he was entrusting this message knew nothing\nof his name or history and would get nothing of his but the six Spanish\ncoins. Finally, he requested that she keep his message secret for three\nmonths. If he recovered, he would, he explained, reach St. Louis by the\nexpiration of that time; if he did not arrive, she was to understand\nthat he was dead and that his fortune was hers. These are the last\ntidings of Steinheimer; it is, therefore, to be presumed that death was\nquite as near as he had supposed.\n\nIn the course of time the letter reached its destination, but a number\nof years passed before conditions in Texas were such that the relatives\nof the lady felt that they could look for the treasure with any degree\nof safety. Then after months of search and inquiry they were convinced\nthat the three streams referred to in the directions were the Nolan,\nthe Lampasas, and the Leon, which unite not far from the present town\nof Belton to form what is now called Little River. Here must lie the\nvast fortune. In consequence, it is deduced that the small parcel of\ngold could not be over two or three miles from the town of Rogers, in\nBell County also, as near it are what are, indeed, still called the\nKnobs, a small bunch of hills lying between the Santa Fe and \u201cKaty\u201d\nrailroads, at about the charted distance from the Three Forks.\n\nWhile, as I said in the beginning, the history of Steinheimer\u2019s buried\nwealth is at present known to many persons, there is no evidence that\nany part of it has ever been found, despite the great amount of time\nand money that have been spent in quest of it. Alike unknown is the\nplace of the death and burial of the man Steinheimer, though he was\nonce notorious both on land and sea. Unknown is he, too, to the\nhistories of the several countries in which he lived. The relatives who\ncame to Texas in search of the vast fortune bequeathed to the lady in\nsuch a strange manner were careful never to reveal her name. And this\nis perhaps the first time that the name of Steinheimer has appeared\nbefore the general public. [83]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNIVELY LEGEND\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nI\n\nMajor, or Colonel, Jacob Snively (also spelled Schnively) led the kind\nof life that inspires legend. [84] In 1843 he headed an expedition to\ncapture a great Mexican wagon train on its way from St. Louis to Santa\nFe; but he was balked in his design by United States troops, and his\nmen were disarmed in New Mexico and sent back to Texas. A quarter of a\ncentury later, in 1867, he aided in raising a second expedition of\nabout one hundred men to go up the Rio Grande in search of gold reputed\nto be inestimably plentiful. His base of organization was Williamson\nCounty, and one would fain identify this Snively with the Snively of\nMiss von Blittersdorf\u2019s legend of Milam County, which adjoins\nWilliamson. It is known that Snively was at one time looking for the\nold San Gabriel Mission, cornering on which he claimed thirty leagues\nof land. [85] If he found the ruins, his nature would certainly have\nprovoked him to do a little treasure hunting. However, Colonel Snively\nis said to have died in Arizona, a citizen of California. [86] A little\npersonal investigation among the records and oldest inhabitants of\nWilliamson and Milam counties would no doubt disclose interesting\ninformation about Colonel Snively and probably establish a close\nrelationship between him and the Snively of Miss von Blittersdorf\u2019s\nlegend. I regret that I have been unable to conduct such investigation.\n\nFrom a veteran, more than eighty years old, of the Texas Rangers and of\nthe Civil War, the elder Mr. Burton of Austin, two legends connected\nwith Snively\u2019s two respective expeditions have come to me.\n\n\n\nII\n\nWhen Snively\u2019s men were disbanded in New Mexico in 1843, they came back\nto the Texas settlements more eager than ever for Mexican prey. About\nthe time of their return a Mexican train was going across the Republic\nwith a cargo of money for St. Louis. By agreement with the Texas\nauthorities it was accompanied by a detachment of Texas Rangers, who\ntraveled nearly a day\u2019s ride behind. The Mexicans distrusted them; yet\nthey wanted them, for they were afraid of the Snively gang. At Red\nRiver they expected to be met by United States troops, who could not\ncross into Texas. When the advance scout of the train came in sight of\nRed River, he saw two men riding towards him, and at once concluded\nthat they were Snively bandits. He galloped back and reported them as\nsuch to the train. The Mexicans at once began a retreat and a safe\ndisposition of their precious cargo.\n\nOn a hill about a mile south of a cottonwood tree that grew on the bank\nof Red River, four or five hundred yards below an old Spanish crossing,\nthey buried five hundred dollars. On the top of the next hill south of\nthat they buried five hundred more. These two deposits were to be\nmarkers and were buried in shallow holes. On the third hill they buried\nthe remainder of their money, many thousands. Then they destroyed their\nwagons and beat back towards the Rio Grande as best they could. They\nhad become convinced that their escort, even though kept a day\u2019s ride\nbehind, was in collusion with the supposed Snively gang. Very shortly\nafter this event the Mexican War broke out, and by the time it was over\nand affairs had settled down in Texas so that Mexicans could travel\ninland with security, most of the little band of gold transporters had\ndied or had been killed in battle. The remnant had forgotten the\nlocation of the money. Men, though, still look for the tree on Red\nRiver bank, below an old crossing, with a line of three hills to the\nsouth.\n\nMr. Tom L. Walker of Montague County, which fronts on Red River, has\nsupplied me a legend somewhat similar to the foregoing. He says that it\nis current in the county. About 1856 four white men and six Mexicans\nwere transporting a wagon load of gold bullion across Texas from Mexico\nto St. Louis. Near the Illinois Bend of Red River they were set on by\nComanches, and dumped their gold into a lake. Only one of them, a\nMexican named Gonzales, survived the attack. He would never return to\nthe site of his terrible experience. In 1890 some men went from\nMontague County to Mexico City to interview the old man. They found\nhim, but he was blind, crippled, and feeble. He could only tell them\nthat the gold was \u201con the south side of the largest of the lakes.\u201d Time\nhad so shifted the positions of the lakes, however, that the men who\ngot the information could never determine where to make a thorough\nexcavation.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nSnively\u2019s second expedition belongs in a large way to lost treasure\nlore. In Hunter\u2019s Magazine for January, 1911, page 5, John Warren\nHunter has an article on \u201cThe Schnively Expedition,\u201d in which he quotes\n\u201cBud\u201d (W. H.) Robinson\u2019s account of the two gold hunting expeditions\nthat Snively and Colonel William C. Dalrymple, of Williamson County,\norganized in 1867 and 1868. The first was made up of only sixteen men\nand was turned back by the Indians; the second, much larger, was able\nto ward off the Indians, but it could not locate the gold that had been\nso luringly promised by Snively.\n\n\u201cFrom the Pecos,\u201d says Robinson as quoted by Hunter, \u201cthe expedition\nwent forward and finally reached Eagle Springs, not a great distance\nfrom the Rio Grande. This was to be our camping place, as Mr. Schnively\nhad told us that the gold mine was in the vicinity of the springs. He\nsaid he had first received information from a dying soldier touching\nthe existence of gold in the region and later he had prospected and\nfound the mine. He knew right where to go to point out the location, he\nsaid.\u201d\n\nBut evidently Snively did not know. His men came to believe that he had\nnever before visited the place but had raised the expedition in order\nto have protection in his prospecting. In anger and in disappointment\nthe expedition broke up, the men scattering to the four winds. And here\nmy informant, the old Texas Ranger, takes up the tale. Some of the men,\nhe says, came back home; some went on to California and to Colorado;\nsome continued prospecting in a westerly direction. Three of them got\nlost in the desert, and while trying to make their way to the Rio\nGrande came into what must have been the Apache Canyon.\n\nIn that canyon they stumbled upon two Mexican carts loaded with gold\nbullion. About were the bleached skeletons of men and oxen, the remains\nof some old Spanish gold plundering expedition that had perished in the\ndesert. Some men used to say that Coronado\u2019s men must have started back\nwith this gold. The three Texans loaded themselves with the precious\nmetal, but before very long they had to cast it away in their struggle\nto reach water. Fortunately, they did reach water and were saved. Later\nthey equipped themselves and went back into the desert to take the\nimmense wealth. They could never find it. Landmarks are scarce in that\ncountry. Very likely, too, the shifting sands of the desert had covered\nthe wagons with their freight of gold. They may be uncovered some day;\nif so, it will likely be for only a day or an hour, and the man who\nsees them will probably be perishing for water, so that the sight of\nthem and the white bones near will strike him as a terrible prophecy\nrather than as a life-time of hope realized.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBURIED TREASURE LEGENDS OF MILAM COUNTY\n\nBy Louise von Blittersdorf\n\nThese legends were told me by Mr. Mike Welch, an old gentleman living\nnear Thorndale.\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE SAN GABRIEL MISSION IN LEGEND\n\n\n[Although up to ten years ago Texas history had hardly recognized the\nexistence of the San Gabriel missions, legend had kept the fact and the\nplace green for generations. In April, 1914, an article by Dr. Herbert\nE. Bolton, on \u201cThe Founding of the Missions on the San Gabriel River,\n1745\u20131749,\u201d appeared in the Southwestern Historical Quarterly. The next\nyear Dr. Bolton\u2019s book entitled Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century\nwas issued by the University of California Press; in it pages 135\u2013278\ntreat of \u201cThe San Xavier Missions.\u201d These are the main and almost only\naccessible sources for whoever would know the history of the San\nGabriel missions. There were three missions, the principal and most\nenduring one being the Mission San Francisco Xavier de Horcasitas\n(1748\u20131755). The name San Xavier was later corrupted into San Gabriel.\n[87] The San Gabriel missions had trouble with the Indians, and it is a\nfact that a priest, Father Ganz\u00e1bal, as in the legend, was killed by\nthem. [88]\n\nBefore the mission was abandoned in 1755, legend had seized upon it;\nand when Dr. Bolton discovered the site hardly a dozen years ago, he\nfound that legend had kept treasure hunters familiar with the grounds\nand ruins. [89] He quotes Father Mariano, [90] priest of the time, on\nlegendary causes that contributed to the final abandonment of the\nmission: \u201cThe sacrilegious homicides having been perpetrated, the\nelements at once conspired, declaring divine justice provoked; for in\nthe sky appeared a ball of fire so horrible that all were terrified,\nand with so notable a circumstance that it circled from the presidio to\nthe mission of the Occisos [Orcoquiza], and returned to the same\npresidio, when it exploded with a noise as loud as could be made by a\nheavily loaded cannon. The river ceased to run, and its waters became\nso corrupt that they were extremely noxious and intolerable to the\nsmell. The air became so infected that all who went to the place, even\nthough merely passing, became infected by the pest, which became so\nmalicious that many of the inhabitants died, and we all found ourselves\nin the last extremes of life. Finally, the land became so accursed that\nwhat had been a beautiful plain became converted into a thicket, in\nwhich opened horrible crevices that caused terror. And the inhabitants\nbecame so put to it, in order to escape the complete extermination that\nthreatened them, that they moved more than thirty leagues away, with no\nother permission than that granted them by the natural right to save\ntheir own lives.\u201d\n\nWe learn how rich was the San Gabriel Mission, for whose cross of solid\ngold men have blithely sought, when we read that the total properties\ntransported from it and its two sister missions, including six bells,\nwere inventoried at $1804.50. [91]\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nIn the early days of Texas, when the missionaries were bringing old\nworld civilization to the new world, there stood a mission on the San\nGabriel River between what are now the towns of San Gabriel and\nRockdale. The mission was a thriving one, and before many months a\nlarge rock church had been built. The crowning glory of this church was\na solid gold cross on the steeple.\n\nMany converts were made to the new religion, and the small community\nsoon became so powerful that the Indians began to fear it and decided\nto put an end to it. Accordingly, they murdered the priest there. The\nsurviving Spaniards decided to abandon the mission at once. First, they\nburied the body of the murdered priest; then they took the cross from\nthe steeple of the church and buried it, together with some gold found\nin the priest\u2019s possession, until they should have time to return for\nit and carry it away. By covering the gold with charcoal and ashes,\nthey took precautions that no mineral rod should locate it.\n\nMany years later a church was being built in Mexico, and an old Mexican\nwho had heard from his ancestors the story of the buried cross and\ntreasure, came to the priest and prevailed upon him to go to the San\nGabriel River and try to find the gold cross to put on the new church.\nDuring the journey the Mexican died, leaving with his companion\ndirections for finding the cross. Duties back home were urging the\npriest\u2019s return, and when he met a young Irishman named Mike Welch, he\nentrusted him with the secret and obtained his promise to carry on the\nsearch. With two men to help him, Mr. Welch went to the site of the old\nmission. Digging a certain distance from a specified tree, the men\nunearthed the skeleton of the priest together with a small crucifix.\nThen, according to directions, they measured the distance from the\ngrave to the nearest corner of the church and began to dig again. They\ncame at last to some charcoal and ashes and knew that they were near\nthe object of their search. One of Mr. Welch\u2019s men took sick, however,\nand, as it was nearly dark, they decided to postpone further digging\nuntil morning. That night the other man slipped away from camp. As soon\nas Mr. Welch discovered next morning that one of his helpers was\nmissing, he went to the unfinished hole. There he saw where a large pot\nhad been taken out. It is well understood that the gold cross and other\ntreasures were found and stolen away. The thief left that part of the\ncountry and has never been heard of since. Mr. Welch kept the crucifix\nuntil a few years ago, when it was lost.\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE GOLD PROTECTED BY SNIVELY\u2019S GHOST\n\nAn old man by the name of Snively once lived near what is now Thorndale\nin Milam County. He owned a great deal of property along the San\nGabriel River. One night some Mexicans with nine jack loads of stolen\ngold passed near Snively\u2019s house. The times were troublesome, and\ntraveling was beset with dangers. When the Mexicans neared the river,\nthey decided that it would be well to bury their cargo here and wait\nfor more peaceful times to carry it on into Mexico. After they had put\nit in the ground and covered it over with isinglass to prevent its\nbeing discovered by a mineral rod, they realized that the only sure and\nsafe protection would be to bury a man with the gold. No one of them\nseemed willing to give his life to such a cause; so in search of a\nvictim they rode back to the house they had passed. They found Snively\nalone. They made him swear to protect the gold, then killed him and\nburied him with it. Then they marked the site and went on their\nway\u2014never to return.\n\nMany have searched for the treasure since but have failed to find it.\nSnively has taken care of that. Mr. Welch claims that he once found the\nplace where it was buried, but that before he could dig for it, a flood\ncame down the river and covered the place. When the water subsided, it\nleft no trace of where the gold was buried. Snively will always have\nthe help of the elements, if necessary, to protect the gold.\n\nOn dull, rainy nights a light may be seen going across the field. It is\nnot carried by anyone, but moves of itself. People say that the light\nleads to Snively\u2019s grave and the nine jack loads of gold, but, because\nof the rain perhaps, no one has ever followed the light and it is still\na mystery.\n\nAnother story in the Thorndale neighborhood very much like this one\nasserts that some Mexicans, wishing to protect buried gold, killed a\npriest and buried him with it, and that whenever anyone starts to dig\nwhere the gold is buried, he is run away by an angry bull that has fire\ncoming out of its nostrils. [92]\n\n\n\nIII\n\nPOPE\u2019S GHOST AT THE GAP\n\nPope was a man who lived in the post oak grove near what is now\nThorndale. He lived entirely alone, and, as that part of the country\nwas then newly settled, there was not a house within miles of Pope\u2019s\nlog hut. It would, therefore, be easy to attack him some night as he\ncame along the road, kill him, and steal his hoard of gold. The murder\ncould be committed, and the murderer could escape into Mexico and live\nin luxury on the stolen money, with nothing to fear save his own\nconscience. Such must have been the idea of the villain who murdered\nPope one dark night just as Pope turned into the gap to go to his hut.\nPerhaps the gold was hidden too well for the murderer to find it. No\none knows. At any rate, after Pope\u2019s body was found and decently\nburied, his spirit was apparently not at rest; near the gap for a long\ntime thereafter a strange dog was seen. It was undoubtedly the ghost of\nPope, for no other dog would venture near it, much less fight it.\nHorses shied at it when they met it in the road. When a man hit it with\na stone, it refused to move, and a bullet had not the slightest effect\nupon it. Some tried to touch the dog, but when they were about to lay\nhand upon it, it disappeared. Whoever rode by the gap at sunset was\nalmost sure to see it; often, however, if a party of several persons\ncame by, it would be invisible to all save a particular individual. The\nghost dog continued to appear for several years, but after a time he\ndisappeared forever. [93] The gate, however, that has taken the place\nof the gap near which Pope was killed, will not stay shut. No matter\nhow you close it, it will open of itself and remain open.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WAGON-LOAD OF SILVER IN CLEAR FORK CREEK\n\nBy L. W. Payne, Jr.\n\n\nThe following legend was written up at my suggestion by Mr. Tom\nGambrell of Lockhart. He says that it is well known in the neighborhood\nof Lockhart, and that he has followed accurately the account as given\nby the two oldest inhabitants of Lockhart.\n\nThe last trouble that the early settlers in Caldwell County had with\nthe Indians was just before the great war between the states. At that\ntime about twenty of the savages suddenly swept down from the north,\nplundering and devastating where they would. They had with them a wagon\ninto which they put stolen valuables, and by the time they got to\nLockhart it was pretty well filled with silver in various forms. Here\nthey seized a white woman, and then turned to follow along the eastern\nbank of Clear Fork Creek, which runs directly south about two miles\nwest of town.\n\nThe whites hastily united to pursue the Indians and soon were close\nupon them, for the marauders could not flee very fast with their\nwagon-load of silver. As soon as they saw their peril, they unhitched\nthe horses, emptied the silver into the creek, left their wagon on the\nbank, and continued their flight with the woman still their captive.\nThe white men passed the wagon and continued the chase. Nearer and\nnearer they drew on the Indians, who had now turned southwest and were\napproaching the steep hills and treacherous valleys that surround Round\nTop Mountain, some eight miles southwest of Lockhart. Here the Indians\nused to build their fires to call together their warriors. The whites\nwere within half a mile of the redskins when the latter, beating their\nhorses furiously and riding at full speed, entered this almost\nimpenetrable region. The Indian who was carrying the woman in front of\nhim realized that his horse was overburdened and that he himself would\ncertainly be caught unless he lightened the load. Consequently he\nknocked the woman in the head with his tomahawk, threw her off, and\nentered the border of the thicket at increased speed. When the whites\nreached the woman, she was dead. They pursued the brutes a little\nfarther, but soon found out that the Indians were the better runners\namong the underbrush, and gave up the chase.\n\nOn returning, the men took up the corpse and carried it close to town,\nwhere they buried it. Many years later, the Prairie Lea-Lockhart road\nwas laid out. The grave, neatly arched with stones, lies close by the\nroadway, and can be seen by any one who will go from Lockhart about a\nmile and a half down that road.\n\nOwing to the death of the captive woman and to the near approach of\nnight, the whites did not search for the silver that evening. But next\nday they went to the creek and looked for the booty. They found none,\nbut carried away the wagon. Since then others have sought in vain for\nthe treasure. The creek has been dredged and seined, and its bottom\ngouged, but no silver has been found. Some say that the Indians\nreturned that night and recovered it. Others believe that it has sunk\ninto the boggy mire of the creek bottom.\n\nHowever this may be, the grave is still a visible evidence of the\nessential truth of the legend. A number of the pursuers of the Indians\nsaid that they saw the silver tumble into the water. And the two\nsurviving pursuers, recognized as reliable and honorable men, insist\nthat the whole story is based on fact.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMORO\u2019S GOLD\n\nBy Fannie E. Ratchford\n\n\nI heard the story of Moro\u2019s gold first, when a very small child, from\nmy mother, who herself remembered it from her tenth year, and from my\ngrandmother, who, except for its tragic outcome, would have forgotten\nthe whole incident in her busy life as mistress of a large plantation.\nI heard it when several years older from my father, who knew it merely\nas a family and neighborhood legend, and I heard it again a few years\nago from my mother\u2019s cousin, Judge W. P. McLean of Fort Worth, who as a\nyoung man was living in my grandfather\u2019s home at the time the incident\noccurred. The story as I give it here contains elements of all four\nslightly varying accounts.\n\nBefore the Civil War, my grandfather, Preston R. Rose, lived on a large\nplantation, called Buena Vista, lying along the Guadalupe River, seven\nmiles from Victoria, near the Indianola road. Late one afternoon, two\nyears before the Civil War began, he was sitting on the porch reading,\nwhen my mother, who was playing near, called his attention to the\nunusual sight of a stranger coming across the field from the direction\nof the river. The stranger was of small stature and dark complexion,\nevidently a Spaniard. When he had reached the porch, he addressed my\ngrandfather in the easy, courteous manner of a gentleman and an equal,\nand requested hospitality for the night, explaining that his pack mule\nhad gotten away from him and that he had exhausted himself in a\nfruitless search.\n\nHis request was granted without question, and Moro took up his\nresidence at Buena Vista, which on one pretext or another lasted for\nseveral months, in spite of the suspicious and disquieting\ncircumstances that soon arose. The first of these was the report\nbrought in by the negroes the next morning after Moro\u2019s arrival, that a\nmule with a pistol shot through his head had been found partially\nburied in the river bottom. Another was the fact that Moro was never\nseen without a glove on his right hand, not even at meal time. The\nnegro boy who waited on him in his room reported that he once saw him\nwithout the glove when he was washing his hand, and described a strange\ndevice on his wrist that was probably a tattooed figure. But the most\ndisturbing circumstance connected with Moro was his eagerness to get\nrid of money. He distributed gold coins (of what coinage, I never\nheard) among the household servants like copper pennies, until\nGrandfather rather sharply requested him to stop.\n\nThough there was not much to be bought in the little town of Victoria,\nMoro never came back from a trip to town without the most expensive\npresents that could be bought for all the family in spite of the fact\nthat they were invariably refused. My mother seems to have been\nparticularly impressed by a large oil painting which he once bought\nfrom a local artist at an impossible price, as a present for my\ngrandmother. When she refused to accept it, he asked permission to hang\nit in the library, and there it hung as long as the house was in\npossession of the family.\n\nFrequently Moro proposed the most extravagant things. Once he urged\nGrandfather to allow him to build a great stone house of feudal\nmagnificence to replace the colonial frame house in which he lived.\nAgain he proposed that he take the entire family to Europe at his\nexpense, leaving the girls there to receive an elaborate education in\nthe best schools to be found on the continent.\n\nOne day as Moro was walking about the plantation with Grandfather, the\nquestion of plantation debts came up, and Moro remarked in a\nsignificant tone that Grandfather was at that minute standing within\nfifty feet of enough gold to enable him to pay all the debts of the\nplantation and still be a rich man, even if he did not own an acre of\nland or a negro slave. Grandfather\u2019s anger prevented his continuing the\ndisclosure that he was evidently eager to make. The only landmark of\nany kind near was a large fig tree about fifty feet away.\n\nIn the meantime the negroes had caught the idea of buried treasures,\nand many were the tales they told of seeing Moro digging about the\nplace at night.\n\nA guest staying in the house one night reported that he had been drawn\nto the door of his room by an unusual noise, and had seen Moro\npainfully heaving a small chest up the stairway, step at a time.\n\nMy grandfather was a man in whom the spirit of adventure was strong. He\nhad left his plantation to the direction of his wife while he went\nadventuring into the California gold fields in \u201949. Consequently Moro\nwas able to catch his interest by the story of buried treasures down on\nthe Rio Grande, and Grandfather consented to go if he were allowed to\nmake up his own party. The party as finally organized consisted of\nfriends and neighbors, most of whom were well-to-do planters, but there\nwas one man included somewhat out of the social class of the others,\nthough well known and trusted throughout the neighborhood. To this man\nMoro objected strenuously, saying that he would either prevent their\nfinding the treasure, or if it were found, would murder them all to get\nthe whole for himself. Grandfather insisted, and the man went.\n\nMoro was nervous and sulky from the start, and so aroused the\nsuspicions of the party that by the time they reached the Rio Grande,\nhe was not allowed out of sight. But despite the close watch kept upon\nhim, he finally made his escape by diving from one of the boats in\nwhich the party was crossing the Rio Grande to the point where he said\nthe treasure was to be found. The man whom Moro feared would have shot\nhim as he appeared above the surface of the water if Grandfather had\nnot prevented.\n\nThere was nothing left for the party to do but return home, for Moro\nhad given them no map or directions that would enable them to make an\nindependent search. But before setting out on the return, Grandfather\nfoolishly accepted a dare to swim the river in a very wide place, and\nin doing so caught a severe cold that developed into \u201cgalloping\nconsumption,\u201d from which he died a few months later.\n\nThe rest of the story, so far as there is any, is confused and\ncontradictory. A few weeks before Grandfather\u2019s death, some of the\nnegroes on the place came to the house, begging for relief from Moro\u2019s\nghost, which was seen almost nightly digging at various spots on the\nplantation, but most often near the big fig tree in the field.\n\nGrandfather was too ill to make any investigation for himself, but he\nquestioned the negroes closely, and came to the conclusion that all the\nstories had grown out of one real incident\u2014that Moro had probably come\nback to recover money that he had buried on the place.\n\nThe man whom Moro feared went to Mexico to escape service in the\nConfederate Army, and his sudden rise to fortune, coupled with a wild\nstory he told on his return of having met with Moro in Mexico,\nconvinced my grandmother that he had in some way come into possession\nof the treasure.\n\nJudge McLean, who was a member of the original party, believed the\nstory of buried money on the Rio Grande to be nothing more than a ruse\non the part of Moro, representing a band of border outlaws, to kidnap\nGrandfather and hold him for a ransom. He was very positive that he saw\nMoro hanged as a Yankee spy during the Civil War, while he was\nstationed on the border near Rio Grande City.\n\nThe legend of buried money still lingers around the old plantation of\nBuena Vista. [94] About ten years after the Civil War, my father bought\nthe part of the plantation on which the home was situated, and during\nthe years that he lived there was much annoyed by treasure seekers who\nbegged permission to dig for \u201cMoro\u2019s gold,\u201d or who came at night and\ndug without permission. In telling me the story, as he had heard it\nfrom various members of my mother\u2019s family and from the negroes on the\nplace, he expressed his belief that Moro had at one time buried money\nthere. He told me that one day as he was showing a \u201cfree negro\u201d how to\nrun a straight furrow in the field not far from the old fig tree, the\nhorse stumbled and his right foreleg sank in the ground up to the\nshoulder. The thought of Moro\u2019s gold seems not to have entered my\nfather\u2019s mind at the time, but later he remembered it, and said that he\nwas convinced that if there had ever been any money buried on the\nplantation it was in that spot.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF THE SUPERNATURAL\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF STAMPEDE MESA\n\nBy John R. Craddock\n\n\n[Of all the legends in this volume \u201cThe Legend of Stampede Mesa\u201d shows\nmost of native originality. Like all true legends, it has had a wide\nvogue, though I have never heard it in the cattle country of the\nborder. A few years ago a young man from the Panhandle, named Roy\nAinsworth, gave me this abbreviated variant of it. Back in the days\nwhen range men paid in coin rather than in checks, a certain cattle\nbuyer on one of the big ranches of Northwest Texas is believed to have\nbeen murdered for his money and his body put away in a shack or dugout\nnear the principal round-up grounds of the ranch. After the murder,\nwhenever an outfit tried to hold a herd of cattle on these grounds at\nnight, they were sure to have a stampede. Cowboys reported many times\nhaving seen the murdered man\u2019s ghost wandering about among the cattle\nin the darkness and, of course, stampeding them. Naturally, the place\ncame to be avoided for night herding.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nAmong cattle folk no subject for anecdote and speculation is more\npopular than the subject of stampedes. There has always been a certain\nmystery surrounding the stampeding of cattle. Sometimes they stampede\nwithout any man\u2019s having heard, seen, or smelled a possible cause. The\nfollowing account of how Stampede Mesa got its name, together with the\nlegend, told in many variations, of the phantom stampede, is current\namong the people of the Panhandle and New Mexico. I was a mere child\nwhen I heard it first, and I have since heard it many times.\n\nStampede Mesa is in Crosby County, Texas, about eighteen miles from the\ncap rock of Blanco Canyon, wedged up between the forks of Catfish\n(sometimes called White or Blanco) River. The main stream skirts it on\nthe west; to the south the bluffs of the mesa drop a sheer hundred feet\ndown into McNeil Branch. The two hundred acre top of the mesa is\nunderlaid with rocks that are scarcely covered by the soil, though\ngrazing is nearly always good. Trail drivers all agree that a better\nplace to hold a herd will never be found. A herd could be watered at\nthe river late in the evening and then be driven up the gentle slope of\nthe mesa and bedded down for the night. In the morning there was water\nat hand before the drive was resumed. The steep bluffs to the south\nmade a natural barrier so that night guard could be reduced almost\nhalf. Nevertheless, few herd bosses of the West would now, if\nopportunity came, venture to hold their herds on Stampede Mesa. Yet it\nwill never succumb to the plow. Scarred and high, it will stand\nforever, a monument to the days that are gone, a wild bit of the old\nWest to keep green the legend that has given to it the name, \u201cStampede\nMesa.\u201d\n\nEarly in the fall of \u201989 an old cowman named Sawyer came through with a\ntrail herd of fifteen hundred head of steers, threes and fours. While\nhe was driving across Dockum Flats one evening, some six or seven miles\neast of the mesa, about forty-odd head of nester cows came bawling into\nthe herd. Closely flanking them, came the nester, demanding that his\ncattle be cut out of the herd. Old Sawyer, who was \u201cas hard as nails,\u201d\nwas driving short handed; he had come far; his steers were thin and he\ndid not want them \u201cginned\u201d about any more. Accordingly, he bluntly told\nthe nester to go to hell.\n\nThe nester was pretty nervy, and seeing that his little stock of cattle\nwas being driven off, he flared up and told Sawyer that if he did not\ndrop his cows out of the herd before dark he would stampede the whole\nbunch.\n\nAt this Sawyer gave a kind of dry laugh, drew out his six shooter, and\nsquinting down it at the nester, told him to \u201cvamoose.\u201d\n\nNightfall found the herd straggling up the east slope of what on the\nmorrow would be christened by some cowboy Stampede Mesa. Midnight came,\nand with scarcely half the usual night guard on duty, the herd settled\ndown in peace.\n\nBut the peace was not to last. True to his threat, the nester,\napproaching from the north side, slipped through the watch, waved a\nblanket a few times, and shot his gun. He did his work well. All of the\nherd except about three hundred head stampeded over the bluff on the\nsouth side of the mesa, and two of the night herders, caught in front\nof the frantic cattle that they were trying to circle, went over with\nthem.\n\nSawyer said little, but at sunup he gave orders to bring in the nester\nalive, horse and all. The orders were carried out, and when the men\nrode up on the mesa with their prisoner, Sawyer was waiting. He tied\nthe nester on his horse with a rawhide lariat, blindfolded the horse,\nand then, seizing him by the bits, backed him off the cliff. There were\nplenty of hands to drive Sawyer\u2019s remnant now. Somewhere on the\nhillside they buried, in their simple way, the remains of their two\ncomrades, but they left the nester to rot with the piles of dead steers\nin the canyon.\n\nAnd now old cowpunchers will tell you that if you chance to be about\nStampede Mesa at night, you can hear the nester calling his cattle, and\nmany assert that they have seen his murdered ghost, astride a\nblindfolded horse, sweeping over the headland, behind a stampeding herd\nof phantom steers. Herd bosses are afraid of those phantom steers, and\nit is said that every herd that has been held on the mesa since that\nnight has stampeded, always from some unaccountable cause.\n\n\n\nI have a tale connected with two of these noted stampedes that I will\nrelate here in the words of Poncho Burall, who told it to me.\n\n\u201cIt was in the fall of 1900. This country was just beginning to settle.\nI was working for old man Jeff Keister\u2019s outfit then, taking a herd\nthrough to New Mexico. We\u2019d been on the trail some ten days, I guess,\nwhen we came to a ranch in a valley down on the Salt Fork. Keister says\na friend of his lives there, and he rides off. After a while two boys\nride up and tell us that they will herd the cattle while the outfit\ngoes down to the ranch to dinner.\n\n\u201cWhen we rode down to the house, Keister and an old man were sitting\nunder a brush arbor that represented the front porch. First thing I\nnoticed about the old man was that one of his arms is only about\ntwo-thirds as long as the other, and that he has to put it where he\nwants it with his other hand. We meets him and sets down to wait for\ndinner, not saying much but listening some.\n\n\u201c\u2018You\u2019ll find a-plenty good places to hold \u2018em nights, Jeff, but about\nthe third night out you will be some\u2019ers near Stampede Mesa. Don\u2019t you\ntry to hold them thar.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019m aimin\u2019 to hold them right there, Bill,\u2019 Keister says.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, Jeff, you ain\u2019t forgot that stampede in \u201991, have you? Well,\nmaybe you have, but I hain\u2019t. I carry a little souvaneer that won\u2019t let\nme forget. There was phantom steers in that herd that night. You\nrecollect as how them steers went over the steep side of the mesa,\nJeff? I must a been a sight when you found me. It\u2019s right nigh onto\ntwenty year now, and I ain\u2019t moved this old arm since.\u2019\n\n\u201cWell, the wife called dinner just then, and the old man got strung out\non something else, but that stampede business jest stuck to my mind.\n\n\u201cAlong late one evenin\u2019 old Keister and I were riding the drag, when he\nputs the dogie he\u2019s been a-carryin\u2019 on his saddle down on the ground,\nand says, \u2018Taint fer now, yuh kin walk. We are campin\u2019 on Stampede\nMesa, as they call it.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I guess yuh noticed that feller\u2019s arm, back there in the valley,\u2019\nsays Keister, jerking his hand back toward the way we come.\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes,\u2019 I said, waiting for him to go on.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, he got it up there on the south side of that mesa. Hoss went\nplumb crazy. Bill\u2019s allys said they wuz ghost steers in that herd that\nnight. I think I seen \u2018em too. They jest came a-sailin\u2019 through the\nherd and right past your horse. I don\u2019t believe in hants, but it wuz\nscary.\u2019\n\n\u201cWell, we drove \u2019em up on the mesa and let \u2019em graze. A feller and me\ntook first guard that night. The herd settled down pretty soon, but I\ncouldn\u2019t get that stampede tale out of my mind; every time a cow moved\nI thought something was going to happen. It was a mixed herd, and they\nlay as quiet as a bunch of dead sheep. It got so quiet that I could\nhear my pardner\u2019s saddle creak, away off to one side. The moon set, and\nit got darker. Just about then something passed me. It looked like a\nman on a horse, but it just seemed to float along. Then there was a\nroar, and the whole bunch stampeded straight for the bluffs. I rode in\nfront of one critter like, and he jest passed right on, jest kinder\nfloatin\u2019 past me. Then some old cow bellered and we milled \u2019em easy\u2014but\nthey wouldn\u2019t bed down again that night and it took every derned one of\nus to hold \u2019em.\u201d\n\n\n\nThere are some who say that the phantoms of this legend are tumble\nweeds, blown by the wind. But there are many honest men who will tell\nyou of the weird calls of the phantom nester and of the galloping\nphantom steers. Knowing the story, you cannot look at the mesa, branded\nby the white scar of the old trail, without a strange emotion.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOMAN OF THE WESTERN STAR: A LEGEND OF THE RANGERS\n\nBy Adele B. Looscan\n\n(With apologies to the memory of Judge Hugh Duffy.)\n\n\nJudge Hugh C. Duffy, to whom I am indebted for this legend, was\nidentified with the interests of Bandera County for fifty-four years.\nAs host of the Duffy Hotel, his genial gifts made friends of all who\nshared his hospitality. His acquaintance with the rangers enabled him\nto gather from them and others a rare collection of tales, which he\nrelated with convincing accuracy of detail. The Pioneer History of\nBandera County, by J. Marvin Hunter, contains an appreciative sketch of\nhis life and a tribute to his many fine qualities.\n\nI tell the tale now as it was told to me, when the moon was full and\nshone on a merry group of friends seated on the ground, in the\nneighborhood of Polly\u2019s Peak. The narrator began with these words: \u201cIt\nwas on just such a night as this.\u201d Then followed the legend in the\ntime-honored style sacred to legendary lore, impossible for me to\nimitate.\n\nA more charming landscape cannot be found than the hills and dales of\nBandera County. The Indians loved this country, and every year resorted\nthither, to fish in the waters of the Medina and to hunt deer and\nturkeys on the mountains. But their intentions were not always so\npeaceful, and Texas Rangers were not infrequently called upon to\nprotect the few white settlers who were bold enough to call this region\nhome.\n\nIn the summer of 1844, there had been some fierce conflicts between the\nwhite and the red men; the latter had fled precipitately, showering\ntheir arrows behind them upon the rocky ground. The battle having ended\nwith slight loss to the victorious rangers, they were taking their rest\nnear the base of a conical eminence, afterwards known as Polly\u2019s Peak.\n\nThe moon was at its full. The rangers lay at ease near their camp fire,\nwhose glowing coals of red and yellow seemed to vie with the moon\u2019s\nglorious golden hue. The story-hour had come, and each in his turn told\nof his own or another\u2019s thrilling experience or hairbreadth escape. A\nmocking bird, perched on the topmost bough of a gnarled oak, poured out\nthe melodious measures of comedy and tragedy that make up his wonderful\nrepertoire. The story tellers were forced to listen to him and\ninterpret, as best they might, the infinitely varied notes of his song.\n\nNow it seemed a human voice, calling, \u201cCome here! Come here! Come\nhere!\u201d Now, a cry of distress, as of a captive frog in the toils of a\nsnake; again, household words pealed forth: \u201cTut! Tut! Tut! Chick!\nChick! Chick! Mew! Mew! Mew!\u201d; then came high pitched trills of\nbewildering sweetness, rivaling those of the most gifted prima donna,\nfollowed by a low, soothing, caressing lullaby. The song ceased\nsuddenly and left as its echo an uncanny stillness. The breeze had\nentirely died away; the leaves on the near-by trees seemed to stand at\nattention, as if awaiting orders. From whom? A voiceless presence\ncommanded an attitude of motionless silence.\n\nThe rangers felt its strange influence and looked inquiringly at each\nother; meanwhile not a word was uttered. The tense silence became\npainful. A cloud, veiling the face of the moon and dimming its light\nfor a few moments, invited them to watch its passing, and, as they\ngazed upon its flitting shadows, there suddenly stood in their midst a\ntall, beautiful Indian woman.\n\nHer hair hung in long braids over her shoulders; her brow was crowned\nby a circlet of sparkling crystal beads; countless strings of colored\nbeads and shells adorned her body; a skirt of a filmy blue fabric\nreached nearly to her ankles. She carried a bead-embroidered quiver at\nher side, and swung across her back was a bow of bois d\u2019arc. The\nrangers arose and gazed in amazement at her majestic attitude, and\nseveral minutes elapsed before their captain controlled his voice to\nask: \u201cWhere do you come from, and why are you here alone?\u201d\n\nQuietly folding her arms, she replied: \u201cMy people are tired of\nfighting. So many of our braves have fallen, victims of your\ndeath-dealing weapons, that we are helpless. I come to ask that the\npath between my people and yours be again made white! I come alone,\nbecause I know not fear. The Great Spirit is my father!\u201d\n\nShe laid three polished arrows at her feet and stood for a moment\nlooking up into the sky, while the moonlight glittered on her shining\nornaments, and the blooming white yucca that surrounded her gleamed\nlike silver. She turned toward the west and, pointing to a star,\nwonderfully brilliant in spite of the moonlight, exclaimed, \u201cThat star\nis my home! I go there!\u201d\n\nHer listeners, almost breathless from amazement, were men accustomed to\ndanger; it was their daily duty to meet it. They now saw no threatening\ndanger, no indication of a cowardly ambush; but the silence, like that\nof the desert, created a feeling akin to awe, and acted like an\nadmonition. But for a hasty sign of the cross, a slight movement of the\nlips on the part of a few, they stood as lifeless as a group of\nstatuary.\n\nA dark cloud had been rapidly gathering about the summit of Polly\u2019s\nPeak, but the rangers, bewildered by the strangeness of the situation,\nseemed transfixed as by some magic spell, and saw naught but the\ngraceful figure and pointing finger of the woman. Their senses were\ndulled as in the mazes of a dream. The plaintive note of a whippoorwill\nbegan to tell his mournful tale, the piercing shriek of an owl startled\nthe little company, and a blinding flash of lightning and crash of\nthunder broke the spell of their enchantment.\n\nThey sprang to their stack of arms, seized their guns, and made ready\nto face an enemy. Some cursed, with wild unreason. Others cried: \u201cWhere\nis the woman, damned siren that she is, who made it her business to\nbewitch us men, while the red devils of her tribe prepare to attack and\nkill us! Let\u2019s find and follow her! Look for the arrows she laid at her\nfeet!\u201d\n\nOne swore he had seen her caught up into the black cloud as it opened\nto emit the thundering electric bolt\u2014plain proof that she was an\nemissary of the devil.\n\nWhile confusion thus reigned, some tried in vain to find the arrows,\nwhich might give a clue. With the earliest dawn, a careful and\npersistent search failed to discover the arrows, or the presence of a\nsingle Indian within the radius of a hundred miles.\n\nThe presence and disappearance of the \u201cWoman of the Western Star\u201d must\nbe classed as a mystery, and, like many another mystery, its influence\nwas not only felt at the time, but had lasting beneficial effect.\nHenceforth the Indians came and went peacefully, committing no\ndepredations, and unmolested by the white men. At a certain season of\neach year, they placed flint arrowheads and beads of many colors in the\ngrave of their most noted chief and planted a peace feather at its\nhead. In the long ago, he and his tribe had resisted the Spanish\ninvasion and he had fallen, mortally wounded, in battle against them.\nOn a high cliff overlooking Bandera Pass, his grave could still be seen\nthirty years ago.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEVIL AND STRAP BUCKNER [95]\n\nBy N. A. Taylor\n\n\n[The legend of \u201cThe Devil and Strap Buckner\u201d reprinted here in a much\nabridged form, through the courtesy of Mrs. Natalie Taylor Carlisle and\nMiss Grace B. Taylor, of Houston, daughters of the deceased author,\naffords sufficient perplexity to the folk-lorist. There is no doubt\nthat the legend as told is based on a pure folk tale; there is no doubt\nthat the author in telling it took many liberties with it, much as\nWashington Irving took liberties with the legends of the Hudson; and\nthere seems little doubt that the legend has perished from the folk\namong whom it once existed. The book in which it is preserved is very\nscarce, hardly procurable at any price.\n\nColonel Nathaniel Alston Taylor came to Texas shortly before the Civil\nWar and began his travels of \u201c2000 miles on horseback,\u201d concluding them\nafter the war was over. I should say that in addition to being the most\ndelightful of all Texas books of travel, his book contains the most\nincisive information on the social conditions of pioneer Texans.\nAccording to Mrs. Carlisle, though the name of H. F. McDanield is\nprinted as an associate author, he had absolutely nothing to do with\nthe authorship. Mr. Taylor needed financial help to publish the book\nand McDanield gave it on the condition that his name should be used as\njoint author. Mr. Taylor left manuscript journals containing notes on\nhis travels in which the legend is mentioned; and Mrs. Carlisle writes:\n\n\u201cAs told me by my father, the legend of Strap Buckner is really\nfolk-lore. It was told to him in very simple form by a \u2018dapper young\nman\u2019 explaining why the creek was named Buckner\u2019s Creek. The young man\nsaid that Strap Buckner came to Texas with Austin\u2019s colony and gained\nhis queer reputation for good naturedly knocking men down, and that he\nhad several times knocked down the great Austin himself; he would not\nhesitate to knock down anything. My father remarked, \u2018He\u2019d try to knock\ndown a bull, wouldn\u2019t he?\u2019 Thereupon the young man said that it was\nrelated that Strap Buckner had tackled and put to flight, with his bare\nfists, a great black bull that occasionally made himself obnoxious in\nAustin\u2019s colony. But Strap became unpopular and betook himself to the\nLa Grange vicinity, where he settled in a log cabin of his own\nconstruction near the creek. Here he \u2018tried to be good,\u2019 but finally\nagain began knocking men down, and knocked down the Indians and even\nthe chief and his \u2018queen\u2019 and the chief\u2019s daughter. The Indian chief\nadmired him so much that he presented him with the swiftest horse he\nhad, a gray nag. This recognition of \u2018his genius\u2019 so aroused the\nspirits of Strap that he became gloriously drunk and declared himself\n\u2018the Champion of the World\u2019 and challenged any and everybody to\nfight\u2014the whole Indian tribe, the Devil himself. At this point, a\nterrible tempest arose, during which the air was charged with\nbrimstone, and the Devil appeared, and a dreadful fight took place,\nlasting all the day and night. The Devil conquered, and carried Strap\nand his gray nag away on a cloud of pale blue smoke that arose from the\n\u2018battle ground.\u2019 My father was so impressed by the tale that he added\nto it with the result to be read in his book.\u201d\n\nIn hope of finding some survival of the legend in the La Grange\nneighborhood, I sent a copy of it to Mrs. W. H. Thomas, a member of the\nTexas Folk-Lore Society, who has long lived at La Grange. She and her\nson, Mr. Wright Thomas, circulated the legend widely without being able\nto get a surviving trace of it. Nevertheless, there is a large creek\nthat empties into the Colorado River near La Grange called \u201cBuckner\u2019s\nCreek.\u201d The country up it \u201cused to be considered wild and rough,\u201d says\nMrs. Thomas, \u201cand when I was a child and we wanted to describe anyone\nas rough, rude, or illiterate, we would say that he must have come\n\u2018from high Buckner.\u2019\u201d\n\nMr. Wright Thomas interviewed an old German woman known as \u201cAunt Vogt\u201d\nwho came to the settlement in 1840. She says that a carpenter named\nBuckner lived in the country before she came but that she never heard\nany legend connected with the name.\n\nThe legend of a hero of superhuman strength is as old as the\nimagination of man. In America it has thrived, particularly among the\nlumber camps of Maine and of the Northwest, in the myth of Paul Bunyan\nand his wonderful Blue Ox, \u201cBabe,\u201d \u201cseven ax-handles wide between the\neyes\u201d\u2014some say, \u201cforty-two ax-handles and a plug of chewing tobacco.\u201d\nIn the Century Magazine for May, 1923, pages 23\u201333, Hubert Langerock\nhas reported in detail, as from original folk sources, concerning \u201cThe\nWonderful Life and Deeds of Paul Bunyan.\u201d In West Virginia, according\nto Margaret Prescott Montague, the performer of deeds of superhuman\nstrength is known as Tony Beaver. See her article called \u201cUp Eel\nRiver,\u201d in the Atlantic Monthly for May, 1923. The superhuman hero in\nthe Southwest has thrived in the person of Pecos Bill, who really\nbelongs in a large part to Texas. Those who would know of him are\nreferred to \u201cThe Saga of Pecos Bill,\u201d by Edward O\u2019Reilly in the Century\nMagazine for October, 1923, pages 827\u2013833. Thus we see that Strap\nBuckner, no matter what his derivation or what his lamentable death, is\nno alien to our soil. It is a pity, though, that he is not thriving\nlike his brothers Paul Bunyan, Tony Beaver, and Pecos Bill.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nA mile above the ferry, I entered a charming valley leading from the\nwest. It was a succession of farm after farm. The song of the plowman\nwas merry in the air, and there was an odor of the newly-turned soil,\nwhich showed just a tint of the coloring matter of the Colorado,\nproving that the mighty river had invaded the valley with its\nback-water. Gentle slopes and eminences and detached groves of oak\nlooked upon this pleasant valley from either side. Through the middle\nof it flowed a small stream known as Buckner\u2019s Creek. I had ridden a\nfew miles up this attractive valley when a young horseman cantered up\nby my side, traveling the same direction with myself. I said\ninvoluntarily as he checked his prancing steed beside me and bowed\npolitely: \u201cA young gentleman and a scholar!\u201d\n\nAfter an interchange of courtesies and some pleasant conversation, I\nasked why the sparkling brook was called Buckner\u2019s Creek, and why it\nhad not been named for some water nymph, who, in the mythological days,\nmust have chosen it for her haunt; or for some Indian princess with a\nmusical name who had lived and loved on its banks?\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said he, turning upon me with his beaming eyes, which grew larger\nand brighter, \u201cand thereby hangs a tale\u2014a tale of the olden time. And\nas I perceive that you are one who loves knowledge, I will tell it to\nyou if you will have the patience to hear me.\u201d\n\nI thanked him and begged him to proceed.\n\n\u201cYou must know then,\u201d continued he, \u201cthat this vale in which you are\nriding is one that has witnessed strange company and remarkable events.\nIn the olden time there came to Texas with Austin, who, you are aware,\nbrought \u2018the first three hundred\u2019 Americans who founded this great\ncommonwealth, a youth whose name was Strap Buckner. Where he was born,\nwhence his lineage, or why he bore the name of Strap the records do not\ntell. Certain it is, he was of giant stature, and of the strength of\nten lions, and he used it as ten lions. His hair was of the redness of\nflame, as robust as the mane of a charger, and his face\u2014it was\nfreckled. He was of a kindly nature, as most men of giant strength are,\nbut he had a pride in his strength which grew ungovernable. With no\nprovocation whatever, he knocked men down with the kindest intentions\nand no purpose to harm them. He would enter a circle of gentlemen with\na smiling visage, and knock them all down; and when any received\nbruised or broken limbs, he nursed them with more than the tenderness\nof a mother, and with a degree of enthusiasm, as if his whole heart was\nbent on restoring them to health as soon as practicable, in order that\nhe might enjoy the pleasure of knocking them down again. His genius was\nto knock men down. He knocked down Austin\u2019s whole colony at least three\ntimes over, including the great and good Austin himself.\n\n\u201cHe could plant a blow with his fist so strongly that it was merry\npastime with him to knock a yearling bull stark dead; and even the\nfrontlet of a full grown animal could not withstand him. In those days\na huge black bull appeared mysteriously in Austin\u2019s colony, who by his\nferocity became a terror to the settlement, and was known by the dread\nname of Noche. Strap challenged this bull to single combat, and invited\nthe colony to witness the encounter. When the day came, the entire\ncolony looked from their doors and windows, being afraid to go out,\nevery one, probably, praying that both Strap and the bull would be\nslain. He threw a red blanket over his shoulder, and walked on the\nprairie with the air of a hero who goes forth to meet a mighty foeman.\nHe bore no weapon whatever. When the bull perceived him, he tossed his\ntail, pawed the earth, and emitted a roar of thunder. Strap imitated\nhim, and pawed and roared also; which perceiving, the bull came toward\nhim like a thunder-bolt clothed in tempest and terror. Strap received\nhim with a blow on his frontlet from his bare fist, which sent him\nstaggering back upon his haunches, and the blood flowed from his\nsmoking nostrils. Recovering from his surprise, Noche, to the\nastonishment of all, turned his tail and fled away, bellowing. He was\nnever more seen in those parts.\n\n\u201cStrap\u2019s fame greatly arose, insomuch that men looked upon him in awe,\nand maidens and strong women pined in secret admiration. He became a\ngreat hunter, using no other weapon but his fist and an iron pestle, or\nmace. About this time also Strap became addicted to strong drink and\ngrew boisterous, to such a degree that people shunned him in spite of\nhis kindly nature. No man would meet him alone; but when he was seen\napproaching, men would shut themselves up in their houses, or collect\nin knots, all with guns and pistols cocked. Strap now determined that\nhe would seek other fields of glory. So, early on a bright spring\nmorning he arose, and throwing his bundle of raiment over his left\nshoulder, and bearing his iron pestle in his right hand, he turned his\nback upon the unappreciative community.\n\n\u201cHe traveled west over the great plains. After days of wonders Strap\nreached the site where La Grange now is, and to his surprise found a\nsolitary trading house, where Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall exchanged\nbeads and liquor with Indians for furs and skins, and for horses they\nmight steal. He liked the country greatly, and whiskey being\naccessible, he determined to abide in these quarters. On the first day\nof his arrival, he knocked down both Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall,\nbut so handsomely and with such an air of unspeakable kindness that\nthey could conceive no offense. Before a week had elapsed he had\nknocked down every Indian brave who dwelt within ten miles round; and\nfinally he knocked down the great king himself, Tuleahcahoma. The\nIndians called him the Red Son of Blue Thunder. The great king held him\nin such reverence that he presented him with a gray horse with a\nbob-tail, which, though ugly and lank to look at, was famed as the\nswiftest horse known to all the Indians.\n\n\u201cNow this great king and his powerful tribe dwelt in this fair valley\nin which you ride. Strap saw it, and he loved the beautiful land. He\nresolved to settle within it, and chose yon lovely site, and there\nbuilt his residence of cedar posts. He procured a jug of whiskey and\nset up housekeeping, an object of great reverence to his neighbors.\nDaily he went forth and knocked down many Indians with great grace. At\nlast they conceived that they did not like this, and they determined to\nabandon the vale. On a dark night they silently stole away, and next\nmorning Strap found himself alone. When he beheld the deserted valley,\nbut yesterday teeming with braves and fair maidens, he wept in the\nkindness of his heart. \u2018Other friends,\u2019 said he, \u2018have left me before.\nSuch is the common penalty of greatness.\u2019\n\n\u201cTwo days he pondered on his greatness and his misery, and the struggle\nbetween his genius and his better spirit was terrible. He who hath\ngenius hath a heaving ocean or a volcano in his breast. At length, a\ndark light gleamed in Strap\u2019s impatient eyes; it was his genius\nstartled and indignant. He arose with a proud air, admiringly gazed\nupon his enormous fists, and groaned deeply for the presence of some\none whom he might knock down. His bosom heaved and swelled. And then a\nsweet gentleness stole into his eyes, as his better spirit spoke to him\nin a soft voice: \u2018Ah, Strap, hast thou not glory enough? Hast thou not\nknocked down many times nearly every man in Texas ... even the great\nAustin and the mighty king Tuleahcahoma? Come, gentle Peace; encircle\nthy pleasant arms about me and bathe my brow with kisses. My laurels\nare sufficient, and the great man shall have repose.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe felt a thirst, and he reached forth his hand for his jug, but found\nit empty. \u2018Ah!\u2019 said he, \u2018this will not do.\u2019 He called his swift gray\nnag, and holding his jug in one hand and the rein in the other, hied\naway, his long red hair streaming like a meteor behind him. When he\nrose on the east bank of the Colorado, as fate would have it, he saw\ntwenty-two Indian braves, who, having exchanged their skins for whiskey\nand trinkets, were having a gay dance under the boughs of an oak. Strap\ndismounted, and stepping lightly into the circle of braves, knocked\nthem all down. He then turned to each one and bowed with exquisite\ngrace, and the gentleness on his countenance was sweet. You see how\ntreacherous genius is, and how feeble are the best efforts to withstand\nit. He that hath a genius must needs let it work. Lightly he stepped\ninto the trading house, smiling as the dawn, carrying his clenched\nfists before him. He met Bob Turket at the door, and instantly knocked\nhim down. His eyes sparkled, his genius was aglow. Bill Smotherall,\nbeholding the light of his countenance, essayed to escape, but a\npowerful blow overtook him between the shoulders and felled him face\ndownward to the floor. Strap jumped upon the counter and flapped his\nelbows against his flanks, and crowed a crow which rang among the hills\nand forests of the Colorado. His genius for the first time had overcome\nhis kindness of heart; for never before, in all his achievements, had\nhe uttered a note of triumph. I fear me it was a mark of the decadence\nof his noble spirit.\n\n\n\nHE COMETH!\n\n\u201cBut all of this perhaps had not been so bad had he not now resorted to\nwhiskey. Calling for his jug, he ordered it filled, and seizing a quart\nmeasure, he drank at one draught all it would hold. Instantly, as might\nbe supposed, his genius broke all bounds; it raged. Filling the quart\nmeasure with water, he made with its contents a wet ring on the floor,\nin the center of which he leaped like a savage beast. He smote the air\nwith his fists and exclaimed in a loud voice: \u2018Behold in me, Bob\nTurket, Bill Smotherall, and ye red men of the forest and\nprairie\u2014behold in me the champion of the world! I defy all that live. I\nwager my swift gray nag. I defy the veritable old Devil himself\u2014him of\nthe cloven hoof and tawny hide. Black imp of hell, thou Satanas, I defy\nthee!\u2019\n\n\u201cScarcely had he uttered these words when a singular murmuring sound\nissued from the forests of the Colorado, which, growing louder and\nlouder, at last seemed to quiver under the whole heavens. Bob Turket\nand Bill Smotherall looked at one another, speechless and pale. The\nbraves gathered about the door stricken with terror. Said the great\nMedicine Man, sounding his big bongbooree: \u2018It is\u2014it is\u2014it is he! The\nGreat Father of the Red Son of Blue Thunder has descended from the\nclouds. He cometh to aid his great son.\u2019\n\n\u201cOutspake Bob Turket: \u2018Mighty champion of the world, norate to us what\nis that!\u2019\n\n\u201cThe champion of the world, still occupying the center of the ring,\nresponded: \u2018It is not the Great Father of the Red Son of Blue Thunder.\nI know that familiar voice: it is Noche\u2014it is dread Noche! I conquered\nhim once before, and I will conquer him again. Black, dread Noche, I\ndefy thee!\u2019\n\n\u201cThe singular murmuring sound again issued from the deep forests of the\nColorado, growing louder and louder, till the everlasting hills\ntrembled with the reverberation, and the great oaks bowed their heads.\nIt articulated distinctly, according to the true report of Bob Turket:\n\u2018Ah, Strap\u2014ah, Strap! Remember, Strap, remember!\u2019\n\n\u201cThe champion seized his jug by the handle, and pouring out a quart\nmeasure of the treacherous liquid, imbibed it at a single draught. He\nthen mounted his swift gray nag and sped away with the fury of a\nwhirlwind. Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall watched him as he passed out\nof view, and then listened to the rapid clatter of hoofs till they died\naway in the distance, but durst not venture out of their doors....\nStrap entered his cabin.\n\n\n\nLA NOCHE TRISTE\n\n\u201cNight was rapidly falling, and rolling clouds involved the heavens in\npitchy blackness. Fearful thunder resounded through the deserted vale.\nA storm of wind and rain burst upon the cabin with terrible fury. In\nthe midst of it Strap proceeded to cook his supper of hoe-cake and\nfried bacon. The bacon sizzled deliciously, and the hoe-cake grew to a\nrich brown. When all was ready, he spread his table, and was invoking\nan earnest blessing on him who invented fried bacon and hoe-cake, when\nsuddenly an impetuous blast of the tempest blew open one of his\nwindows. Strap raised his eyes and saw two fiery balls, about four\ninches apart, staring at him through the open window. \u2018Ah,\u2019 said Strap,\n\u2018Ocelot\u2014wildcat\u2014hast thou come to interview me?\u2014or wouldst thou forget\nthy sorrows in a sip from my jolly jug?\u2014or wouldst thou take a little\nfried bacon and hoe-cake?\u2014or is the tempest too much for thy glossy\nskin that thou comest to implore refuge with me under my roof? Truly, I\nmight accord thee of all these and feel myself blessed to do it, but\nthy glaring, infernal eyes betray thee, and say that thou wouldst\nreturn villainy for these mercies. Speed thee away! What! Starest\nstill? Wouldst fight? Then take this!\u2019\n\n\u201cHe plucked a stone from his hearth and threw it with all his might at\nthe glaring balls, but it missed its mark and they did not move.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ah, thou art brave,\u2019 said he, \u2018and my hand is unsteady. Wouldst beard\nme in my den? Then let me try thee with my pestle!\u2019 With that he seized\nhis iron mace and strode with it uplifted to the window. He drew back\nto plant the blow of a giant between the glaring balls. The blow fell,\nbut it struck only against the window-sill, with such force that it\nsank half through the heart of oak. The balls disappeared in the outer\ndarkness. Strap then barred the window more firmly than before, and sat\ndown to sup.\n\n\u201cHe was chewing a lengthy piece of bacon, whose ends protruded from\neach corner of his mouth, when a blinding flash of lightning fell,\naccompanied with a burst of thunder. For a moment Strap felt himself\nstunned with the flame and concussion. \u2018Bless me,\u2019 said he, \u2018now has\nthe Father given us enough of lightning and dire thunder! But what, ye\ngods, is this?\u2019\n\n\u201cHe beheld, dancing on the floor before him, a remarkable black figure,\nwith insolent eyes of fiery redness. It was in the shape of a man, but\nwas not three feet high, it had two red horns on its head, and its\nfeet, which were large, were cloven like the hoofs of a bull. Its nose\nwas prominent and hooked like the beak of an eagle, and its face was\ngaunt and thin. Though so small of stature, its visage was hard and\nwrinkled, and showed age and infinite villainy. As it danced before\nhim, it placed the thumb of the right hand against its nose and made at\nStrap the insulting sign of derision; but it spake not.\n\n\u201cStrap was amazed, but he was not overcome. He let the long piece of\nbacon drop from his mouth. The singular object ceased to dance, and\nstepping by Strap\u2019s side, took a seat unbid in a chair upon the hearth.\nAs it did so, it commenced growing, and did not stop until it had grown\nto twice its original proportions. It drew from between its legs a long\ntail, with a hard pronged point, which Strap had not observed before,\nand twirled it over so that the point fell on Strap\u2019s knee. This\ndisgusted Strap. He hastily pushed his chair away to the opposite\ncorner of the hearth, and observed: \u2018Keep thy prolongation to thyself,\nstrange visitor!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Skin for skin,\u2019 said the figure. At the same time he twirled his tail\nover again with such force and accurate aim that the sharp point of it\nstuck deeply into the mantel-piece, and there it hung fixed.\n\n\u201c\u2018What might thy name be,\u2019 said Strap, \u2018who visitest me at this\nunseemly hour? Speak! thy name and thy business!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Sir,\u2019 said the object, rising from the chair, extracting its tail\nfrom the mantel-piece, and advancing a step toward Strap, \u2018men call me\nby many names. Thou hast called me \u201cblack imp of hell, thou Satanas!\u201d\nSo be it. Skin for skin! Thou hast thrice challenged me to duel, and\nthrice have I accepted. I have come to meet thee now, or to fling thy\nchallenge into thy teeth.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe seized his tail in his right hand, and held it like a javelin about\nto be thrust. Strap gazed upon this singular instrument, and\nmeditatively spake: \u2018Good Sir Devil, take a seat. Wouldst thou attack a\ngentleman in his cups? None but a thief and coward would do that. Put\nthy prolongation away, I prithee. Leave me to my sleep and restoration,\nand I will meet thee man to man. Tomorrow morning at nine o\u2019clock will\nI meet thee.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Devil advanced again, saying: \u2018Give us thy hand, Strap Buckner;\nskin for skin: tomorrow morn at nine o\u2019clock, under yon oaks that\noverlook thy dwelling from the south.\u2019 They shook hands heartily.\n\u2018Now,\u2019 said he, \u2018will I leave thee to sleep and restoration. Truly, he\nhath neither courage nor honor who would attack a gentleman in his\ncups.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Devil then stepped toward the door. Strap moved forward to unbar\nit and let him out, but the Devil made a bound for the key-hole, and\npassed through, tail and all, in the twinkling of an eye. As he did so\nhe filled the room with a strong odor of brimstone. The champion burned\na few cotton rags to deodorize the room, and then sat quietly by his\ntable and ate a hearty repast of hoe-cake and bacon. Afterward he\nwalked his cabin an hour to promote digestion.\n\n\n\nTHE DAY OF EVENTS\n\n\u201cDay had dawned, but its light struggled almost in vain with the storm\nwhich held carnival in the valley. Strap arose refreshed and vigorous.\nHe breakfasted on the remnants of the hoe-cake and bacon of the night\u2019s\nrepast. The merry jug stood near, but he turned away from it with a\nlook of reproach. Donning his garment of buckskin, he said: \u2018The hour\narrives!\u2019 Then taking his iron limb in his right hand, the only aid he\nasked from art, this matchless hero stepped out into the storm, called\nhis swift nag, and rode away to war.\n\n\u201cHe had advanced but a few paces when the Infernal Fiend, in the form\nof a skinny, ugly dwarf, appeared before him, dancing a jig, but he did\nnot make the insulting sign of derision. He bowed politely and said:\n\u2018Hail to thee, Strap Buckner! I see that thou art a man of honor.\nReceive my obeisance to a man of courage! I will lead and thou wilt\nfollow.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I dare follow where the Foul Fiend leadeth,\u2019 said Strap. And both\nmoved onward through the storm, the Fiend in advance. A white flame of\nlightning illuminated the valley, and when Strap looked again the Fiend\nhad disappeared, but an enormous bull, black as night, strode before\nhim. \u2018Ah,\u2019 said Strap, \u2018this is my old friend Noche, I perceive. How is\nthy frontlet, Noche? Hast thou had the screw worms picked out of thy\nwounds? Better betake thee to a pretty, protected nook, and eat\ncowslips and make calves for an honest milk-maid.\u2019 Again the blinding\nlightning came, and when Strap recovered his sight, Noche had departed;\nin his stead the Fiend in stately form marched before him.\n\n\u201cThey had now reached the foot of the upland that looks into the vale.\nSilently they ascended to a cluster of noble oaks. The green sward was\nrich and level around them. Rather seemed it a place for fairies to\ndance under the moonlight than for Fiend and hero to meet in the\nstruggle of death. Strap dismounted and, turning his gray nag loose,\nsaid to him: \u2018Charge thyself with grass, whilst I charge myself with\nthe Devil. Prosper my work like thine!\u2019 The gray nag wagged his\nbobtail, and said, \u2018I charge.\u2019 Without the tremor of a nerve, without\nair of fear or air of boast, this matchless hero confronted the Fiend.\nAs he did so, the latter meanly commenced to grow, and ceased not to\ngrow till he had achieved such stature that his head was a hundred and\nninety feet in the air, and he was eighty feet in girth. His tail grew\nin correspondence, till, seizing it, he gave it a twirl, and the point\nstruck in the bosom of a black cloud. As he had a right to do, Strap\ncomplained of this injustice. Said he: \u2018Foul Fiend, thou art no fair\nman to ask me to fight with thee on unequal terms. If thou choosest\nsuch terms, I brand thee villainous coward.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Fiend looked down from his lofty stature, and with a voice that\nconfused all living things within a vast circumference, said: \u2018Put\naside thy iron limb, thy mace, thy pestle, and I will accommodate me to\nthy size. Skin for skin!\u2019 Strap tossed his pestle aside, whereat the\nFiend commenced shrinking, and ceased not to shrink till he had\nshrunken to Strap\u2019s size\u2014all save his tail, which still remained\nhitched in the bosom of the cloud. He now took position before Strap in\nthe attitude of a boxer, and Strap took position before him in the same\nattitude. He kept his eye on Strap, and Strap kept his eye on him,\neither guarding against any advantage or cheat by the other. The Fiend\nnow drew back for a pass at Strap, but just at that moment the black\ncloud in which his tail was hitched was rapidly passing beyond its\nlength, and it drew the Devil backwards and upwards with great force,\ncausing him exceeding great pain at the point of its juncture with the\nbody. Now had Strap but used the advantage which offered itself to him,\nwhat infinite fame would be his. Instead of this, under a false sense\nof honor, and in the kindness of his heart, he proffered the Fiend\nassistance to unhitch his tail! The Devil leaped up in the air and\nrolled himself up in the coils of his tail till he had reached the\ncloud, and there, with the help of claws and hoofs and horns, succeeded\nat last in unhitching it. Immediately, back he sprang, and stood before\nStrap in the attitude of a boxer.\n\n\u201cThe battle raged with varying fortunes all day, till the Devil grew\nagain to monstrous size, and at last wore Strap out on the unequal\nterms, till the mighty champion sought quarter, crestfallen and utterly\novercome. The country for a great circuit round rang with the hideous\nnoise of battle, and Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall and forty Indian\nbraves stood on the bank of the river and hearkened to it, amazed. As\nnight fell they saw a great gray horse riding through the air down the\nvalley, with the dread form of a red monkey astride his back in front,\nand the form of an overpowered man dangling across him behind. The\nhorse and riders lit on the top of yon cedar-covered mountain that\nlooks down upon La Grange from the north, and then all disappeared in\nthe forest. On the spot of the dread encounter no earth has ever\naccumulated, and no green grass or tree has ever grown there since; but\nit remains, and will forever remain, in black deformity.\n\n\n\nHE RETURNS\n\n\u201cThree months passed, and one morn as Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall\nwere counting their skins, they were stricken with amazement to see\nStrap Buckner ride up before them on his swift gray nag. He dismounted\nand stood before them, and they were the more amazed. And he looked\ndistant and sad and solemn, as if he were contemplating things afar\noff. He spake to them not; but they fell on their faces before him, and\nsaid: \u2018Mighty champion of the world, depart hence!\u2019 He said simply:\n\u2018Skin for skin!\u2019 and sadly and slowly rode away. Bob Turket and Bill\nSmotherall watched him depart, and counted no more skins that day.\n\n\u201cThree months he dwelt in his cabin, and thrice weekly he visited the\ntrading house, where he walked about like one contemplating the dead,\nwith a sad and distant air. He was a changed man. He would drink no\nwhiskey, and would knock no man down. Finally, one night, a great blue\nflame rose far above the valley, and cast a pale, deathly light over\nthe land. On the top of the blue flame appeared a great gray nag, and\nastride him sat the dread form of a red monkey, and behind the red\nmonkey sat the form of a gigantic man waving a gigantic iron pestle,\nwhereat the dread form of the red monkey seemed to cower. When morning\narose, Strap\u2019s house was in ashes and cinders.\n\n\u201cEvasit, abiit! Since that mysterious and perhaps fatal night, he has\nnever been seen in his proper person as in the olden time. Yet often at\nnight when the tempest howls and the thunders roar, his form, or\nshadow, or image, or whatever it be, is seen to stride this valley in\nwhich we ride, on his swift bob-tail nag. When a Buckner\u2019s Creek baby\ncries, whether from pure perverseness or from colic, only say to him\n\u2018Strap Buckner\u2019 once, and he will forthwith scrooch up in his cradle,\nand you will hear no more from that baby for hours. Behold in him the\ntitular divinity to whom all the cowboys lift up their emulation and\nprayers.\u201d\n\n\u201cI perceive, sir,\u201d said I, \u201cthat thou art a true poet, and I thank\nthee.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I perceive, sir,\u201d said he, \u201cthat thou art a true epilogue, and I\nthank thee. This is the road which bids me depart from thee. Farewell!\u201d\n\nHe turned his horse and departed from me, as other friends had done\nbefore.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF CHEETWAH\n\nBy Edith C. Lane\n\n\n[To me, this legend sounds like some naive excuse invented by the\nSpanish to account for their great overthrow by the Indians of the\nSouthwest in 1680. Just as likely it is an Indian boast of that\noverthrow. An observation recorded by the observant Josiah Gregg in\n1844 seems to me luminous here. Gregg says that, according to\ntradition, numerous and productive mines were \u201cin operation in New\nMexico before the expulsion of the Spaniards in 1680; but that the\nIndians, seeing that the cupidity of the conquerors had been the cause\nof their former cruel oppressions, determined to conceal all the mines\nby filling them up, and obliterating as much as possible every trace of\nthem. This was done so effectually, as is told, that after the second\nconquest (the Spaniards in the meantime not having turned their\nattention to mining pursuits for a series of years) succeeding\ngenerations were never able to discover them again. Indeed it is now\ngenerally credited by the Spanish population, that the Pueblo Indians,\nup to the present day, are acquainted with the locales of a great\nnumber of these wonderful mines, of which they most sedulously preserve\nthe secret. Rumor further asserts that the old men and sages of the\nPueblos periodically lecture the youths on this subject, warning them\nagainst discovering the mines to the Spaniards, lest the cruelties of\nthe original conquest be renewed towards them, and they be forced to\ntoil and suffer in those mines as in days of yore.\u201d\u2014Gregg, Josiah,\nCommerce of the Prairies, Philadelphia, 1855, Vol. I, pp.\n162\u2013163.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nUpon a northwestern peak of Mount Franklin, near El Paso, there stands\nout against the brilliant blue of a western sky the distinct outline of\nan Indian\u2019s head. It is plainly visible at almost any hour of the day\nand is an object of wonder and speculation to the majority of\nbeholders.\n\nAccording to the legend told me many years ago by an old, old Indian,\nCheetwah was the chief of an ancient tribe in New Mexico. He was\naccustomed to go into old Mexico every few years, and often at the\npoint in the mountains where the Indian head now shows, he with his\nfollowers encountered hostile wanderers, whereupon followed battles\nshort but fierce.\n\nFinally, after about two centuries of goings and encounters, Cheetwah\ncame upon a band of another and a strange race, the Spaniards. With\nmuch pomposity, they commanded him and his people to surrender to them\nall their gold and silver and then to be gone. The order so incensed\nCheetwah that, climbing to the top of the peak, he sent forth a great\ncall to all the Indians in the spirit world to rally to his assistance\nand rout the haughty Spaniards forever from their usurped power in\nMexico.\n\nAfter a battle in which the Indians seemed guided by some supernatural\npower, the Spaniards were vanquished. Then Cheetwah and his men\nvanished into the mountains, there to keep vigil through all the\ncenturies that no alien should prosper from the mineral wealth of their\nland. Eventually the pale-faces came back, but it was further decreed\nby the Great Spirit that for all time the face of Cheetwah should\nremain upon the peak whence he had issued his great call, a reminder\nthat, though conquered outwardly for a time, the Indian shall yet come\nback into his own and rule the mighty country that his ancestors\npossessed in freedom. Thus stands Cheetwah today, aloof and majestic,\nbiding his time.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN IN BLUE\n\nBy Charles H. Heimsath\n\n\nSo far as I know, the first mention of the legend of the \u201cBlue Lady\u201d is\nin the Memorial of Fray Alonso de Benavides, 1630. Benavides was\n(1621\u20131629) Father Custodian of the province of New Mexico, and his\nMemorial was written to present Philip IV of Spain an account of the\n\u201ctreasures spiritual and temporal\u201d which that remote province\ncontained. In the course of this highly entertaining document Benavides\nrecounts at length, and with pious zeal, the miraculous conversion of\nthe Jumano tribe of Indians. Benavides was at that time (probably 1629)\nsomewhere in the upper Rio Grande valley. In this region, he states,\nthe Jumano Indians had been demanding missionaries for \u201cyears back.\u201d\nFinally he granted the missionaries.\n\n\n    \u201cAnd before they went,\u201d to quote the document literally, \u201c[we]\n    asked the Indians to tell us the reason why they were with so much\n    concern petitioning us for baptism, and for Religious to go and\n    indoctrinate them. They replied that a woman like that one whom we\n    had there painted\u2014which was a picture of the Mother Luisa de\n    Carrion\u2014used to preach to each one of them in their own tongue,\n    telling them that they should come and summon the Fathers to\n    instruct and baptize them, and that they should not be slothful\n    about it. And that the woman who preached was dressed precisely\n    like her who was painted there; but that the face was not like that\n    one, but that she [their visitant] was young and beautiful. And\n    always whenever Indians came newly from those nations, looking upon\n    the picture and comparing it among themselves, they said that the\n    clothing was the same but the face was not, because the face of the\n    woman who preached to them was that of a young and beautiful girl.\u201d\n    [96]\n\n\nAnother early reference to this mysterious lady appears in a letter of\nFray Damian Manzanet to Don Carlos de Sig\u00fcenza y Gongora, 1690. In it\nthe writer goes on to say as follows:\n\n\n    \u201cAt that time I was living in the Mission Caldera, in the province\n    of Coahuila, whither I had gone with the intention of seeing\n    whether I could make investigations and obtain information about\n    the country to the north and northeast, on account of facts\n    gathered from a letter now in my possession, which had been given\n    in Madrid to the Father Antonio Linaz. This letter treats of what\n    the blessed Mother Maria de Jesus de Agreda made known to the\n    Father Custodian of New Mexico, Fray Alonso de Benavides. And the\n    blessed Mother tells of having been frequently to New Mexico and to\n    the Gran Quivira, adding that eastward from the Gran Quivira are\n    the kingdoms of the Ticlas, Theas, and Caburcol. She also says that\n    these are not exactly the names belonging to these kingdoms, but\n    come close to the real names. Because of this information brought\n    by me from Spain, together with the fact of my call to the ministry\n    for the conversion of the heathen, I had come over and dwelt in the\n    missions of Coahuila.\u201d [97]\n\n\nAnd in the same letter a little further on Manzanet recounts this\nincident:\n\n\n    \u201cFor lack of more time I shall only add what is the most noteworthy\n    of all, namely this: While we were at the Tejas Hasinai village,\n    after we had distributed clothing to the Indians and to the\n    governor of the Tejas, that governor asked me for a piece of blue\n    baize in which to bury his mother when she died; I told him that\n    cloth would be more suitable, and he answered that he did not want\n    any other color than blue. I then asked him what mysterious reason\n    he had for preferring the blue color, and in reply he said they\n    were very fond of that color, particularly for burial clothes,\n    because in times past they had been visited frequently by a\n    beautiful woman, who used to come down from the hills, dressed in\n    blue garments, and that they wished to do as that woman had done.\n    On my asking whether that had been long since, the governor said\n    that it had been before his time, but his mother, who was aged, had\n    seen that woman, as had also other old people. From this it is\n    easily to be seen that they referred to the Madre Maria de Jesus de\n    Agreda, who was frequently in those regions, as she herself\n    acknowledged to the Father Custodian of New Mexico, her last visit\n    being in 1631, the last fact being evident from her own statement,\n    made to the Father Custodian of New Mexico.\u201d [98]\n\n\nIt appears, therefore, that after the publication of his Memorial in\n1630, Benavides visited Maria de Jesus de Agreda. She was already\nfamous because of the publication of her La Mistica de Dios Historia\nDivina de la Virgin, Madre de Dios in 1627, [99] in which she recounts,\namong other preposterous things, what happened to the Virgin while she\nwas in the womb. The mind of this woman, therefore, filled with the\nmost extravagant fancies, was fertile for the story of Benavides. She\nimmediately assumed the identity of the unknown female missionary; and,\nin the course of the visit, which lasted probably two weeks, elaborated\nfully the exact method of the holy visitations. Benavides with his\ncharming medieval mind readily accepted her story. Because of the\nprominence of the two, and because of the universal interest in the New\nWorld, it obtained rapid and wide circulation and credence.\n\nThe story must have reached America quickly. Manzanet, in the above\nquotations, speaks of it as being in general circulation thirty years\nlater. That it spread is also indicated by the fact that De Leon in a\nletter, May, 1689, accounts for the religious knowledge of the Texas\n(or Tejas) Indians through the ministration of a woman. The following\nextract from his letter reveals the fact that he was not so well\nacquainted with the Benavides account as Manzanet had been:\n\n\n    \u201cThey [the Texas] are very familiar with the fact that there is\n    only one true God, that he is in Heaven, and that he was born of\n    the Holy Virgin. They perform many Christian rites, and the Indian\n    Governor asked me for missionaries to instruct them, saying that\n    many years ago a woman went inland to instruct them, but that she\n    has not been there for a long time; and certainly it is a pity that\n    people so rational, who plant crops and know there is a God, should\n    have no one to teach them the Gospel, especially when the province\n    of Texas is so large and so fertile and has so fine a climate.\u201d\n    [100]\n\n\nAnd Shea asserts that \u201cthe Franciscan writers all from this time [when\nBenavides published his account] speak of this marvelous conversion of\nthe Xumanos by her instrumentality as a settled fact.\u201d [101] The legend\nmust have had wide acceptance in the Southwest in the last half of the\nseventeenth century. Among the important historians who take account of\nit are Bolton, Chapman, and Hodge. Bolton calls the story a \u201cclassic in\nthe lore of the Southwest\u201d; [102] Chapman refers to Maria Agreda as\n\u201cthe celebrated \u2018Blue Lady\u2019 of the American Southwest\u201d; [103] and Hodge\nas editor of the translation of the Benavides Memorial gives a full\naccount of the story in his excellent notes. [104]\n\nSo far as I know, the identity of the Blue Lady has been accounted for\nby no one except Benavides. What is the real basis of the story? Could\nthere actually have been a female missionary who labored in the wilds\nof New Mexico and Texas before the coming of the Fathers? Or was there\nsome young priest whom zeal led into that romantic region ahead of the\nmost daring, and whom the natives mistook for a beautiful woman because\nof his youthful face and priestly robes? I wish I could answer.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE HEADLESS SQUATTER\n\nBy John R. Craddock\n\n\nA little to the right of where the old \u201cKenzie\u201d Trail winds around the\nhead of Presslar\u2019s Draw, on the \u2014 C Ranch in Dickens County, Texas,\nstands a lone cottonwood tree that has for many years been a landmark.\nJust below the tree, one of the most beautiful springs of the western\ncountry empties out, and a short distance from the bank are the remains\nof a dugout\u2014once the home of the first settlers in the country. By some\nmiracle, the spring and the land immediately about it have escaped the\nravages of progress and are as wild today as they were when the\nMcKenzie Trail was dusty with travel. Only now, so the people say, the\ngrass grown trail near by, with its rain-washed ruts cut deep, and the\nruins of the long ago abandoned dugout, with broken bits of domestic\nutensils still strewn about, have become the habitation of phantoms\u2014the\nhaunt and the haunted.\n\nYears ago, Ben \u2014\u2014 and Burl \u2014\u2014 squatted here and made what they called\nthe Cottonwood Claim. They were firm friends and shared alike the joys\nand hardships of frontier life. Travelers came but seldom, and in their\nlonely seclusion the two men came to know each other and to depend on\neach other for human understanding as few brothers ever know or\nunderstand one another. When the cottonwood Burl had planted reached a\nheight of some twelve feet, the country began to settle and land values\nto soar. Ben wanted to hold the claim, while Burl wished to sell out\nand return to the East. Their differences developed into a dispute that\nended in a tragedy.\n\nThe dispute came to the point that neither of the men spoke to the\nother. For weeks they lived in sullen silence, wrath and hatred damming\nup for some terrible outbreak. It came one evening when Burl was\ndigging out a grub with his spade. Ben was standing by, the ax that he\nhad been chopping with in hand. Suddenly, while Burl was bent over\nalmost to the ground, Ben swung the ax with a great choking cry and\ncurse and at one blow cut his head off. Then he buried the body under a\nsmall cliff not far from the spring.\n\nA few months afterward Ben became crazy, driven, it is said, into\ninsanity by the ghost of his dead partner, which was constantly\nappearing before him as natural as in life\u2014except headless. Of nights\nas Ben sat by his fire the ghost of his partner would steal in and take\nthe vacant chair. As soon as he had done with supper and had sat down,\nBen could hear a horse coming up the trail; he could hear the creaking\nof the saddle; he could hear the whir of the spurs as the ghost came in\nfrom the darkness; and then seated in his old chair, it mattered not\nwhether the room was lighted or in darkness, would appear the murdered\nsquatter. Sometimes when Ben was riding far out on distant ranges he\nwould suddenly hear the galloping of a horse, and there alongside him\nwould be coming the same apparition, headless, always headless.\n\nThus hounded, Ben finally told the story of his deed to a sheriff. But\nhe had already acquired the reputation for being \u201ccracked\u201d and the\nsheriff paid no attention to him. Then one day a rider found the\nbloated body of Ben hanging from a limb of the cottonwood. Beyond all\ndoubt he had killed himself.\n\nThe folk of the country still tell this tale, and they say that at\nnight the phantoms can be seen crossing the old Trail or stealing about\nthe dugout. Some say that they have heard the cry of \u201cO-O-O, Ben\u201d come\nas from far away and then a cry of despair answer back from the\ncottonwood tree.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMYSTERIOUS MUSIC IN THE SAN BERNARD RIVER\n\nBy Bertha McKee Dobie\n\n\n[Material for this compilation, with the exception of Mr. Morris\u2019\naccounts published in the Freeport Facts and Mrs. West\u2019s folk tales,\nwas supplied through the Editor.]\n\n\nThe mysterious music in the San Bernard River at Music Bend in Brazoria\nCounty is not so haunting as the siren strains against which Ulysses\nwaxed his ears or as the luring song of the Lorelei. But perhaps all\nthat it lacks is its Homer or its Heine. This Texas music, if less\nenchanting, is less deceptive. It draws no one on to his destruction.\nThe legend of the San Bernard is widely known and, like all truly\npopular legends, as yet unfixed by a master\u2019s using, has many forms.\n\nThe account most expressive of the folk that has come to my notice is\nthat supplied by Mrs. West of Velasco. This account is chiefly\nconcerned with the character of the music and with the apparitions that\nappeared to Mrs. West\u2019s mother and brother. According to Mrs. West, the\nmusic never plays for those who laugh at it or doubt it, but those who\nrow out over Music Bend with an open mind may hear music sweeter than\nany played with hands. It sounds, she says, like the music of violins.\nSometimes it is preceded by a very dreadful noise, resembling the\nsounds made by a steer which, having been knocked in the head, falls,\nkicking and beating the ground and bellowing in pain. After the noise\nhas passed, the violins begin to play. Mrs. West is the only one of my\nauthorities who mentions the dreadful noise. Mr. Eugene Wilson, Jr.,\nwrites in \u201cMysterious Music on the San Bernard,\u201d The Gulf Messenger,\nVolume VII, December, 1894: \u201cIt has been likened to a number of musical\ninstruments, by a few to the soft, sweet notes of the Aeolian harp.\u201d\nThis last is the sound most frequently heard by Mr. J. W. Morris of\nFreeport, though he also mentions the violin, the flute, and the human\nvoice.\n\nThere is equal variation, indeed contradiction, in accounts of the time\nwhen the music may be heard. Mrs. West, who grew up on the San Bernard,\nsays that the music may be heard by day or by night, though not\ncontinuously or regularly even by those who \u201cbelieve in it.\u201d This\ntestimony is corroborated by Mr. F. D. Letts, an abstract of whose\narticle, published years ago in the Galveston Daily News, has been\nsupplied by Mr. E. G. Littlejohn. Mr. Wilson, in the article referred\nto above, states that it is audible at night only, and can be heard\nmost distinctly when the moon is full. Miss Lorene Cook, who lived for\na time at the mouth of the river, limits the music strictly to the time\nof the full moon, between the hours of twelve and one. Mr. Morris, in\nthree separate accounts, published in the Freeport Facts, 1922, records\nimpressions of the music at night, but does not expressly state that it\ncannot be heard during the day.\n\nOne point of interest, to which several auditors testify, is the\npermeating quality of the music. Some of them, in attempting to\ndescribe this quality, fall back upon other senses than hearing. Mrs.\nWest says that she could almost see the sound, which began softly, as\nif at an elevation, and slowly came down to the boat. Miss Cook reports\nthat the sound was \u201cso close at times that I felt as if I could touch\nit with my hands.\u201d Mr. Wilson\u2019s article contains this sentence: \u201cOn\nfirst coming within its limits, one can easily perceive that it\nproceeds from under the water, but in a short while it is impossible to\nlocate it, as it gets under the seats, in the bow and in all parts of\nthe boat, overhead and around; in fact, it seems to pervade the\natmosphere.\u201d\n\nI have heard of no apparitions in connection with the music except\nthose seen by Mrs. West\u2019s mother and brother. However, as they\nillustrate very well the workings of folk imagination, I record them\nhere. Mrs. West\u2019s mother, Mrs. Mary Ducroz, was one of a considerable\nparty rowing at midnight on the river. Just as the boat drew over Music\nBend she saw a man, with a bridle over his arm, come down to the water,\nturn, and go back into the woods. She could see only the upper part of\nhis body. He seemed not to walk but to glide. He was not visible to any\nother member of the party, though Mrs. Ducroz tried very hard to make\nthe others see him. She is quite certain about having seen him herself,\nas the moon was very bright. At another time Mrs. West\u2019s brother, then\na boy of fourteen years, was riding horseback at night when he saw\nbefore him a man and a woman sitting in the middle of the road. They\ndid not seem to see at all a very large ant bed just in front of them.\nThe boy had seen the ant bed many times in passing along the same road.\nNow he saw the most beautiful horse he had ever seen, dappled gray,\ntied with an extremely large and knotted rope to a tree at the side of\nthe road. The horse evidently belonged to the man and woman who were\nsitting in the middle of the public way. The boy urged his horse\nforward, but the horse refused to go. Then the boy remembered that he\nwas just above the ghostly Music Bend, and turned his horse about.\n\nTo Mrs. West I am also indebted for a relation of the effect of the\nmusic upon some of those who have heard it. When she was a child, an\nold gentleman boarded for a time at her father\u2019s house. The old\ngentleman used to row out over the Bend day after day on the chance of\nhearing the music, and return at night to tell his hosts that surely\nthey imagined the music. They knew that they did not imagine the music,\nbut thought that perhaps the old gentleman could not hear it, as it is\nnot given to all to hear such ghostly music. One evening, however, he\ncame back in terror. Suddenly, as his boat was over the Bend, he had\nbegun to tremble as if in a chill, and his hat seemed to rise from his\nhead. At once he had begun to hear the sweetest and most terrible music\nthat ever he had heard. He never wished to hear it again. In 1920\u2014Mrs.\nWest is again my informant\u2014two girls were drowned in the San Bernard;\nand when the searchers told of finding the bodies, they told also of\nhearing the most beautiful funeral music that ever they had heard. But\nit was music that they hoped never to hear again.\n\nThe real legend of the music is the story of its origin. The several\nversions have only one point of identity: that a fiddler who played on\nthe bank in life plays on in the waters in death; and in one version\nthe fiddler played from a boat. One common story is that two men who\nfroze to death beneath a tree at Music Bend were fiddlers. As Miss\nLorene Cook has heard the tale, an old hermit fiddler was murdered by\npirates who sought refuge in the San Bernard River during a storm. Mr.\nWilson\u2019s account explains: \u201cThe negroes really believe it to be a\nghost. They say that many years ago, on a dark and stormy night ... a\nsloop with two sailors aboard ... was forced to seek shelter in the San\nBernard; that one of the sailors was a fiddler, and that as soon as the\nwinds began to lay, he began to fiddle for joy; that his mate, desiring\nto sleep, was so enraged that he attempted to stop him by force, and\nthat in the scuffle the fiddler fell overboard and was drowned; that\nthe other sailor, while angry, threw the fiddle and bow into the river;\nand that on that very night the ghost of the dead sailor played so\ntouchingly that the living mate could not sleep, and that every night\nsince then it has played the same tune, again and again.\u201d\n\nIn most of the stories the musician lived alone at the Bend. The most\nromantic of them is that retold by Mr. J. W. Morris in the Freeport\nFacts with certain variations. \u201cIn life the musician lost his fianc\u00e9e a\nfew hours before they were to have been married. She walked to the\nriver to pluck a white water-lily to braid in her shining hair for the\nmarriage, but as she reached for the flower, a snake head sprang forth\nand bit her on her white neck and she fell dead in the water.\u201d The\nmusician then threw himself, with his violin, into the river. According\nto another account of Mr. Morris\u2019 the lover moved to a small island in\nthe stream, and there lived. At his death his violin and bow were\nburied with him, and still he plays strange, sweet music.\n\nAnother version of the love legend has been contributed by Miss Sarah\nS. King of San Antonio, who heard the story from Miss Arline Rather. In\nit the maiden was accustomed to go to the stream each evening for\nwater, and there to meet her lover. One day an arrow struck her down.\nHer lover, approaching, called and played his liveliest tunes, and then\nfound her dead in the waist-high ferns. As in the preceding account,\nthe musician then flung his violin and himself into the river.\n\nThe version supplied by Mr. E. G. Littlejohn has considerable\ncircumstantial detail. According to this account, the young hermit, son\nof a wealthy Eastern gentleman, had been jilted in a love affair, and\nhad come to the lonely hut on the San Bernard in hope of forgetting his\ngrief. This was long before Texas gained her independence. The young\ngentleman was a violinist of so much repute that the officers of a\nmilitary post in Central Texas sent two troopers to engage his services\nfor a ball. They found the violinist lying dead upon the floor, and\nnear him an ax covered with congealed blood. His murderer had taken\nfrom the shack everything of value, even wearing apparel, except the\nviolin, which hung still in its accustomed place on the wall. The\ntroopers buried the body under an oak tree, and took the violin and\nprivate papers to the commanding officer of the fort. But on a spirit\nviolin the young hermit has played for a century.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH BELL OF THE BRAZOS\n\nBy Bertha McKee Dobie\n\n\n[More than one early Texan was concerned with slave-running. Yoakum\n[105] says that the three Bowies, Rezin, James, and John, made\nsixty-five thousand dollars in this trade. Fannin also ran slaves,\noperating from Cuba to Texas under the name of J. F. Walker. With him,\nas with others, the Brazos was a port of entry. Writing from \u201cVelasco,\nRio Brazos, Prov. Texas, Aug. 27, 1835,\u201d he says: \u201cMy last voyage from\nthe island of Cuba (with 152) succeeded admirably.\u201d [106] On May 26,\n1837, it was reported from New Orleans to the British minister,\nPakenham, that \u201csome slaves were brought from Cuba and landed in Texas\nby the Am. Schooners Waterwich and Emperor. A some few Months ago a\nCargo was run at the Brazos River by a Vessel under the Texas Colors.\u201d\n[107] Until a few years ago the ruins of a house near Velasco were\npointed out as marking the habitation of a man whose business had been\nthe buying and distributing of smuggled slaves.\n\nCharles D. Hudgins, a lawyer who grew up near the mouth of the Brazos,\nsays in his book of poems called The Maid of San Jacinto: \u201cIt is said\nthat shortly after Texas obtained her independence, a ship loaded with\nslaves from Africa was chased into the Brazos by a United States man of\nwar; that she had a number of sick negroes on board; that the well\nnegroes were landed and hurried through the woods, while the sick ones\nwere weighed down with chains and thrown into the river.\u201d [108]\n\nHowever, Mr. Hudgins does not connect the \u201cmysterious music\u201d of the\nBrazos with the slave ship, though such a connection is common in the\nvicinity. He continues: \u201cThree miles above the mouth of the Brazos\nRiver is what is known as the haunted Labore. Twain causes conspire to\ngive rise to the superstition among the ignorant with regard to this\nspot. The first is a grave near the bank of the stream; the second is a\npeculiar humming noise, that can be heard there on still summer\nnights\u2014this noise is soft, like the notes of an Aeolian harp, and\nsuperstition, coupling it with the grave, has woven many a tale of the\nhaunted Labore.\u201d[108]\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nThis legend is set down in the words of Mrs. A. F. Shannon of Velasco.\n\n\u201cThis is the account I heard as a child of the music in the Brazos.\nAbout 1836 or 1838 Texas passed a law forbidding the bringing of slaves\nfrom Africa. But boats, slave runners they were called, used to come\nfrom Africa to Cuba and wait there until they thought they could slip\nacross the Gulf. One of these ships with three hundred slaves nailed\ndown into the hold\u2014they brought them over like freight\u2014put into the\nBrazos. But before it could reach the safety of the timber, it was\nfollowed by\u2014I don\u2019t know exactly what it was, whether it was a revenue\ncutter or what, but anyway a government boat. This boat gained on the\nslave ship, and seeing that they were lost, the crew of the slave ship\nscuttled it, and it went down with its three hundred negroes in the\nhold, at Seaview Bend, about four miles from Quintana.\n\n\u201cWhen I was a child we could hear every evening at sunset the ringing\nof a great bell. Very plain it was. The negroes called it \u2018the death\nbell.\u2019 Mammy Kitty had stayed on with my grandmother after the Civil\nWar, and when I was a child was about eighty or ninety years old and\nalways sat in the \u2018chimley corner.\u2019 Every day when the bell tolled at\nsunset I would run to Mammy Kitty and put my head in her lap. She would\nrun her hands over my head and croon until the bell stopped. The other\nnegroes whispered \u2018the death bell,\u2019 and stood still while it rang. They\nthought the bell was ringing for the three hundred negroes in the\nscuttled ship. And then whenever we passed over Seaview Bend we could\nhear faint music like that of a guitar played at a distance. Since the\njetties have been built and there has been so much traffic on the\nriver, the music has gone away, and I have seen no one who has heard it\nof late years. I know now that \u2018the death bell\u2019 must have been the\nsunset bell of a big sugar plantation ten or twelve miles up the river.\nThe water carried the sound down. But I still hear the death bell\nringing in my ears and feel Mammy Kitty\u2019s hand passing over my head.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF THE SALT MARSHES (SAN LUIS PASS, BRAZORIA COUNTY)\n\nBy Bertha McKee Dobie\n\n\nThis legend was told me by Mrs. A. F. Shannon of Velasco. San Luis Pass\nis the narrow entrance from the Gulf into a small and sheltered bay on\nthe Texas coast. It is a wild and mournful spot, where sea gulls scream\nand breakers roar. It is especially wild and mournful when the wind is\neast, as the few settlers say. Then three great billows roll in\nsuccessively from the Gulf, overtake each other on the bar, and break\ntogether with the sound of thunder. This breaking together of the\nbillows is called the boor [109] on the bar.\n\nA great many years ago a fisherman lived with his wife and young child\nat the Pass. One day when the wind was east and the boor was on the\nbar, he went out in his boat to fish. The wind blew stronger, the\nbillows rose higher, and a great tide came in, flooding the salt\nmarshes that border the Pass. The fisherman did not return. A few days\nlater other fishermen found the young wife, quite demented, wandering\nin the salt marshes and calling, \u201cCome back! Come back!\u201d Since that\ntime, when the wind is east and the boor is on the bar, the white form\nof the woman flits over the marshes and cries, \u201cCome back! Come back!\u201d\nin warning to fishermen whose boats are on the water.\n\nIt is probable that the white wings and the hoarse cries of the giant\ngulls that come in to the marshes only when there is a high east wind\nand the lives of fishermen are threatened have given rise to this\nlegend of the salt marshes. Such an explanation, at least, was\nsuggested to Mrs. Shannon by Mr. Lon Follet.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nRHYMES OF GALVESTON BAY\n\nBy John P. Sjolander\n\n\nYears ago, when I used to run vessels on Galveston Bay and along the\ncoast, I gathered up some stories told by old boatmen on nights when we\nlay wind-bound. Later I put them into rhyme and I may have tried to\nornament them with some phrases of my own. Some of the \u201cRhymes\u201d were\npublished in the Galveston News, 1910, and later came out in the Texas\nMagazine (Houston).\n\n\n\nTHE BOAT THAT NEVER SAILED\n\n(Note: In the early 70\u2019s the hull of a boat, all overgrown with vines\nand briers, was found at a place then known as Hungry Cove, on San\nJacinto Bay. The story of it was told me by an old boatman who had been\na settler of that section of the country for many years.)\n\n\n    Like the moan of a ghost that is doomed to rove,\n    Is the voice of the wind in Hungry Cove.\n\n    And the brier bites with a sharper thorn\n    Than the fang of hate, or the tooth of scorn.\n\n    And the twining vines are as cunningly set\n    As ever a poacher placed snare or net.\n\n    And the waves are hushed, and they move as slow\n    As fugitives making headway, tiptoe.\n\n    For Nature remembers, as well as Man,\n    The time and the place, and the Mary Ann.\n\n    The time, man-measured, was long ago,\n    Some seventy fleeting years, or so.\n\n    The place, where the sea was with light agleam,\n    And the shore shone white as a maiden\u2019s dream.\n\n    And the Mary Ann\u2014how a prayer prevailed!\u2014\n    Was the name of the boat that never sailed.\n\n    For the men who built it, a blackguard twain,\n    Had taken a maiden\u2019s pure name in vain.\n\n    And she prayed that for taunts, and for many mocks,\n    The boat would not move from its building blocks.\n\n    But the builders laughed at the maiden\u2019s prayer,\n    And spit on her name they had painted there.\n\n    And they swore, in defiance of God and man,\n    They would launch the boat they had named Mary Ann.\n\n    But when they stood ready at stern and stem,\n    The boat fell down on the heads of them.\n\n    And no one came to where crushed they lay,\n    And no one will come until judgment day.\n\n    For their guards are briers with thorns that bite\n    With a pain as keen as the sting of spite.\n\n    And their only dirge is the song of the loon,\n    When the sea is black, in the dark of the moon.\n\n\n\nTHE PADRE\u2019S BEACON [110]\n\n(Note: Boatmen, at night, staring into the fog and haze in search of\ncertain marks and objects, often think to see them, only to have them\ndisappear again when they blink their eyes. These visual illusions are\ncalled Padre\u2019s Beacons. An old boatman, many years ago, told how the\nname originated, and his story is here set down in rhyme.)\n\n\n    With eager eyes an Indian peered\n      Into the darkness of the night,\n    And his canoe he swiftly sheered\n      From right to left, from left to right;\n    For lost within the blinding fog,\n      He saw the mad waves roll and toss,\n    And found both snag and sunken log\n      But not the Padre\u2019s beacon cross.\n\n    He dipped his paddle in the sea,\n      And found its depth now less, now more;\n    And where he thought the Pass would be\n      He only found a weedstrewn shore.\n    He questioned of the hidden star,\n      And counseled with the waning moon,\n    But found no answer, near or far,\n      Only the lone cry of the loon.\n\n    And he had steered by wave and wind\n      To where the beacon cross should be,\n    That marked the place where all might find\n      The way into the Trinity.\n    For there, \u2019mong cypress trees grown gray,\n      The padre\u2019s little hut showed white,\n    Beneath a shining cross by day,\n      And in a taper\u2019s gleam by night.\n\n    But vandal hands had cut adrift\n      The padre\u2019s beacon in the night,\n    And without prayer, and without shrift,\n      A sea wrecked soul at dawn took flight.\n    And now who sails the bay at night,\n      And scans the dark with eager eyes,\n    Out of the sea, grown gray with light,\n      Can see a beacon cross arise.\n\n    For since that night long, long ago,\n      When clouds hang wide and fogs lie deep,\n    For him that laid that beacon low\n      There is no rest in death, or sleep;\n    All night he lifts it from the sea,\n      All night he strives, and strives in vain;\n    He stands it up, but when set free\n      It sinks into the sea again.\n\n\n\nBAFFLE POINT\n\n(Baffle Point is on the north side of Bolivar peninsula, in what is\nknown as East Bay. Many small sail-boats have been dismasted and upset\nin the vicinity of this point.)\n\n\n    A boatman loved a maiden, long ago,\n      And good and fair was she;\n    A maiden loved a boatman, even so,\n      And strong and true was he;\n    And one dark night the lovers sailed away\n    To where the good priest dwelt, across the bay.\n\n    A father\u2019s heart grew fierce with raging hate,\n      And cruel as could be;\n    But he would plan and work, and work and wait\u2014\n      A cunning man was he;\n    He swore that boatmen all, excepting none,\n    Should penance pay for the sin of one.\n\n    He planned and worked, and then he worked and planned,\n      Not idle night or day;\n    Sentinel sandhills raised he on the strand\n      In some mysterious way;\n    On sloping hills he planted phantom trees\n    That changed their shapes with every changing breeze.\n\n    Now when the south wind, singing, came inshore,\n      As gentle as could be,\n    For it he opened wide a cavern door\n      That none but him could see;\n    And then the trees would groan, and cringe, and sway,\n    Casting long shadows over shore and bay.\n\n    When the work was done as he had planned,\n      He laughed and danced in glee;\n    Then as the waters of the bay he scanned,\n      A boat his eyes did see;\n    And then the south wind in the cavern pent\n    Over the hills down to the sea he sent.\n\n    When he saw the wind in madness reel,\n      And strike the little boat,\n    And how down went the mast and up the keel,\n      A glad cry left his throat.\n    The waters grew quiet and dull as a sea of lead;\n    A man and woman at his feet lay dead.\n\n    By them, some boatmen found him, long ago,\n      As dead as he could be;\n    Deep, deep, they dug two graves, and all arow\n      At night they buried three.\n    Since then the winds are ever out of joint,\n    And play strange tricks and pranks at Baffle Point.\n\n\n\nPOINT SESENTA\n\n(Note: All that is left of Point Sesenta\u2014presumably so called from the\nsixty (sesenta) trees\u2014is a reef known as Fisher\u2019s Reef, on the north\nshore of Trinity Bay. The story of the Point was told to me by Captain\nJames Armstrong, just as it had been told to him by an old Indian chief\nwhose tribe used to visit the bay shore many, many years before the\nRepublic.)\n\n\n    The mocking birds sang in the sixty trees,\n      And Inez walked in their shadow;\n    The soft winds came laughing from southern seas,\n      And the bay seemed a green-waved meadow;\n    But a wealth of song, and of wind and water,\n    Requites not the love of an Indio\u2019s daughter.\n\n    Don Miguel\u2019s pastures lay far and wide,\n      His herds by peons were tended,\n    But all he possessed was as naught beside\n      Fair Inez so young and splendid.\n    Still his heart was sore, for the winds kept saying:\n    \u201cThe trees sesenta are graying, graying.\u201d\n\n    Inez the fair walked \u2019neath the moss-grown trees,\n      By the side of her gray-grown lover;\n    And oft times she dreamed that o\u2019er many seas\n      He had come like a brave young rover;\n    But when for sight of him her dark eyes gleamed\n    They met dim eyes in a face deep seamed.\n\n    Then out of the north came a viking ship,\n      With a viking young and brawny;\n    A snare for love was his tender grip,\n      And a net were his locks so tawny.\n    Wherever man goes over hill and hollow,\n    There a woman loving him dares to follow.\n\n    Ah, that is the tale told in every zone,\n      A story told over and over.\n    Don Miguel one morning found Inez flown,\n      And the ship, and the bold young rover.\n    And the winds were hushed, and the trees unshaken,\n    And the birds had fled, their nests forsaken.\n\n    The boatmen passing beheld the trees,\n      Saw how they all were dying;\n    The winds grew fierce and angered the seas,\n      And the flurrying sands went flying,\n    Until Point Sesenta was quite departed,\n    And left but a name and a place uncharted.\n\n\n\nGUMMAN GRO\n\n(Note: Gumman Gro is phonetic Swedish for \u201cThe Woman Gray.\u201d Skell,\nmaster of Sweet Cecilia, was a Swede; he and his boat disappeared from\nGalveston Bay one night and were never heard of again.)\n\n\n    They said that Gumman Gro had a great store\n      Of private treasure hid in Lone Tree Cove;\n    That she with cunning eyes watched sea and shore,\n      And that a curse was upon all who strove,\n    Always in vain, to cross the line afar\n    That she had marked outside of shoal and bar.\n\n    And it was said that many who had rushed\n      Upon the Cove with favoring wind and tide,\n    Had come away with heart and spirit crushed,\n      Bereft of courage and of manly pride,\n    To live their lives perpetual exiles,\n    Beyond the reach of cheering songs and smiles.\n\n    And so the boatmen, sailing up and down,\n      From Lone Tree Cove would sheer their boats away;\n    For on the shore a small hut loomed up brown,\n      And in the doorway stood a woman gray;\n    Whence she had come, or when, none seemed to know,\n    But Skell, the boatman, named her Gumman Gro.\n\n    And Skell would laugh the hearty laugh that springs\n      Straight from the hearts of men when young and strong,\n    While with a merry jest at men and things\n      He sailed his course, and hummed a seaman\u2019s song;\n    Oft in passing Lone Tree Cove he\u2019d sheer\n    His boat more close, and shout a word of cheer.\n\n    Then one dark night a storm swept o\u2019er the bay,\n      And the mosquito fleet was scattered wide;\n    And many men and boats until this day\n      Have not returned to watch for wind and tide;\n    And \u2019mong the missing ones that all loved well,\n    Was Sweet Cecilia, and her master, Skell.\n\n    Often on nights when winds and tides are fair,\n      On nights of calm, when God\u2019s stars search the deep,\n    Sounds from afar, like multitudes in prayer,\n      Across the waters to lone boatmen creep,\n    And then they see the dead sail to and fro,\n    But none knows whence they come, or where they go.\n\n    After the storm, when winds came from the west\n      On nights like these, Skell\u2019s ghost from Lone Tree Cove\n    Set sail, so seamen saw; then on Skell pressed\n      To shun the shoals; straight out for the deep he drove,\n    But just so far he came, and then he stopped,\n    As if an anchor sternward had been dropped.\n\n    Then from the shore a cry, half laugh, half pain,\n      Mocking and pleading, rose, and dipped, and fell,\n    Stirring the waters like a shower of rain,\n      While Sweet Cecilia, and her master, Skell,\n    A moment wavered like a light wind blown,\n    Then flashed across the darkness and were gone.\n\n    Thus every night, when out of sunset land\n      The warm winds came and drowsed upon the bay,\n    Skell and his Sweet Cecilia left the strand,\n      And sailed and sailed as if to sail away;\n    And every night that cry, half laugh, half pain,\n    Would pleading come and call him back again.\n\n    This is the tale that old-time boatmen told,\n      One to the other, long, long years ago;\n    But not the greediest for shining gold\n      Would risk the fearful curse of Gumman Gro\u2014\n    He\u2019d hope, at last, whatever else befell,\n    Death would not land him where it landed Skell.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF LOVERS\n\n\nLEGENDS OF LOVERS\n\n\nLegends of lovers are almost as numerous as those of treasure; in\nTexas, at least, the lovers are generally hapless and are nearly always\nassociated with precipitous cliffs. Indeed, legends of lovers\u2019 leaps\nprincipally make up this group. Some well known legends, such as those\nabout the Lovers\u2019 Leap at Waco and about the Lovers\u2019 Leap at Denison,\nhave been omitted. Reference to them is made in the bibliography near\nthe end of this volume. On the other hand, various versions of certain\nother legends of lovers\u2019 leaps are given in detail that the manner of\nlegend growth may be fully illustrated. The lovers\u2019 leap legend was\npopular in the time of Sappho (see Spectator paper Number 33, by\nAddison), and probably had vogue for as many years before her time as\nhave passed since. A feature to be remarked about the lovers\u2019 leap\nlegends of Texas is that seemingly all of them purport to be of Indian\nderivation. The state is yet so young that to go back to anything like\nremoteness one must go to the time of the Indian\u2014and all legend runs to\nremoteness. One need not be learned in Indian lore, however, to know\nthat in many instances the basic customs of Indian marriage are\nviolated in these legends; the attributing of his own customs of\nlove-making and marriage by the white man to the Indian is indeed\nnaive. [111] As a class, I should say that of all our Texas legends\nthese of lovers are least indigenous and least varied.\u2014J. F. D.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENCHANTED ROCK IN LLANO COUNTY\n\nBy Julia Estill\n\n\n[The fame of the Enchanted Rock in Llano County, as Miss Estill has\npointed out, goes back a long time. There are various references to it\nin Texasana, as the bibliography will show; but it is noteworthy that\nnone of the early accounts of the Enchanted Rock even so much as refer\nto the legend of the lovers, the details of which are very similar to\nthose in the most popular version of the legend of Mount Bonnell.\nHowever, in more recent years the lover legend seems to have had a wide\nvogue. It has appeared in print various times, once in the form of a\nGerman novel, Die Tochter Tehuans, printed at Fredericksburg, and my\ncorrespondence files indicate an extensive popularity of the legend.\nThe Indians no doubt had an awe for the mountain that they expressed in\nnarrative detail; the early Texans heard these accounts; then the\ndescendants of those early Texans invented a story in which the\nSpaniard played a part to fit the legendary atmosphere of the mountain.\nThus should I account for the genesis of the legend that is now told.\n\nWriting from \u201cColorado River, Texas,\u201d October 31, 1834, W. B. Dewees\ntells of what must be the Enchanted Rock of the Llano. He says: \u201cA\nshort time since, a few of our young men started to go up to the\nheadwaters of the Colorado and Brazos rivers to examine a large rock of\nmetal which has for many years been considered a wonder. It is supposed\nto be platinum. The Indians have held it sacred for centuries, and go\nthere once a year to worship it. They will not permit any white person\nto approach it. It is almost impossible to make any impression on it\nwith chisel and hammers. When struck it gives forth a ringing sound\nwhich can be heard miles around. The party were successful in finding\nthe rock, but were unable to break off any specimens to bring home.\u201d\nDewees, W. B., Letters from an Early Settler of Texas, Louisville,\nKentucky, 1852, p. 152. (Mr. E. G. Littlejohn contributes this\nreference.)\n\nDoctor Alex. Dienst of Temple, Texas, sends in an item copied from the\nNew York Mirror of October 20, 1838, in which a traveler, lately\nreturned to New York from a prospecting tour in the San Saba country,\ntells of having found an \u201cEnchanted\u201d or \u201cHoly Mountain\u201d on the upper\nwaters of the Sandy\u2014beyond all doubt the Enchanted Rock of other\naccounts. The traveler reports that \u201cthe Comanches regard this hill\nwith religious veneration, and that Indian pilgrims frequently assemble\nfrom the remotest borders of the region to perform the Paynim rites\nupon its summit.\u201d\n\nSamuel C. Reid, Jr., in a book published in 1848, The Scouting\nExpeditions of McCulloch\u2019s Texas Rangers, pages 111\u2013112, says, in\nconnection with a scouting trip that Captain Jack Hays had made into\nthe then unsettled vicinity of the Enchanted Rock:\n\n\n    \u201cWe are unable to give to the reader the traditionary cause why\n    this place was so named, but nevertheless, the Indians had a great\n    awe, amounting almost to reverence, for it, and would tell many\n    legendary tales connected with it and the fate of a few brave\n    warriors, the last of a tribe now extinct, who defended themselves\n    there for many years as in a strong castle, against the attacks of\n    their hostile brethren. But they were finally overcome and totally\n    annihilated, and ever since, the \u2018Enchanted Rock\u2019 has been looked\n    upon as the exclusive property of these phantom warriors. This is\n    one of the many tales which the Indians tell concerning it.\u201d\n\n\nReid goes on to tell that at one time Hays saved himself from such a\ntight place in a fight with the Indians near the Enchanted Rock that\nthey became more convinced than ever that \u201cDevil Jack\u201d bore a charmed\nlife.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\n\nIn the southwestern part of Llano County, very near the Gillespie\nCounty line, lies a huge mound of solid granite covering 640 acres and\nknown far and wide as the Enchanted Rock. At night spirit fires dance\non the summit, and by day millions of isinglass stars glint in the\nsunlight. During an early morning shower in the hills, when the sun\nshines out from under the passing cloud, the streams of water coursing\ndown the sides of the massive boulder resemble sheets of molten silver.\nThen above the gigantic dome there forms a rainbow-path which will lead\nthe seeker directly to a mine of gold, so the old legend goes. In fact,\nthe sands of the sluggish stream winding lazily around the base of the\nrock testify of gold in the vicinity. And the oldest pioneer in the\nneighborhood will tell you that there is a lost mine somewhere near the\nrock, the shaft having been sunk by Spaniards in the eighteenth\ncentury.\n\nThe Indian legends woven about the enchanted mound are, however, far\nmore interesting to the folk-lorist than is the story of a fabulous\nmine. My great-grandfather, Thomas A. Likens, who was first lieutenant\nof Captain Highsmith\u2019s Company of Texas Rangers when, in 1847, they\ncamped near the Enchanted Rock, told my grandfather, William H. Estill,\nof the remarkable veneration the Comanches had for the Rock, and of the\nawesome fear they manifested when at night the spirit fires danced\naloft on it. The daring ranger always knew that if he could induce his\nsure-footed pony to climb the Rock, horse and rider would be safe from\nthe pursuing savage, for the Comanche would not follow, nor would he\ndirect an arrow toward the white man who sought the protection of the\nSpirit of the Rock.\n\nAt the foot of the enormous boulder the Indians offered\nsacrifices\u2014sometimes a beautiful captive snatched from the white man\u2019s\nclearing at the edge of the woods. Then, for months, perhaps, the\nSpirit of the Rock would smile on the savage tribe, and success would\nattend their raids down the river valleys to the south.\n\nOn one such expedition, according to the story told by Father H\u00f6rmann,\n[112] a priest at one of the missions near San Antonio, the marauders\nventured farther than usual and were within attacking distance of\nMission San Jos\u00e9, near San Antonio, when Jos\u00e9 Navarro, commander of the\nmission, learned of their designs. Forthwith, preparations for the\ndefense of the mission were begun, Don Hesu Navarro, a recent arrival\nfrom Spain and a bold soldier of fortune, aiding enthusiastically in\nstrengthening the defenses.\n\nNow, within the mission lived the Indian chief Tehuan and his beautiful\ndaughter, christened Rosa by the good fathers of the mission. The\ndashing young Spaniard fell desperately in love with the pretty\ndark-skinned maid, and succeeded in winning her love in return. Soon,\nthough, came a desperate separation. In the attack by the Comanches\nthat had been expected, Don Hesu fell by an Indian tomahawk and pretty\nRosa was carried away by the alien savages. Fortunately, however, the\nyoung Spaniard had received merely a stunning blow, and, after a time,\nrevived and dragged himself back within the mission walls, only to find\nhis beloved gone. From an Indian boy, the distracted lover learned that\nRosa was being taken away to the Enchanted Rock to be offered as a\nsacrifice to the Spirit of the Rock.\n\nRealizing the futility of a single-handed combat with the fleeing\nIndians, Don Hesu hastened to Goliad for aid, and, together with a\ndaring band of Spaniards and Texas colonists, started in pursuit of the\nComanches. Upon discovering the camping place of the savages, the\nimpetuous Spaniard proposed an immediate attack; but the remainder of\nthe party, who were better versed in Indian ways and beliefs, persuaded\nDon Hesu that a better way would be to play upon the superstitious\nbeliefs of the savages. Accordingly, the party secretly harassed the\nIndians by stampeding their horses and assaulting their guards in the\ndark. And the red men, believing that the spirits were incensed by the\nrecent attack upon the mission, mounted their mustangs, and, with the\ncaptive maid safe in their midst, galloped away to the hills, where\nthey intended to offer to the Spirit of the Enchanted Rock the fair\nprize they had won at San Jos\u00e9.\n\nThe pursuers followed as best they might. However, when they reached\nthe gulch between the Enchanted Rock and a neighboring peak, they saw,\nto their horror, that the beautiful captive was already bound to the\nstake, the faggots piled high around her. The rescue party was divided\ninto two sections, one section skirting the peak so as to surprise the\nIndians encamped on the north while Don Hesu and a few chosen men\nrushed upon the guards who stood in the gulch. Frenzied by the sight of\nhis beloved at the stake ready to be offered as a sacrifice, Don Hesu,\nfighting like a demon, succeeded in freeing the captive maid and\nescaping with her beyond the reach of the savages. Thus was the Spirit\nof the Enchanted Rock once, at least, deprived of the joy of a human\nsacrifice.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFRANCESCA: A LEGEND OF OLD FORT STOCKTON\n\nBy L. W. Payne, Jr.\n\n\nThis legend of old Fort Stockton was written for me in short-story form\nin 1911 by Miss Josephine Brown, on whose father\u2019s ranch in Brewster\nCounty are the ruins of the old fort. The legend is frequently related\nby ranch people as well as by Mexicans in West Texas.\n\nFran\u2014\u2014ces\u2014\u2014ca! Fran\u2014\u2014ces\u2014\u2014ca!\n\nI straightened up, listening. The low wailing sound that seemed to\npronounce a name came again.\n\n\u201cJuan, what makes that noise?\u201d Juan did not answer, and I turned in the\nseat to look at him. He was terrified. His eyes were stretched wide\nopen, and he gasped out something about praying to the Virgin.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, Juan? Tell me!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, se\u00f1or, that noise! The Virgin protect us!\u201d he exclaimed. He began\nwhipping the horses.\n\n\u201cJuan, stop! The road is rough. Be careful. There, give me the reins.\u201d\n\nHe began saying his prayers, and I could occasionally distinguish the\nword \u201cespiritus.\u201d\n\nI was very curious to know why he was so excited, but I thought I would\nwait until he calmed down a little before I asked him. Finally he\nbecame more calm, and I handed him the reins.\n\nIt was a cold, rainy night in the late fall. The big, piled-up\nmountains, at one side of the road, were barely visible through the\nrain. The creek, which ran on the other side, made a subdued, rustling\nsound. I could scarcely distinguish the road, and knew when we went up\nor down a hill only by the movement of the vehicle. We ran over a rock\nin the road, and the jolt seemed to loosen Juan\u2019s tongue.\n\n\u201cYou saw those big piles of rocks back there, se\u00f1or? They are all\nthat\u2019s left of old Fort Stockton. Long time ago, in Indian times, there\nwere a lot of soldiers here, and they lived in those houses. I\u2019ve heard\nthe padre tell tales of them. That one with the walls still standing is\nwhat was the church, and that\u2019s where Ferenor\u201d\u2014here he interrupted\nhimself to say some prayers.\n\n\u201cWell, Juan?\u201d I said encouragingly.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s where Ferenor calls for his sweetheart,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d I asked, as he seemed loath to continue.\n\n\u201cGet up, Maria! Steady there, Pierto. You see, se\u00f1or, she was the most\nbeautiful girl in all the country. Many young men wanted to marry her,\nbut she loved Ferenor, the padre\u2019s nephew, who was almost a padre\nhimself, for he had taken some of the vows. His uncle preached to the\nsoldiers and lived there behind the church. There were lots of Indians\nin those times, and one of the chiefs wanted Francesca for his wife.\nAll this time Francesca was in love with Ferenor, but she couldn\u2019t\nmarry him on account of his vows.\n\n\u201cBut one day Ferenor got desperate and swore he would marry Francesca\nanyway. That night, about this time of the year\u2014and a night like this,\nonly worse\u2014they went to the padre to be married. Of course, he would\nnot marry them, for it is unlawful for a young priest to marry. They\nbegged and implored, but the padre refused to comply with their wishes.\nFinally the padre became very angry, and opening the door, he commanded\nthem to go. Somehow, in the storm, they missed the trail to Francesca\u2019s\nhouse, and after wandering around a while, they realized that they were\nlost. On and on they wandered, until Francesca was ready to drop with\nfatigue.\n\n\u201cSuddenly Ferenor exclaimed, \u2018A light, Francesca!\u2019 There was a light in\nthe distance. They started toward it but Francesca dropped to the\nground exhausted.\n\n\u201c\u2018I can\u2019t go, Ferenor,\u2019 she sobbed.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019m too tired to carry you that far, Francesca. You stay here, and\nI\u2019ll come back for you when I get help.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe started out toward the light, but walking brought him no nearer to\nit. It seemed to move and lead him astray. He was very cold and sleepy.\nAnd where was Francesca? He knew; right over there she was waiting. He\nstarted to the place where he thought he had left her. Suddenly he\nslipped and fell, hitting his head on a stone. It was several hours\nlater, just about dawn, that he regained consciousness.\n\n\u201c\u2018Francesca! Francesca!\u2019 he cried, starting up. Vainly he searched. She\nwas gone. Neither of the lovers was ever seen after that. Several\nmonths later a rumor was heard that just such a girl as Francesca was\nin the camp of Red Blanket. And Ferenor? On such a night as this, at\nthis time of the year, he wanders around the old Fort, searching for\nhis sweetheart, and always calling her name, \u2018Francesca, Francesca.\u2019\nAnd se\u00f1or, when a lover hears it, it means there is danger to him or\nhis betrothed. Santa Madre preserve us!\u201d Here Juan began saying his\nprayers again.\n\n\u201cWhat is that light, Juan?\u201d I asked a few minutes later.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the headquarters of the H-Triangle, se\u00f1or,\u201d he said.\n\nA good fire and jolly company did not altogether dispel the memory of\nthe weird tale that Juan told me when we heard those strange sounds\nmade by the wind in the ruins of the old Fort.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOVER\u2019S RETREAT AND LOVERS\u2019 RETREAT (PALO PINTO)\n\nBy J. S. Spratt\n\n\nI\n\nLover\u2019s Retreat, or Lovers\u2019 Retreat, as some would have it, is in Palo\nPinto County, four miles west of the town of Palo Pinto. I got the\nfirst version, in which Lover makes his escape, from my father, Dr. J.\nT. Spratt. He heard it from a man named W. H. Walker, who related it in\nan address delivered while he was state secretary of the I. O. O. F.\nWalker said that the escape was made in the neighborhood of 1870 and\nthat he was lying out on the prairie near by on the night that Lover\neluded the Indians.\n\nThe other version I remember from a paper read in an English class in\nthe Palo Pinto High School. I do not remember who wrote it, but I\nremember that we had a discussion over the place at the time, and that\nwhen I gave my version as to how Lover\u2019s Retreat had got its name, none\nof the class had ever heard it, though most of them had heard the tale\nof the Indian lovers.\n\n\n\nII\n\nLOVER\u2019S RETREAT\n\nBy 1870 the Indians had for the most part abandoned all that part of\nTexas east of the Colorado River. However, a few scattered bands still,\non occasions, roamed over the territory east of the river, plundering\nlonely settlements and, when an opportunity presented itself, killing\nthe pioneers. There is a story connected with one of these Indian raids\ninto what is now Palo Pinto County.\n\nSome four miles west of the town of Palo Pinto is a rough and beautiful\nground covered with immense boulders. The enormous rocks have been left\nin an arrangement that reminds one of the streets of a badly surveyed\nold town. Vegetation of all colors and sizes grows on top of the old\nrocks and hangs down over the edges. Occasionally a tree rooted in some\ndeep crevice reaches up thirty or forty feet, brushing the tops of the\nrocks. One has but to start climbing over the roots and gulches and\nthrough the breaks to think of what a good place it is to hide in. More\nthan one man has found it to be such a place.\n\nIn the early seventies a man by the name of Lover was camped on a\nprairie near the place, loose herding a bunch of cattle. He had taken\nthe bridle off his horse and was letting him graze out a short distance\nwith the saddle on, when along late in the afternoon he was suddenly\naware that the horse had stopped chewing and was watching something.\nLover looked in the direction towards which the horse was pointing his\nears. Just beyond the rigid animal, he saw a band of Indians coming at\na long gallop through the soft grass. They were so close and were so\nincreasing their speed that he did not have time to catch his horse.\nThere was but one thing for him to do. He made for the rocks.\n\nRunning with the superhuman speed of deathly fright, he managed to\nreach them a little ahead of the Indians; but the Indians were so near\nthat they would be upon him before he could climb down the side of the\nboulder that he had run up on from the sloping side. If he jumped, he\nwas likely to kill or cripple himself. For the fraction of a second he\nwavered. Then he saw a tree below him. He leaped, caught a branch, and\nslid and swung to the ground. When less than two minutes later the\nwarriors peered over the edge of the cliff, he was not to be seen.\n\nIn the little time that remained till night, Lover managed to dodge\nthem. Then for hours he knew that they were watching for him to move.\nBut when morning came, probably thinking that he had somehow slipped\nout past them, the Indians left, and Lover was safe. Since that time\nthe place has been known as Lover\u2019s Retreat.\n\nThe old tree that Lover is said to have slid down still stands,\nalthough it has been dead for several years and has fallen over against\nthe bluff from which Lover made his desperate leap.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nLOVERS\u2019 RETREAT\n\nMany years ago, in the northern part of Texas, lived a small band of\nIndians among whom were a young brave and a young maiden lost in love.\nFor the sake of convenience, we shall call the young brave Running Elk\nand the maiden Laughing Water. She was the daughter of old Chief White\nEagle, but in the veins of the warrior lover there was no royal blood,\nand the father refused to allow the marriage that both of the lovers so\ngreatly desired.\n\nThe refusal was not, however, based primarily on the difference in\nrank. Running Elk was an ideal young brave. He was the best hunter in\nthe band; no other could run so swiftly, ride so skilfully, or shoot an\narrow so truly as he. His bravery had been tried more than one time. In\na battle he had once, single handed, fought and killed six of the\nenemy. Many a chieftain would have been proud to claim such a warrior\nfor son-in-law. Indeed, Chief White Eagle was pleased with the suitor,\nbut his tribe was a weak tribe and he wanted his daughter to marry into\na strong tribe. Such an alliance he regarded as necessary against\npowerful enemies.\n\nAfter many pleadings with the old chief and as many refusals, the\nlovers saw that there were but two courses left to them. They could\ngive up all hope of marriage and let the negotiations that were already\nunder way for the marriage of Laughing Water into a powerful tribe\nproceed; or they could run away and seek united refuge in a strange\ntribe. They chose the latter course.\n\nIt was dark midnight when Laughing Water met Running Elk at the\noutskirts of the Indian village. He had two ponies ready, and the\nlovers were on their way immediately. They rode during the remainder of\nthe night and almost all the following day. Late in the afternoon they\nsaw a cloud of moving dust rising perhaps an hour\u2019s ride behind them.\nThe pursuers were gaining ground rapidly.\n\nThe runaways were now in the edge of a strange, mountainous country.\nTheir horses were tired and farther journey on them meant capture, then\ntorture. Running Elk called a halt, and when the girl had dismounted,\nhe tied a thorny stick to the tail of each horse, gave the horses a\nslash with the thong of buffalo hide that he used for a bridle, and saw\nthem disappear down a draw. Then he and the maiden set out on foot,\nselecting rocks and hard gravel for a path. Their tribesmen would be\nbaffled by the trail for a little time at least.\n\nAfter the couple had traveled in this way for what seemed to them a\nlong while, they reached the top of a mountain covered with cedar,\nwalnut, and scrub oak. All at once they came upon a wide crevice. They\nturned their direction and were as suddenly confronted by another\ncrevice, narrow and forty or fifty feet deep. This they descended,\ntaking care not to loosen rocks or earth.\n\nThe two Indians were surprised to find that this break led to a network\nof such passages, the widths of which varied from a foot to twenty or\nthirty feet. The walls were of solid rock and rose to a height of from\nforty to sixty feet. On the tops of these rocks had formed a soil that\nsustained a variety of vegetation. A greenish moss covered the sides of\nthe rocks and against them clung straggling vines; from the tops and\nfrom niches along the sides, prickly pears hung; here and there a tree\ngrew up out of the bottom of the fissures and swept its branches over\nthe tops of the cliffs. A cold spring trickled from the bottom of one\nof the rock walls.\n\nThe lovers knew that there must be a cave somewhere amid such\nsurroundings. They began to search for it, and had searched only a\nlittle while when they came to a small mountain lake. It was at a kind\nof gateway between mountain and plateau, and on the mountain side was\nthe cave. It opened into the lake, its floor well above the level of\nthe water, and extended back into the enormous boulder.\n\nRunning Elk swam to the mouth of the cave and climbed in, and with his\nsenses as alert as those of the panther explored the darkness. He found\nthat the recess ran back some twenty feet and that it was clear of\nharm. He swam back to the shore, got his beloved, and returned to the\ncave. The two had not been hidden ten minutes when they heard their\ntribesmen making camp by the water. Presently a few of the young bucks\nwent into the lake for a swim. One of them discovered the mouth of the\ncave and called to his companions. They all came to him and began to\ntalk of exploring the place.\n\nHuddled close to each other in the remotest part of the cave, the\nlovers waited. Though they were themselves in pitchy darkness, they\ncould see the world outside; however, dusk was approaching. Then they\nsaw one of the bucks raise his body into the edge of the cave. He\npaused, fixed himself, and reached down to give a hand to a companion.\nJust then the lovers heard a wild shouting. They recognized the voice\nof their Medicine Man. He was screaming to the braves to come away from\nthe cave, and telling them that all caves with their openings in or\njust above water were inhabited by evil spirits. The braves left the\ncave with frenzied strokes and soon the silence told that all the\nIndians had deserted the region of the lake. Again the lovers breathed\nfreely.\n\nBut they would not leave their refuge until they were sure of safety.\nAll that night, all the next day, and all the next night, they remained\nin hiding. Then they left in search of a friendly tribe to take up\nwith, and the story generally goes that they found hospitality and\nsecurity.\n\nThe white man has changed the looks about the picturesque region where\nthe couple wandered and hid; but the cave and lake where they evaded\ntheir pursuers bears in memory of them the name of Lovers\u2019 Retreat.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOVER\u2019S LEAP IN KIMBLE COUNTY\n\nBy Flora Eckert\n\n\n[This legend, like others of its kind, is on all sides asserted to have\ncome down from the earliest pioneers. When, less than a century ago,\nsettlers first moved into any part of Texas where there is a cliff,\nwhat was their initial act: to get a meal, to start out hunting for\nburied treasure, or to christen the cliff with a tale of lovers? At any\nrate, thirty years ago, in 1894, Mary J. Jaques, an English lady who\nhad resided for a time on a ranch in the Llano country, saw in London\nthe fresh pages of her book, Texan Ranch Life; and in that book on page\n255 is a version of the legend of Lover\u2019s Leap in Kimble County:\n\n\n    \u201cThe lover of Leona, a beautiful Indian girl, having been sent on a\n    distant raid, she promised to light a beacon fire on the cliff each\n    night of his absence. But alas! weeks grew to months, but he didn\u2019t\n    return, and the old chief, her father, ordered her to marry\n    \u2018another.\u2019 In despair one night Leona threw herself down the\n    precipice, ever after known as \u2018Lover\u2019s Leap.\u2019 The gorge below is\n    still haunted by her restless spirit.\u201d\n\n\nSlightly different in detail is a version that was given to me in the\nsummer of 1923 by Miss Grenade Farmer of Junction City, in Kimble\nCounty, a form of the legend from the same source having been written\nout by Miss Velma Crank. Miss Farmer\u2019s father was a pioneer settler on\nthe upper Llano and he has often told this legend to her, Miss Farmer\nsays.\n\nAbout seventy years ago there was an Indian village at the base of the\nbluff now called Lover\u2019s Leap. The chief had a brave and handsome son;\nhe fell in love with a maiden of his tribe \u201cwho was beautiful and good\nbut who was not his equal in rank or fortune.\u201d The father forbade the\nmarriage desired by the lovers. In the obedient way of Indian youth,\nthe son obeyed his father, but he continued to meet his love in secret,\nalways under the bluff. In some way the unchanging nature of that great\npile of rocks seemed to have an influence on the souls of the lovers.\nThey, like it, would be unchanging in their devotion. So, when one day\nthe youth received an order from his father that he must marry in order\nto perpetuate the noble line, he resolved with his sweetheart to\npreserve their fidelity by death.\n\nThey climbed the cliff and cast themselves into the gorge below. A few\ndays later their bodies were found and were buried on top of the\nbluff.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nThe cliff called \u201cLover\u2019s Leap\u201d by the inhabitants of the Llano Valley\nstands today a rock-bound sentinel and watchtower, even as it stood\nduring the legendary times of Texas. At its foot flows the cool,\nsparkling mountain stream that joins the Llano only a short distance\nbeyond. Its sheer face forms a perpendicular wall that is one of the\nleast accessible in a land of inaccessible cliffs.\n\nLegends concerning the days of the Indians cluster about this sentinel\nrock. They are still told by pioneers to their children and are often\nrelated to the summer tourists of Junction, the little town that lies\nalmost within the shadow of Lover\u2019s Leap. Perhaps the most beautiful\nand plausible of these legends is the one that tells of the Indian\nmaid, Winona, and her lover, Mewanee, both of the Comanche tribe.\n\nIn those days there was an Indian encampment at the foot of this cliff.\nNo other situation for miles about was so well adapted to the needs of\nthe tribe. Fish teemed in the clear stream; deer and other game roamed\nin the woods; the climate was mild at nearly all times of the year, and\nin winter the camp was protected from the fierce norther by the sheer\nwall behind it. It was mainly because of this shelter that the place\nhad been chosen by the scouts of the party; but they had also another\nreason. This particular cliff reared its head higher than any of its\nsister cliffs along the river and therefore afforded a more distinct\nview of the surrounding country. In fact, it was the veritable sentinel\nof the valley. And such a watchtower was then a prime necessity.\n\nThe quiet beauty of the inclosing hills and the calmness of the deep\npools of the stream were not reflected in the hearts of the Indians,\nwho had, indeed, much cause for disquiet. Forty miles to the north the\nhated Spaniards had reared a hastily-built wooden structure to serve as\na mission, and had filled it with soldiers and priests. This mission\nand all those connected with it were bitterly hated by the remnants of\nthe tribes of Comanches, Cheyennes, Apaches, and Arapahoes. The priests\nendeavored to dissuade them from their age-old religion and to force\nnew beliefs and institutions upon them. The soldiers, in jest and in\nearnest, treated them with brutal cruelty. [113]\n\nThe band of Comanches in the Llano Valley had special reason to\ndistrust and hate the Spaniards at Menard, for Don Juan, one of the\nboldest of the soldiers there, had looked upon Winona, the fairest\nmaiden of the Comanches, with lust and desire in his eyes. This evil\nlook had not escaped the eye of the chief, White Cloud, whose daughter\nWinona was, nor of Mewanee, Winona\u2019s favored lover. Therefore, the\ndeparture of the tribe from the mission had been abrupt. A double vow\nof vengeance was solemnly sworn as the councilmen gathered about the\ncouncil fire in the chief\u2019s tent there on the Llano. It was a vow to\nrevenge the insult upon Winona and to destroy the mission which menaced\nthe peace of the red men.\n\nMany councils were held and the plans were carefully laid. The date of\nthe attack was chosen in accordance with the Indian belief in time and\nseason. Mewanee, as one of the most stalwart warriors, held an honored\nplace in these councils. Meanwhile, high upon the cliff, the scouts\nkept a steady watch for the Spanish, who were believed to be on the\ntrail of the rebellious Comanches.\n\nOf all the sad, heavy hearts in that camp, Winona\u2019s heart was the\nsaddest and heaviest. It was partly because of her that the attack was\nbeing planned. Furthermore, Mewanee, she knew, in the zeal of his rage\nagainst Don Juan, would be heedless of the most perilous danger.\nWinona\u2019s dark eyes plainly showed the anguish in her heart. Mewanee\u2019s\nsolemn and dignified mien reflected the gravity of the situation. The\npain of parting was heavy upon them both.\n\nTo add to their grief, White Cloud issued an order forbidding marriages\nwhile the tribe was preparing for its attack of vengeance, for the most\ncherished plan of the lovers was that they should be married on the day\npreceding Mewanee\u2019s departure. Now, however, their plans were broken.\nAll Winona\u2019s pleadings were in vain. White Cloud, her father, shook his\nhead in obstinate refusal of their marriage. At their farewell meeting,\neven Mewanee allowed his love for Winona to show as he comforted her\nand promised eternal faith. His love, he told her, would reach out to\nher from the Happy Hunting Grounds and beckon her to him. And Winona\nwhispered that she would come at his slightest call. As their lips met\nin a last, long, unaccustomed kiss, the drum signaled the inevitable\nseparation.\n\nAnd so, among the other braves, Mewanee rode away to the north to begin\nthe raid on the mission. Winona was left at camp\u2014to wait. Days passed\nwith no word of the warriors or of the result of their undertaking.\nThen suddenly, just at noon, when the watcher on the summit of the\ncliff could see farthest over the valley toward hated Menard, he gave a\nmighty shout. He could discern the returning warriors. They traveled\nswiftly, and in a short time reached the camp. Even at a distance the\nwatchers perceived that the raid from which their braves were returning\nhad been successful. Each was weighted with plunder from the soldiers\nand from the mission. But their faces and their scanty number gave the\nlie to all these signs of success. It was at once evident that fewer\nmen, by far, were returning than had gone out. Winona\u2019s quick eye gave\nher instant proof that her lover had not returned.\n\nHis companions told her of his death at the hands of a Spanish soldier\nwho had stabbed him in the back while he was engaged in a violent\nhand-to-hand combat with his enemy, Don Juan. Winona heard the story as\nin a dream. More real to her was a spirit voice calling, calling\ninsistently.\n\nWhen the moon rose over the cliff that night it outlined a solitary\nfigure upon the bluff. Only for an instant, however, did the silhouette\nremain stationary. With a gesture of grief and longing, the figure\nflung out its arms and dropped over the edge into the vast darkness\nbelow. The water flowed on, lapping against the rocks upon which Winona\nlay, broken and lifeless. Her soul had answered the call from the Happy\nHunting Grounds. And to this day the cliff, called \u201cLover\u2019s Leap\u201d\nbecause of this wild plunge, stands as an everlasting monument to the\nexceeding love and faith of the simple Indian maiden.\n\nSome facts relative to the legend follow. 1. The headwaters of the\nLlano River were once a refuge for Indians. 2. There was a mission near\nMenard. It was destroyed by Indians. 3. Evidences of the camp at the\nfoot of the cliff are plain. 4. In tribal emergencies marriage was\nsometimes (perhaps rarely) forbidden. I realize that there are slight\ngrounds for such a statement, but it is a part of the legend as given\nby my informants. 5. The legend is given as told me by Frank H. Wilson\nand N. R. Skaggs (about seventy-five years old) of Junction.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WAITING WOMAN\n\nBy John R. Craddock\n\n\nThis legend, though it cannot be said to be retold in his exact words,\ncame to me from a wood-cutter named T. W. Williams, who while hauling\nwood about the streets of Austin had time enough to stop and talk.\n\nOut in the hills of Williamson County, a certain old path can still be\nfound leading down to the San Gabriel River. If you follow the ancient\npath from the west bank of the Gabriel for a distance of some two\nhundred yards, you will find there on the hill the remains of the old\nLazy J ranch house. If you follow the path from the east bank, you will\nsoon come to its end among the rock-strewn hills. Years ago a foot-log\nconnected the parts of the path, and at it in days now long past a man\nand a beautiful young woman were accustomed to meet. The girl came from\nthe ranch house on the hill, and the man, a cowboy, came from somewhere\nout beyond the trail\u2019s end, no one now knows where.\n\nA little before sunset one evening, the girl walked down to the\ncrossing to meet her lover. A few minutes later the cowboy sprang from\nhis horse on the opposite bank, and, scarcely waiting to tie his mount,\nstarted across the foot-log. The ride had been long, and the man was\nunsteady on his feet after being for such a long while in the saddle.\nHe wore heavy leggins and Mexican spurs, and in his haste he lost his\nfooting on the log and fell into the river. He was never again seen.\n\nThe sight of the tragedy and the loss of her lover caused the maiden to\nbecome, as people believed, insane. Every evening at sunset throughout\nthe remaining days of her life, she went to the foot-log to meet a\nphantom lover who came, as in life, to meet her. Her dying request was\nthat if she lived until sunset, she should be carried to the bank of\nthe stream. This request was complied with, and her attendants, on\nreaching the spot, witnessed a strange and pathetic ritual. The dying\nwoman raised herself on her elbow and spoke a few words to the\ninvisible lover, and then fell back lifeless on the stretcher. They\nburied her there by the foot-path, and the good folk will tell you yet\nthat at dusk you can hear the lovers as they whisper by the path, or\nthat sometimes in the coming shadows you can see the phantom woman\ndrooped and waiting at the place where the foot-log used to be. [114]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOVER\u2019S LEAP AT SANTA ANNA [115]\n\nBy Austin Callan\n\n\nTradition tells us that long ago an Indian village nestled at the foot\nof \u201cSantana Peaks,\u201d called Las Mesas. It was before the white man\u2019s\nambition for new territory led him into the wild haunts of the savage;\nbefore Anglo-Saxon enterprise transformed the West from a wilderness of\nromance to a vulgar land of farms and ranches. Herds of buffaloes and\ndeer roamed the prairies; wild turkeys, geese and game birds were as\nplentiful as the leaves on the trees; and the people were happy and\nindolent.\n\nAmong the inhabitants was Fox-Deer, who had taken unto himself a\npale-face for a wife. He had an only daughter, called Lentalopa,\nLaughing-Eye, and he loved her poor, heart-broken mother, whose soul he\ngave to the Great Spirit in the forest, and whose body was laid to rest\namong the flowers on the \u201cLittle Table.\u201d\n\nOne evil day a band of white men, with a great train of wagons and an\nIndian guide, passed through the gap of Las Mesas and were soon in view\nof the little village. Immediately the war-whoop rent the air. The\nsoldiers and teamsters barely had time to corral their wagons and\nprepare for battle before the fierce red devils were circling round and\nround them, leaning low on their horses and gradually drawing in. The\nlieutenant gave orders not to fire until the enemy came near enough to\nthe wagons to make every shot count a dead savage.\n\nEach man stood in place, sighting down his musket, waiting breathlessly\nfor the order. Fox-Deer, clad in a buckskin suit ornamented with\nsilver, turned his horse towards the wagon corral and gave a signal. In\nan instant every warrior was charging the temporary barricade, all\nhowling like a pack of fiends in hell. Then, from behind the wagons,\nthere came a hundred puffs of smoke, and a hundred Indians fell\nlifeless on the sward.\n\nFox-Deer led his redskins back to the base of Las Mesas; the soldiers\nreloaded their muskets and made ready for a second attack. In the\nmeantime several of the men reported to the lieutenant that the savages\nhad a beautiful white girl in captivity....  The lieutenant immediately\nsent two men under a flag of truce to the Indians, with the information\nthat he would withdraw and leave them alone if they would surrender the\nwhite prisoner into his hands.\n\nThe answer came back, as quick as a flash of lightning, from the ashy\nlips of Wounded Hawk. He said that Laughing-Eye belonged not to the\npale-faces, that he had won her heart for bravery in fighting the\nbattles of Fox-Deer. \u201cWe love each other,\u201d he said in tones of pathos\nto the Indian guide, who acted as interpreter; \u201cwe have asked the\nbeautiful moon to melt our hearts into one, and its spirit came down\nand danced for joy on the bosom of the silvery stream, because we were\nhappy. Go away and leave us alone, leave Laughing-Eye among the flowers\nand the birds, close to her mother\u2019s grave.\u201d\n\nThe men returned and reported the effort to compromise with the Indians\nunsuccessful. Wounded Hawk\u2019s story was put down as one of those slick\nlies characteristic of his race, and it was decided to attack the\nvillage at once and finish the job of whipping the devils, who had been\nrendered inferior by their first charge. As the soldiers drew up near\nthe wigwams, the golden sun was hanging over the western point of the\nmountain. A beautiful valley swept off for miles to the north, and in\nthe green grass droves of antelopes and deer were playing. Around the\nwigwams several squaws were seated upon buffalo robes and among them\nwas Laughing-Eye, downcast and frightened.\n\nFox-Deer asked for permission to send his child to a cliff on the\nmountain where she could watch the battle without danger. \u201cIf the Great\nSpirit decides against the poor Indian,\u201d he said, \u201cthe white man can\ntake her, but if He answers her prayer, she will remain in the forest\nwith Wounded Hawk and be happy.\u201d\n\nLaughing-Eye gave the signal for battle by waving a branch of cedar\nfrom the brow of Las Mesas, and a savage yell went up, as fierce as\nmortal ever heard. Fox-Deer led his warriors forth, playing for two of\nthe highest earthly stakes\u2014the happiness of his daughter and his own\nlife. In an instant the whites were surrounded. The Indians, riding at\nfull speed and lying low on the off-side of their ponies, poured volley\nafter volley of deadly arrows into their dismayed ranks. The lieutenant\nfell mortally wounded; a dozen others were dead upon the ground. Closer\nand closer the savages came and more hideous grew their war-whoops.\nLaughing-Eye knelt upon the cliff to pray; no doubt she had learned to\nlisp the name of God at her mother\u2019s knee, and I fancy she asked Him to\nrestore safe to her bosom the young chief she loved. But the tide of\nbattle turned, turned at a moment when Wounded Hawk felt the flush of\nvictory and was almost ready to wave his love back to the joy of the\nwigwam.\n\nThe surviving soldiers formed a little square, dropped to their knees,\nand prepared to receive the last desperate charge of the savages.\nFox-Deer brought his men up, this time in silence. Pointing to the girl\non the brow of the peak and giving a signal which they all understood,\nhe led a mad rush. A deadly stream of fire poured forth from the little\ngroup of determined whites, and then they sprang to their feet with\nbayonets fixed. For a moment the fate of Wounded Hawk hung in the\nbalance. The struggle was as fierce as opposing forces ever waged.\nIndian and Caucasian fell together, with the cold steel in each other\u2019s\nbreasts, and their mingled blood crimsoned the grass-spears and the\ndaisies. There was a hush; a little flag bearing the Stars and Stripes\nshot up just as the sun was setting. From the overhanging cliff a\nscream of agony rent the air. Laughing-Eye understood and leaped upon\nthe rocks below, into the arms of death.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nANTONETTE\u2019S LEAP\nOR\nTHE LEGEND OF MOUNT BONNELL\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nI\n\nThe legend of Mount Bonnell is among the half dozen most widely known\nTexas legends. It has been printed again and again, both in prose and\nin verse; it is still told in many quarters; and the details of the\nvarious versions have come to a wide divergence. So far as I can learn,\nthe oldest printed account of the legend is that given by Morphis,\npublished in 1874. For other accounts, the reader is referred to the\nbibliography.\n\nIn the main, there are three versions of the legend: first, the Morphis\naccount in which an Indian chief steals a Spanish belle, who is rescued\nby her lover only to perish later with him at the cliff; second, a\nversion, the details of which are similar to those of various other\nLovers\u2019 Leap legends, in which an Indian maid and an Indian brave make\nan interdicted elopement and are finally forced to the leap; third, a\nversion in which an Indian maiden in love with a white man is forced to\na precipitate death. It is an interesting fact that all the versions\nhitherto printed follow very closely the Morphis story, all being\nrevampings of it. Noteworthy variations seem to exist in oral accounts\nonly. As Morphis\u2019 history has long been out of print, his version of\nthe legend is here reprinted.\n\nThe word Antonette belongs to no language: the French spelling is\nAntoinette; the name in Spanish is Antonia. No lady of pure Castilian\nblood would have borrowed a French translation for her name. Yet\nAntonette is the spelling generally given in the legends.\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE LEGEND AS TOLD BY MORPHIS [116]\n\nThe following legend of the Colorado Valley was related to me years ago\nby that reliable gentleman, good citizen, and gallant soldier, George\nL. Robertson of Austin.\n\n\nMount Bonnell was called by the early settlers of Colorado Valley,\nAntonette\u2019s Leap, which name was given to it in consequence of the\nself-immolation on that picturesque spot, at an early day, of a most\nlovely and accomplished se\u00f1orita, who came over from Spain at the first\nsettlement of the mission of San Jos\u00e9, San Juan, Espada, and the Alamo.\n\n\u201cThe fame of Antonette\u2019s beauty and intellectual charms was spread\nabroad through the settlements, and even extended to the hunting ground\nand camp fires of the red men of the forest. It came to the ears and\ninflamed the passions of Cibolo, the chief of the Comanches, who\nselected a band of his favorite warriors, made a raid upon the\nsettlements, captured the beautiful Antonette, and carried her far away\nto his camp in the wilderness, on the headwaters of the Colorado.\n\n\u201cThe parents and friends of the unfortunate se\u00f1orita mourned her as\nlost forever, except Don Leal Navarro Rodriguez, her betrothed lover, a\nbrave and elegantly educated young Spanish caballero, of fine personal\nappearance and honorable, as well as brave to a fault, who determined\nto follow the murderous Indians to their homes and rescue his beloved\nAntonette, or perish in the attempt.\n\n\u201cDon Leal mounted his favorite steed and, well armed, started from the\nAlamo alone in pursuit of the Indians, and after many hair-breadth\nescapes, undiscovered, descried the camp of the savages. Selecting a\ndark night, he entered it, and by imitating the mocking bird, of which\nAntonette was very fond, and whose singing they could both imitate to\nperfection, he soon discovered at what spot inside the encampment she\nwas, then came into the very tent which she occupied and found her tied\nsecurely to prevent her escape.\n\n\u201cIn an instant the lover severed the bonds which confined the dear idol\nof his heart, and with her cautiously returned to where he had left his\nhorse when he entered the Comanche camp; then quickly mounting and\ntaking Antonette up behind him, he started to regain the Mission of\nAlamo.\n\n\u201cThe fury of Cibolo in the morning, when he discovered the escape of\nhis fascinating captive, knew no bounds. He raved and blasphemed\nterribly; then, sounding the alarm, with a hundred chosen warriors, he\nhastily started in pursuit, leaving the main body of his tribe to await\nhis return.\n\n\u201cFor several days Don Leal and his beloved Antonette made good speed\ntoward the settlements, subsisting most bountifully upon game, which\nwas easily obtained through Don Leal\u2019s rifle, and at night sleeping\nunder the forest trees; but on the seventh day, leaving the prairie\nland, they became tangled in the mountains bordering the Colorado.\nEarly in the morning of the eighth day the lovers discovered themselves\nsurrounded upon all sides by the cruel savages. All attempts at further\nflight were hopeless.\n\n\u201cThe wrathful Cibolo, with cow horns on his head and face horribly\npainted, advanced in all pride of power to where they had fled as a\nlast refuge, but when he was about fifty yards off, Don Leal, who had\nfirmly resolved to fight and die rather than surrender, raised his\nrifle to his shoulder and, taking deliberate aim, fired! In an instant\nthe savage chief bounded in the air and fell to the ground a corpse;\nbut in another instant at least twenty arrows pierced Don Leal\u2019s body,\nand he, too, fell to the earth and expired without a groan.\n\n\u201cAfter surveying the situation and revolving in her mind the miserable\nfate awaiting her from the merciless Comanches, ... the poor,\nunfortunate girl bent over the prostrate and lifeless form of her lover\nand kissed his dear lips. Then rising, with her eyes toward heaven, and\nmurmuring her last prayer to God, she plunged headlong down the\nprecipice and struck the rocks beneath, mangled, bleeding, and dead!\n\n\u201cFor a long time the place where these rare, devoted, but most\nunfortunate lovers met their sad and untimely fate was called\n\u2018Antonette\u2019s Leap,\u2019 but years ago a wandering Bohemian, who happened to\npass a few days in Austin ... blotted it out and substituted his own,\nand now Antonette\u2019s Leap is Mount Bonnell.\u201d\n\n\n\nIII\n\nFor the details of the second version of the legend as here summarized\nI am indebted to Mr. Billy Minter, a West Point cadet from Austin.\n\n\nOnce two tribes of Indians living far to the north were at deadly\nenmity with one another; one tribe lived in what is now Oklahoma, the\nother in what is now the Panhandle of Texas. One day the son of the\nchieftain of the southern tribe was walking in the woods. It was\nspringtime, the time to be in the woods, and there he met the daughter\nof the chief of the northern tribe. It was springtime; their hatred was\nforgotten, and often thereafter they met under the trees. But one day a\nbrave of the northern tribe discovered the lovers. He was afraid to\nfight with this strong young Indian of the south whose fame as a\nwarrior was already far known; so he watched from the bushes and then\nslipped away to tell the maiden\u2019s father what he had seen.\n\nWhen the lovers were parting, they discovered the trail of the watcher.\nThey realized that they could never meet thus again and that if the\nmaid returned to her people she would be terribly tortured. They fled\nto the south, hoping to find refuge in some friendly tribe that knew\nnothing of the quarrels of their ancestors. The next morning the father\nof the maiden sent to the enemy\u2019s camp a demand for his daughter. Then\nthe elopement was revealed. A truce was made and forthwith fifty picked\ntrailers and warriors from each tribe were sent to pursue and capture\nthe fugitives.\n\nFor many days the lovers fled, followed closer and closer by the\nwarriors. At length they found themselves hemmed in on top of a\nmountain that faced precipitously on the Colorado River. Out of the\nscrub cedars and from over the gullies, they saw the cordon of pitiless\npursuers nearing; beneath them they saw the swollen waters of the\nColorado whirling over the rocks. On the one hand, was a captivity\nworse than death; on the other, the river below. \u201cWith one last prayer\nto the Great Spirit, the lovers embraced and, still locked in this\nembrace, leaped into the hungry water.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d concludes Mr. Minter, \u201cis the legend of the Lovers\u2019 Leap as\ntold to me when I was eleven years old by an old settler, himself the\nson of a pioneer. He lived near the place, and told me the story while\nI was camped on Mount Bonnell. Last week (July, 1922) I went again to\ntry to find him and have him retell the story, but I found that he had\nbeen dead for two years, and so I have not been able to use the names\nof the lovers, of the chiefs, and of the tribes, as well as many other\nminute circumstances that he made the tale vivid with. The river does\nnot touch the foot of the cliff at the Lovers\u2019 Leap. Indeed, it is a\ngood stone\u2019s throw from it to the water\u2019s edge. The old man explained\nthis discrepancy by saying that the legend was ages old and that at the\ntime of the leap the river did touch the bottom of the cliff when it\nwas on a big rise.\u201d\n\n\n\nIV\n\nThe third version of the legend was given me by Miss Etta Maddrey, a\nstudent at the University of Texas in the summer of 1922, who in turn\nheard it from an Austin woman who worked at the Driskill Hotel. This\nwoman claimed that the witness in the circumstances that follow was one\nof her ancestors.\n\n\nA pioneer couple had built a log hut near what is now the road to Deep\nEddy. It was near a spring in some woods, and sometimes Indians camped\nnear by. In the band was the tribal chief, and he had a daughter. He\nhad, too, a hardened and cunning warrior who was in love with the\ndaughter, and the chief was pleased at the match. The daughter was not\npleased, and soon the brave came to realize that he was being repelled.\n\nOne evening when the settler\u2019s wife was going to the spring for water,\nshe saw in the dusk a tender greeting between the Indian maid and a\nyoung white man of the settlement. She saw too the form of a slinking\nIndian warrior spying on the lovers. The next evening the meeting was\nrepeated, and the man and the young woman sat on a rock and watched the\nsunset. They parted; the paleface disappeared; the girl turned to go\nback to her camp and was confronted by the giant and menacing form of\nher spurned suitor. With vivid gesture he pictured the wrath of the\nfather and chief when he should learn that his daughter had scorned one\nof his tribe for a hated paleface, and he gloated as he told how he\nwould report her treachery.\n\nThe girl broke away from her tormentor. Perhaps she thought to return\nto her father and ask forgiveness; but the folly of such a course must\nhave been apparent to her. Perhaps she thought of taking refuge with\nher lover, but then his helplessness in protecting her must have\nflooded her mind with the conviction that by such an act she would only\nbring about his death. A moment after she left the warrior she bounded\nout of the woods in a direction to the north. On and on she ran until\nshe reached the topmost point of what is now Mount Bonnell. Below her\nwas the dark river. \u201cThere was but a moment\u2019s hesitation, and then the\nfatal leap\u2014lover\u2019s leap then, certainly; and Lover\u2019s Leap today.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPIRATES AND PIRATE TREASURE IN LEGEND\n\n\nFrom SUNSET IN AUGUST: GALVESTON BEACH\n\nBy Stanley E. Babb\n\n\n[\u201cSunset in August: Galveston Beach,\u201d from which the following lines\nare taken, is one of a group of poems entitled \u201cArrows of Loveliness.\u201d\nThe group won the first prize from the Poetry Society of Texas in 1922.\nThe poems were printed in the Poetry Society\u2019s Book of the Year, 1922.\nIn addition to giving a picture of the great Texas pirate, the lines\nillustrate what a poet may do with legend.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\n    Old Jean Lafitte once paced along these sands,\n    Surveyed the misty sea for Spanish galleons\n    Sweeping up from Panama with gold\n    And precious freights\u2014and lusted for the sharp\n    High clamour of battle: rattle of pistol-shots\u2014\n    Thunder of broadsides\u2014crash of falling spars\u2014\n    Loud cries to Christ for quarter\u2014shouts of joy\u2014\n    Spurts of hot blood\u2014surrender\u2014sharp commands\u2014\n    And then the scuttling of the captured vessels:\n    The wild red laughter of the rioting flames\n    Above a littered sea ...\n\n    Old Jean Lafitte once wandered down these sands,\n    And watched the day\u2019s red death, the swirling gulls,\n    The golden doubloon of the rising moon,\n    Remembering days of splendour: mornings when\n    He buried gold ashore on Los Muertos,\n    Midnights when his little schooner \u201cPride\u201d\n    Cut past Nigger Head with all sails drawing,\n    Wild battles with great storms off Yucatan,\n    And nights with wine and girls at Porto Bello ...\n    Old Jean Lafitte once paced this beach and cried\n    From wanderlust that shook his heart, and looked\n    Up to the sky for winds and clouds, and told\n    His aves on the rosary of stars,\n    And then along the last bleak beach of life,\n    He proudly strode, and out across the sea\n    Into the white mists of oblivion ...\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLIFE AND LEGENDS OF LAFITTE THE PIRATE\n\nBy E. G. Littlejohn\n\n\n[The pirate legends of Texas are all so bound up with the name of\nLafitte that they may well be prefaced by a sketch of that remarkable\npersonage. Perhaps there is as much legend about the man as about his\ntreasure. Even his name seems to be in dispute, for, whereas he is\ngenerally known in this country as Jean Lafitte, the Nouveau Larousse\nIllustr\u00e9 Dictionnaire Encyclop\u00e9dique denominates him, the \u201ccorsaire\nfran\u00e7ais,\u201d Nicolas Lafitte. A historian can hardly write of him without\narousing controversy. Dr. J. O. Dyer, of Galveston, in a letter to the\neditor says: \u201cLafitte was no pirate, but the head of two noted\nbuccaneer or privateer camps.... He never went to sea; he was a poor\nsailor because he suffered from sea-sickness; he never was in any fight\non the sea.\u201d\u2014Editor.]\n\n\n\nI\n\nJEAN LAFITTE: MAN AND PIRATE\n\nThe European wars of the early part of the nineteenth century, the\nconsequent passage of the Embargo Act by the Congress of the United\nStates, and the act prohibiting the importation of slaves after the\nyear 1808, all conspired to bring about a great volume of clandestine\ntrade at the ports of the United States. This trade was especially\nactive along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. Here resorted the\nprivateer and the smuggler, the one to dispose of his booty, the other\nto receive it and to distribute it.\n\nThe labyrinthine waters of lower Louisiana were the smugglers\u2019\nparadise. Here they could carry on their business almost without fear\nof detection. Just prior to the War of 1812, a flourishing\nestablishment of this kind sprang up on the island of Grand Terre, some\nsixty miles west of the mouth of the Mississippi, under the management\nof the two brothers Lafitte, Jean and Pierre, former blacksmiths of New\nOrleans. At first, the brothers were mere agents and distributors for\nthe privateers who resorted to Grand Terre, but they soon got vessels\nfor themselves, and began privateering on their own account. Letters of\nmarque and reprisal were granted to them by the Republic of Cartagena,\nerstwhile a colony of Spain, and with this authority they went forth\nwith other Robin Hoods of the sea to ravage and to plunder. They soon\ngrew immensely wealthy and their business became so extensive as to\nalmost paralyze the legitimate trade of New Orleans.\n\nThe governor of Louisiana, on being appealed to by the merchants of the\ncity, issued several proclamations against \u201cpirates and smugglers,\u201d who\nwere bringing disgrace and ignominy upon the state, ordering them to\ndisperse and threatening dire punishment in case of their refusal to do\nso. When his fulminations went unheeded, he offered a reward of five\nhundred dollars for the capture of Jean Lafitte, now become the leader\nof the smugglers. Lafitte promptly responded by offering fifteen\nthousand dollars for the capture of the governor. The merchants then\nappealed to the United States government for protection, and Commodore\nPatterson was sent with a fleet to break up the Grand Terre\nestablishment. This he succeeded in doing, taking a number of prisoners\nand much valuable merchandise. The brothers Lafitte, with the greater\nnumber of their followers, fled to the woods and so escaped capture.\n\nShortly after this event, when the battle of New Orleans was impending,\nwe find Jean Lafitte, who seems to have cherished no animosity for his\nsummary ejectment from Grand Terre, informing the United States\nauthorities of the plans and movements of the British fleet, and\noffering his aid in defending the city. At first declined, the\nproffered assistance was later accepted by General Jackson, and Lafitte\nwith several of his lieutenants fought with conspicuous bravery in the\nmemorable battle of January 8, 1815. In his report of the battle,\nGeneral Jackson spoke in the highest terms of these \u201cgentlemen,\u201d and\nrecommended that they be pardoned for any offences they might have\ncommitted against the laws of the United States. This recommendation\nwas promptly acted upon by President Madison, who issued a full and\nfree pardon to Jean Lafitte and such of his men as participated in the\nbattle.\n\nWith the close of the war, Othello\u2019s occupation was gone, and Lafitte\nreturned to his old practices of privateering and smuggling. This time\nhe established his headquarters on Galveston Island, then uninhabited,\nwhere he built a fort and a town which he called Campeachy. His\nfollowers at one time numbered fully one thousand men, and these he\nruled with a rod of iron. He became very wealthy and lived in lordly\nstyle. The \u201cRed House,\u201d Lafitte\u2019s residence, so called on account of\nits color, was the scene of many princely entertainments given in honor\nof distinguished visitors. Colonel James Gaines, who was on the island\nin 1819, states that while he was there several rich prizes were\nbrought into port, and that Spanish doubloons were as \u201cplentiful as\nbiscuits.\u201d\n\nThough Lafitte claimed to make war only on Spanish commerce, he showed\nlittle squeamishness in attacking vessels of other nations when no\nSpaniard was in sight. In 1820 an American vessel was captured and\nplundered and then sunk in Matagorda Bay. This act spelled the ruin of\nCampeachy. Early the next year the United States Government dispatched\na man-of-war to break up the establishment. Lafitte went out to meet\nthe captain, conducted him to Red House, and entertained him in a\nmagnificent manner, in the meantime trying to persuade him from\nexecuting his orders. But the captain was not to be influenced by\nblandishments or money. His orders were peremptory. Lafitte must leave\nthe island. Bowing to the inevitable, Lafitte convoked his followers,\nsupplied them with money, and dismissed them from his service. Then,\nwith a chosen few, in his favorite vessel, the Pride, he sailed away\nfrom Galveston forever.\n\n\n\nII\n\nCREDENCE IN THE LAFITTE LEGEND\n\nAs Captain Kidd, according to legend, left more wealth on Long Island\nthan the vaults of Wall Street have measured, so Lafitte is reputed to\nhave secreted immense treasures on Galveston Island and the adjacent\nmainland. Early inhabitants of Galveston can tell of many a midnight\nquest for the hidden hoards of pirates; and in sundry places certain\nmounds, with accompanying depressions on one side, were but recently\npointed out as \u201cwhere they have been digging for Lafitte\u2019s treasure.\u201d\nUnlike Captain Kidd, however, Lafitte left no screeching Hannahs to\nguard his treasures. No such dog-in-the-manger spirit was his. On the\ncontrary, he seems to have desired that they should be found and put to\nsome useful service. I have an old letter purporting to reveal the\nhiding place of this treasure. It was written in the late fifties by a\nstrong-headed old lawyer, who at one time held high office in the\nRepublic of Texas, to a scientist of considerable reputation in that\nday. The letter is too long to quote, but it recounts in detail\nLafitte\u2019s attempt through a medium at a \u201csitting\u201d of spiritualists to\nreveal the whereabouts of a ship-load of concealed treasure. According\nto the lawyer, the Lafitte \u201cinfluence\u201d yearned to have the directions\ncorroborated so that the investigators might be filled with sufficient\nfaith to go after the waiting treasure.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE HORROR GUARDED TREASURE OF THE NECHES\n\nThis story, under the title of \u201cSeeking for Buried Treasure,\u201d appeared\nmany years ago in the Houston Post. It was said to have been related by\na Mr. Marion Meredith of Port Neches.\n\nSaid Mr. Meredith: \u201cIt was before the Civil War that a neighbor of mine\ngot hold of a chart from an old Mexican woman purporting to locate a\nvast treasure hidden by pirates in the marsh near the mouth of the\nNeches River.\n\n\u201cIt was said that the vessel bearing this treasure was so closely\npursued by a Spanish craft that the crew cut their cable and left their\nanchor. The man who got the chart felt so sure of finding the treasure\nthat he concluded to go alone to seek it in order that he might not\nhave to divide it. He located the spot where the vessel was reported to\nhave left her chain and found the chain there without any trouble. He\nsoon found where the treasure should be and began to dig. After he had\ndug a few feet, some unseen power seemed to seize him and he fled from\nthe place. A few days later he died without having been able to speak.\u201d\n\nMr. Meredith subsequently obtained the chart and, knowing the\ncircumstances of the former effort, he associated with a man noted for\nhis bravery, an old Texan who had roughed it for years. We will call\nthis man Clawson. After making all necessary preparations, he and\nClawson proceeded to investigate. They found the old rusty chain,\nwhence, a certain direction and distance, the chart called for a tree\nwith a heart cut in the bark. They located the tree. The heart was\nthere; then in a certain direction and at a certain distance they found\nthe spot sought for. It was located on a small island, a mere shell\nbank in the marsh. The tools of the former treasure hunter were there,\nand the hole he had dug. They began digging and soon found a human\nskeleton, which they carefully removed from the hole and laid upon the\nbank. Meredith dug till he was tired, when Clawson relieved him. He was\nresting on the edge of the hole, expecting every turn of the spade to\nuncover the treasure, when suddenly Clawson clambered from the hole,\nhis face drawn and pale. Clutching Meredith\u2019s arm, he said in a husky\nvoice, \u201cCome, for God\u2019s sake, let\u2019s get away from here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter? What have you seen?\u201d asked Meredith.\n\n\u201cI have seen hell and its horrors. Come away from here,\u201d and he pulled\nMeredith to their boat. They left so hurriedly that they forgot to take\ntheir tools. No other explanation could be got from Clawson, but he\nbegged Meredith, if he valued his life, not to dig there again. Years\nafterwards Meredith met Clawson in Beaumont and begged him to tell what\nhad frightened him. \u201cFor God\u2019s sake,\u201d he answered, \u201cdon\u2019t ask me about\nthat; it has haunted me all these years.\u201d\n\nAfter a time Meredith returned to the spot, recovered his tools, and\nburied the skeleton in the hole, but he had so much confidence in\nClawson that he could not dig again. Since then he has several times\nvisited the spot. Once a party of young men volunteered to go with him\nand dig up the ghost and the treasure. His reply to them was: \u201cI will\ntake you there and stay with you, boys, but there is not enough money\nin Texas to get me to dig in that hole.\u201d\n\n\n\nIV\n\nPIRATES AND THEIR SACKS OF GOLD\n\nThis story appeared many years ago in the Galveston Daily News as a\n\u201cspecial\u201d from Corpus Christi.\n\n\u201cOne morning far back in the receding past, just as the sun was casting\nhis first golden beams of light over the lovely prairie, then robed in\nthe sublimity of wild solitude, Lafitte and ten or fifteen of his\nbuccaneers called at the humble home of an old lady and her husband who\nthen lived on Kellar, or Cox, Creek in what is now embraced in Jackson\nCounty. Here these pirates got their breakfast and then handed the old\npeople $1000, in which sum were found coins from the then leading\ncommercial governments of the world. During their stay at this house\nthe pirates made frequent references to the hot pursuit of English or\nAmerican war vessels. After they had dispatched the morning meal, they\nshouldered what purported to be sacks of gold and departed, going\ntoward the head of Cox Creek, presumably to bury or secrete their\nill-gotten treasure. After a few hours they passed back by this house,\ngoing in the direction of Cox Bay. They were never seen or heard of\nagain by the old people who supplied them with breakfast.\u201d\n\nIn the article from which the above excerpt is made, it is stated that\nsome years ago certain respectable citizens of Corpus Christi who had\nenlisted the services of a lad with an \u201caffinity\u201d for gold made an\nextensive search for the supposed hidden treasure. The expedition was a\nfailure, but the leader was confident that somewhere between Cox Bay\nand the mouth of the Lavaca River large sums of the pirates\u2019 coins\nwould some day be found, and intimated that they would be fished out of\nSwan Lake.\n\n\n\nV\n\nLAFITTE\u2019S TREASURE VAULT\n\nLegends of Lafitte\u2019s treasure in Louisiana often come down the Texas\ncoast and become Texan by adoption. In the Abbeville country,\nLouisiana, there is a legend, handed down from the last century, to the\neffect that Lafitte and his pirate crew, having run a schooner up into\nWhite Lake (Louisiana coast) through a bayou which has long since been\nfilled and grown over with marsh grass, at some spot along the shore\nbuilt a brick vault in which they stored a vast amount of their\nill-gotten treasure.\n\nAbout the year 1908 a man named C\u2014\u2014 claimed to have stumbled upon the\nvault while hunting alligators. He further claimed to have torn away,\nthough with much difficulty, portions of the brick work, revealing\nuntold wealth in gold coin, the hidden treasure of Lafitte.\n\nNumbers of persons to whom this story was told became interested in\nmaking a search for the treasure. Owing to the swampy condition of the\ncountry and the inaccessibility of the spot where the vault was\nlocated, C\u2014\u2014 advised the digging of a small canal as the best means of\nreaching it. This idea was adopted, money was advanced for the purpose,\nsome five or six thousand dollars, and the digging of the canal was\nbegun. After weeks of toil, of chopping through dense canebrakes, and\nof floundering through the swamp mud, the party reached a lone cypress\ntree that was supposed to stand sentinel over the crypt. The treasure\ncould not be found.\n\nDisappointed in their quest and disgusted at their own credulity, the\ntreasure seekers caused the arrest of C\u2014\u2014 on the charge of having taken\ntheir money under false pretenses; C\u2014\u2014 claimed as the reason for their\nfailure that he had lost his bearings. Who knows?\u2014Adapted from a story\nin the Galveston News, October 27, 1908.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNEASY GHOST OF LAFITTE\n\nBy Julia Beazley\n\n                \u201cOr if thou hast uphoarded in thy life\n                Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,\n                For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,\n                Speak of it.\u201d\n\n                \u201cIt faded on the crowing of the cock.\u201d\u2014Hamlet.\n\n\nWithin the memory of men still living, Texas coast dwellers used to\ngather around firesides on northery winter nights, and while the rich\njuice of sweet potatoes roasting among the ashes oozed through the\njackets, tell tales of \u201cthe Pirate of the Gulf.\u201d Not a few of these\ntales centered about an ancient and dilapidated house at Bayshore Park,\nLa Porte, in Harris County. Under it, so they say, is the blood marked\nbooty of Lafitte; and though old tales and old times and old houses\npass, anyone hardy enough to spend the night in this deserted building\nmay yet, according to report, receive a visit from the guilt-harried\nspirit that sometimes in distress and sometimes in anger is still\ntrying to win absolution for his earthly sins.\n\nThe legend runs that upon a certain occasion Lafitte and his\nbuccaneering crew sailed up to what is now Bay Ridge (which is opposite\nthe haunted house of La Porte). He anchored his schooner offshore, and\nrowed to the beach with two trusted lieutenants and the heavy chest\nwhich none dared touch except at his orders. When the skiff grounded,\nthe watchers on the schooner saw their chief blindfold his helpers;\nthen they saw the three disappear with the chest behind a screen of\ngrapevine-laden trees. Two hours later Lafitte returned alone. He was\nin a black mood and no one had the temerity to question him. It was\nsupposed that he had caught one of his helpers trying to mark the\nlocation of his cache, and had killed them both. Some say that he led\nthem back to the pit they had dug and filled up, made them reopen and\nenlarge it, and while they were bent down digging, shot them dead. Soon\nafterwards Lafitte and his followers went down together in a West India\nhurricane, and his crime-stained treasure still lies buried in its\nsecret hiding place.\n\nYet to many, as I have intimated, that place has not been secret. It is\nunder the old house. As faithfully as I can follow the tale, I shall\nrelate an experience connected with that old house as it was told me by\na Confederate veteran who has now passed on. For personal reasons I\nshall call him Major Walcart, though that was not his real name. The\ntale, however, is a genuine legend in that it has long been current in\nthe vicinity of La Porte.\n\n\u201cIt was on a February night back in the eighties,\u201d the Major used to\nsay. \u201cThe early darkness of a murky day had overtaken me, and I was\ndead tired. I do not think mud ever lay deeper along the shore of\nGalveston Bay, or that an east wind ever blew more bleakly. When I came\nto a small stream I rode out into the open water, as the custom then\nwas, to find shallow passage. A full moon was rising out of the bay.\nHeavy clouds stretched just above it, and I remember the unearthly\naspect of the blustering breakers in its cheerless light. The immensity\nand unfriendliness of the scene made me feel lonesome, and I think the\nhorse shared my mood. By common consent we turned across before we had\ngone far enough from shore, and fell into the trench cut by the stream\nin the bottom of the bay.\n\n\u201cWe were wretchedly wet as we scrambled up a clayey slope and gained\nthe top of the bluff. A thin cry which I had not been sure was real\nwhen I first heard it now became insistent. It was like the wail of a\nchild in mortal pain, and I confess that it reminded me of tales I had\nheard of the werewolf, which lures unwary travelers to their doom by\nimitating the cry of a human infant. By the uncertain light of the\nmoon, which the next moment was cut off entirely, I saw that I had\nreached a kind of stable that crowned the bluff, and from this\nstructure the uncanny summons seemed to come.\n\n\u201cThe sounds were growing fainter, and I hesitated but a moment.\nDismounting, I led my horse through the doorless entrance, and now the\nmystery was explained. Huddled together for warmth lay a flock of\nsleeping goats. A kid had rashly squeezed itself into the middle of the\nheap, and the insensate brutes were crushing its life out. I found the\nperishing little creature, and its flattened body came back to the full\ntide of life in my arms. Its warmth was grateful to my cold fingers,\nand I fondled it a moment before setting it down on the dry dirt floor.\n\n\u201cI tied my horse to a post that upheld the roof of the stable, and with\nsaddle and blanket on my arm started toward the house, which I could\nmake out in its quadrangle of oaks, not many yards distant. The horse\nwhinnied protestingly as I left him, and when the moaning of the wind\nin the eaves smote my ears I was half in mind to turn back and bunk\nwith the goats. It was a more forbidding sound than the hostile roar of\nthe breakers had been in the bay.\n\n\u201cI called, but only the muddy waves incessantly tearing at the bluff\nmade answer. I had scarcely hoped really to hear the sound of a human\nvoice. The great double doors leading in from the front porch were\nbarred, but the first window I tried yielded entrance. Striking a\nmatch, I found myself in a room that gave promise of comfort. Fat pine\nkindling lay beside the big fireplace, and dry chunks of solid oak were\nwaiting to glow for me the whole night through.\n\n\u201cI was vaguely conscious that the brave fire I soon had going did not\ndrive the chill from the air so promptly as it should, but my head was\ntoo heavy with sleep to be bothered. I spread my horse blanket quite\nclose to the cheerful blaze, and with saddle for pillow and slicker for\ncover I abandoned myself to the luxury of rest.\n\n\u201cI do not know how long I had slept when I became aware of a steady\ngaze fixed on my face. The man was looking down on me, and no living\ncreature ever stood so still. There was imperious command in the\nunblinking eyes, and yet I saw a sort of profound entreaty also.\n\n\u201cIt was plain that the visitant had business with me. I arose, and\ntogether we left the room, passed its neighbor, and entered a third, a\nbarren little apartment through whose cracks the wind came mercilessly.\nI think it was I who had opened the doors. My companion did not seem to\nmove. He was merely present all the time.\n\n\u201c\u2018It is here,\u2019 he said, as I halted in the middle of the bare floor,\n\u2018that more gold lies buried than is good for any man. You have but to\ndig, and it is yours. You can use it; I cannot. However, it must be\napplied only to purposes of highest beneficence. Not one penny may be\nevilly or selfishly spent. On this point you must keep faith and beware\nof any failing. Do you accept?\u2019\n\n\u201cI answered, \u2018Yes,\u2019 and the visitant was gone, and I was shivering with\ncold. I groped my way back to my fire, bumping into obstructions I had\nnot found in my journey away from it. I piled on wood with a generous\nhand, and the flames leaped high. I watched the unaccountable shadows\ndance on the whitewashed walls, and marked how firebeams flickered\nacross the warpings of the boards in the floor. Then I dozed off.\n\n\u201cI do not know how long I had been asleep when I felt the presence of\nthe visitant again. The still reproach of his fixed eyes was worse than\nwrath. \u2018I need your help more than you can know,\u2019 he said, \u2018and you\nwould fail me. The treasure is mine to give. I paid for it with the\nsubstance of my soul. I want you to have it. With it you can balance\nsomewhat the burden of guilt I carry for its sake.\u2019\n\n\u201cAgain we made the journey to the spot where the treasure was buried,\nand this time he showed it to me. There were yellow coins, jeweled\nwatches, women\u2019s bracelets, diamond rings, and strings of pearls. It\nwas just such a trove as I had dreamed of when as a boy I had planned\nto dig for Lafitte\u2019s treasure, except that the quantity of it was\ngreater. With the admonition, \u2018Do not force me to come again,\u2019 my\ncompanion was gone, and once more I made my way back to the fire.\n\n\u201cThis time I took up my saddle and blanket and went out to the company\nof my horse. The wind and the waves were wailing together, but I\nthought I saw a promise of light across the chilly bay, and never was\nthe prospect of dawn more welcome. As I saddled up and rode off, the\ndoleful boom of the muddy water at the foot of the bluff came to me\nlike an echoed anguish.\u201d\n\nBut Lafitte does not appear to every one who spends a night in the\nhouse, and any person seeking the treasure from purely selfish motives\nis likely to rue his pains. A story is told of an acquisitive and\nenterprising man who came hundreds of miles with the purpose of helping\nhimself to the chance of finding pirate gold, but who abruptly changed\nhis mind after spending a night in the house. As Lafitte steadily\npursues his object of finding a fit recipient for his dangerous gift,\nnever succeeding, his disappointment is sometimes terrible, so they\nsay, and some simple folk believe that when there is a particularly\ndolorous moan in the wash of the waves, it is the despair of the pirate\nfinding voice in the wail of the waters.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLAFITTE LORE\n\nBy J. O. Webb\n\n\nJohn Smith and W. C. Callihan of the old town of Liverpool, Brazoria\nCounty, are each eighty-four years old; each is sound in mind and body;\nand each has spent practically his entire life in the vicinity of\nLiverpool. These men speak familiarly of Warren D. C. Hall, of Lamar,\nand of Lafitte\u2019s lieutenants. The legendary material here given is\nbased on their separate statements. However, the stories told by them\ncoincide to a remarkable degree. Liverpool is situated on Chocolate\nBayou, and is so near Galveston Island that the early history of the\ntwo places is closely related. Consequently Smith and Callihan are\nfamiliar with the lore bearing on Lafitte\u2019s life. What they have to say\nis not based so much on legends in general circulation as on the\nstories told them by Lafitte\u2019s associates. One of these followers of\nLafitte was Jim Campbell, who, after the departure of his chief from\nGalveston Island in 1821, settled on what became known as Campbell\u2019s\nBayou. The other was an odd character called Captain Snyder.\n\nNo story of Lafitte proceeds very far without referring in some way to\nburied treasure. The lives led by the two strange characters just\nmentioned caused many to believe that they had stored away some of\ntheir chief\u2019s wealth. According to Smith and Callihan, these\nex-associates of Lafitte never lacked money, although they were engaged\nin no profitable business. Long after the death of Jim Campbell, it was\ngenerally believed that his widow knew where money was buried but was\nunwilling to reveal the place.\n\nCaptain Snyder was likewise known to have plenty of money. He was\nengaged in carrying some kind of trade from the Brazos to Liverpool,\nfor which he used a one-eyed mule, but he got little income from this\noccupation. His actions at times, too, were rather strange. Smith was\noften on the boat with him, and when they would approach Galveston\nIsland, Snyder would frequently get off and go ashore. There he would\ngo to a clump of bushes, and apparently try to get his bearings for\nsome point.\n\nSome of the buried treasure stories, however, are based on more direct\ninformation. In the fifties, according to the authorities already\nquoted, there appeared at the mouth of Chocolate Bayou a small vessel,\nwhich remained in that vicinity for several days. During the daytime it\nwould go to the opposite side of the bay, and at night it would return\nto the near shore. This odd procedure aroused a little curiosity, but\nwould doubtless have been soon forgotten had not an important discovery\nfollowed. A few days after the vessel had gone, Smith and Callihan paid\na visit to the mouth of the Bayou and, to their surprise, found that\nexcavations had been made. Beginning at the shore, a long trench had\nbeen opened, and at the end of this a large hole had been dug.\nApparently, a chest of some kind had been taken out, for the imprint of\nthe box\u2014even to the handles\u2014was plainly visible. As further evidence,\nthere was lying to one side a broken earthen jar that had been sealed\nwith sealing wax, and upon its fragments were imprints of coins.\n\nA less realistic story is told of the region around what was called\nDick\u2019s Camp, on Chocolate Bayou. A Mrs. Adams who lived in the vicinity\nhad had a persistent dream of buried treasure. For three successive\nnights she had the same dream, and in these dreams she was told that\n$100,000 in gold was buried near Dick\u2019s Camp. The exact spot was to be\nfound by sighting with three stakes due east from a certain point. Mrs.\nAdams was so impressed with the repetition of this dream that the third\nmorning she and her son set out in search of the hidden treasure. On\nthe way they were joined by Smith, who at first was not told the\npurpose of the excursion. On reaching the spot they did not find any\nstake set up, but they did find three china trees in a line running due\neast. The son, whose name was Brunner, began sighting and measuring,\nand finally he said, \u201cHere it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat?\u201d asked Smith.\n\n\u201c$100,000 in gold,\u201d replied Brunner.\n\nExcavation was begun at once, but had not proceeded far when the\ntreasure hunters dug into an oyster bed. Thinking there was little hope\nof finding treasure in that medium, the search was abandoned and, so\nfar as is known, it has not been renewed.\n\nCaptain Snyder, who has already been mentioned, was a strange\ncharacter. Those who knew him declare that he slept with one eye open,\nand that often he would cry out in his sleep, \u201cBoys, the Spaniards are\ncoming.\u201d He told many Lafitte stories. He had seen service with his\nchief on voyages against the Spanish. According to his description,\nthese encounters with the Spaniards were bloody affairs. Blood ran off\nthe decks like water, and when the fight was over, the enemy dead were\nthrown into the sea. One of the most remarkable incidents related by\nSnyder, however, pertained to the storm of 1819. Lafitte, with his four\nships, was in the bay when the hurricane arose. The storm became so\nintense that he decided to go with his vessels to the high seas and\ntake his chances there. He headed toward the channel, but, as the wind\nwas blowing from the east, he was unable to get out that way. He\ntherefore came back and drove his vessels straight across the island in\nsix or seven feet of water.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE PIRATE SHIP OF THE SAN BERNARD\n\nA LEGEND OF THEODOSIA BURR ALLSTON\n\nBy J. W. Morris\n\n\nRumor of a pirate ship wrecked at the mouth of the San Bernard River,\nBrazoria County, has persisted for more than a century. Colonel\nHunnington, who is seventy-eight years old, and who has lived near the\nmouth of the San Bernard for sixty years, heard of the wrecked\nprivateer from the McNeill family, which established itself on the\nBernard in 1822. Colonel Hunnington says that the ship was wrecked\nabout 1816. It had put into the river to escape a great hurricane. The\ncrew buried their golden pillage, some say ten million dollars, before\nthe water rose to their destruction. When the storm passed, only one\npirate remained alive. Colonel Hunnington says that the buried money\nhas never been found, and he believes that it still lies where pirate\nhands placed it more than a hundred years ago. Captain William\nSterling, who died a few years ago at the age of eighty, gave me\ncorroborative evidence concerning the pirate ship. He said that during\nhis boyhood he knew a solitary fisherman on Matagorda Peninsula who\nclaimed to be the sole survivor of the wrecked privateer. He often\nshowed the boy gold coins, which he called Spanish doubloons.\n\nA wild and fascinating legend of the storm-wrecked ship was told me\nmany years ago by Doctor Sid Williams, who was then a practicing\nphysician near the mouth of Old Caney in Matagorda County. Mr. Jacob\nSmith told the same story. It is ascribed to a chief of the Carancaguas\nIndians, who spoke broken English and often visited the white settlers.\nHe said that his tribe had always lived along the coast\u2014a fact\nsubstantiated by history. A small band, of which he was chief, lived in\nthe timber a few miles from the San Bernard River, along which clear to\nits mouth grew live oak trees and tough salt cedars. One day a great\nstorm came out of the Gulf; the wind blew with fury that increased as\nthe darkness came, and the waters rose upon the land. The chief and his\npeople climbed into the salt cedars, which bent with the wind but did\nnot break. After two days the storm passed and the tidal waters fell\nback. Many of the huge live oaks were destroyed utterly, and the\nremainder were so twisted and broken that they soon died. Since that\ntime there has been no forest along the lowest reaches of the San\nBernard.\n\nAs soon as the storm abated, the chief went from his camp to the bank\nof the river, where a pale-face lived alone. He found the hermit\u2019s body\ntied with a rope to the splintered stump of a tree. There the waves had\noverwhelmed him. The chief also saw, partly in the water and partly on\nthe land, the wreckage of a great ship. As he looked, he heard a faint\nvoice. He followed the sound to what had been a cabin, and saw the\nghost-like form of a white woman chained to the side. She stood with\ndifficulty, and presently fainted, perhaps from weariness, perhaps from\nfright at seeing an Indian savage, for the chief made a habit of\nwearing deer antlers on his head. He broke the chain from the wall and\ncarried her to the shore and laid her on the sand. He bathed her face\nin cold water, and she revived. She told him that her father had been a\ngreat chief away back somewhere, but that he had been misunderstood and\nhad had to leave his country. Her husband was governor, she said, of a\ngreat state. She had been in a ship on the ocean when pirates destroyed\nthe ship and killed all aboard it except herself. She was put on the\npirate ship, which, returning to its Gulf headquarters, had been\nencountered by the storm and driven inland. There was, she said, a\nchest of gold on the wrecked ship, but the Indian could not find it. He\ndid find the captain and some of the crew lashed to parts of the\nwreckage, dead. The chief made every effort to revive the woman, but\nshe grew steadily weaker. She took from her neck a chain and locket and\ngave them to him. She began to sing, very faintly and beautifully. The\nGreat Spirit spread a white wigwam around her so that the Indian could\nnot see her. The voice sang on into the night, more and more faintly.\nWhen the morning star rose, the voice was still. At daylight the white\nwigwam was gone, and the woman lay dead. The Indian dug a grave with\nbroken pieces of the wrecked ship, laid her there, and covered the\ngrave with a broken door from the wreck. No man knows where that grave\nlies.\n\nThe Indian took the locket and chain to some white men, who read on the\nlocket the word Theodosia and found within pictures of a fine-looking\nman and a little boy. Long afterward coast dwellers told this story in\nexplanation of the mysterious fate of Theodosia Burr Allston. [117]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDARY ORIGINS OF TEXAS FLOWERS, NAMES, AND STREAMS\n\n\nAN INDIAN LEGEND OF THE BLUE BONNET\n\nBy Mrs. Bruce Reid\n\n\n[Considering the popularity of Texas blue bonnets, it is rather strange\nthat legend concerning the flower is not more widespread. Corroborative\nversions prove conclusively that there is a legend. The first version\nis supplied by Mrs. Mattie Austin Hatcher, of the University of Texas;\nit was given her by a Mrs. Lida Lea of Austin.\n\nWhen the first Spanish missionaries came to the Southwest, they brought\nwith them the seeds of a blue flower which grew originally on the\nhillsides of Jerusalem. They planted the seeds first within the walls\nof the mission gardens; they sprouted, and, though the soil was alien,\nthe flowers grew and bloomed and soon spread far beyond the mission\nlands. Thus came the blue bonnet to Texas.\n\nAnother version of the legend was given to Mrs. Hatcher by a Mexican\nlady from the City of Mexico. She said that she had always heard that\nthe flower came to the Southwest in this manner: There was a terrible\npestilence in the land of the Aztecs. The prayers of the priests and\nthe pleadings of the people had brought no relief. At length the voice\nof the god to whom they prayed proclaimed that a living sacrifice of\nsome sinless human being must be made to atone for the wickedness of\nthe people. A certain Aztec maiden offered to make the sacrifice. Her\noffer was accepted. When she went up to the altar on the hillside, her\nlittle bonnet dropped from her head without being noticed, and the next\nmorning the ground around the altar was covered with flowers in the\npattern and color of her bonnet, each splotched with the hue of her\nspilt blood. The pestilence passed. Now the Mexicans call the flower el\nconejo (cotton-tail rabbit), but in Texas it is the blue bonnet.\n\nThis legend is very characteristic of the Southwest. Mr. J. H. Tipps of\nSan Antonio saw a cross high on a hill near Roma, Texas. He asked an\nold Mexican why it was there. The Mexican said that it was to\ncommemorate the life of a girl who had saved the community by prayer. A\nterrible drouth was ruining the country, the most terrible ever known.\nThere was not a sprig of forage for animal kind to eat; the people were\nstarving. Then the girl went up on the mountain to pray for rain. For a\nlong, long time she prayed. She prayed until she was no longer\nconscious. Then it rained, but the girl died before she could be\nbrought down. She gave her life, and the cross was erected on top of\nher Mount of Olives.\n\nComparative folk-lorists will associate the springing of the blue\nbonnet from human blood with the Greek legends of the hyacinth and the\nnarcissus. It is related, too, to the legend of the bleeding heart\nshamrock, said to have first appeared in Saint Roche\u2019s Cemetery at New\nOrleans, from the blood spattered on some clover by a lover who stabbed\nhimself to death over the grave of his sweetheart.\n\nThe legend told by Mrs. Reid must have come from the Comanches rather\nthan from the Cherokees (who did, however, bring with them to Texas the\nlegend of the Cherokee Rose). The Cherokees were in Texas only twenty\nyears, and then hardly into the blue bonnet lands. See \u201cThe Last of the\nCherokees in Texas,\u201d by Albert Woldert, Chronicles of Oklahoma, issued\nby the Oklahoma Historical Society, June, 1923, pp. 179\u2013226.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nThe teller of legends often adds details to his narrative in order to\ngive it reality. I do not pretend that all of the details in the\nfollowing legend are as I heard them, but something like this legend\nwas told me by the late \u201cJack\u201d Mitchell, whose people lived for fifty\nyears among the Indians of the piney-woods and cross-timbers of Texas.\nMy understanding is that the legend came to him either from the\nCherokees or the Comanches. There is another Indian legend about the\nblue bonnet. It has to do with a fight among warriors in the happy\nhunting grounds, during the course of which they knocked from the sky\nchunks of blue that fell to the earth and assumed the form of the blue\nbonnet.\n\nThere had been a great flood followed by a greater drouth, and then on\nthe drouth came a bitter winter of sleet and ice. Even in the far\nsouth, where the cold breath of winter is seldom felt, the woods and\ngrasses of the coastal plains were sheathed with a rattling icy armor.\nAll the game was dead or gone. The Indian people were starving to\ndeath. A dreadful disease had broken out among them. It was clear that\nthe Great Spirit had indeed turned his face away from his children. Day\nand night the medicine men chanted their incantations, danced to the\nmusic of the sacred tomtoms, and mutilated their bodies in agony for a\npromise from the angered Spirit. At last the Great Spirit spoke. This\nwas his message. In penance for the wrong-doing that had brought the\nevils upon the tribe there must be a burnt offering of its most valued\npossession, and the ashes of this offering must be scattered to the\neast and to the west, to the north and to the south.\n\nNow among those who sat in discreet and becoming silence, beyond the\nanxious warriors gathered about the fires, was a little maid, too young\nfor the heavy burdens of Indian womanhood to have yet begun to fall\nupon her small shoulders. Hidden among the folds of her scanty garments\nshe tightly clasped a tiny figure of white fawn-skin, rudely shaped\ninto the likeness of a papoose, with long braids of black horse-hair,\nand eyes, nose, and mouth painted on it with the juice of various\nberries. This figure the little maid had robed in a skirt, mantle, and\nhigh head-dress, out of the feathers of a bird of the rarest of hues in\nnature\u2014the big, proudly crested, black-collared bird that calls \u201cJay!\nJay!\u201d through the topmost branches of the tallest and largest trees.\nVery, very beautiful were the feathers of this bird, soft, richly blue\nas the late afternoon skies when they clear after showers which have\nlasted through a day; and as an older mother loves her living child, so\ndid the little maid love her deer-skin baby. Almost would she rather\nhave died than have parted with it. Well she knew that it was by far\nthe most precious of things owned by the tribe; and her heart was very\nheavy indeed for the rest of that day, and the part of a night that she\nlay beside her mother in their tepee, sleepless for that she saw her\nduty so clearly.\n\nAt last she arose, and stooping to lift from the smouldering fire\nwithin the tepee a bit of wood, one end of which was a glowing coal,\nshe slipped out into the night. Under the twinkling, frosty stars she\nknelt, and prayed that her offering might be accepted and the fact of\nthe acceptance made known to her.\n\nThen blinking her eyes to keep back the tears, which an Indian child\nearly learns must never be shed, she made a fire of twigs and grasses,\nand thrust her beloved papoose deep down into the glowing heart of the\nblaze, till the last bit of skin and shred of feather were consumed to\nashes. The ashes she carefully scooped up in the hollow of her hand and\nscattered, to the east and the west, to the north and the south. Then\nputting out what remained of the fire, she patted the earth smooth and\nflat again.\n\nAs she did this last she felt beneath her palms something as fine and\nsoft as the plumage with which she had clothed her doll\u2014something that\nhad not been in that place upon the ground when she cleared it to make\nher little fire. Believing that this might be the sign for which she\nhad prayed, she would have picked up what lay against her hand, but she\nfound it to be rooted in the soil.\n\nSo, returning to the tepee, she waited until morning and then with her\nmother, whom she told of what she had done, she went to the place where\nshe had burned the little deer-skin papoose. But all about, as far as\nthe ashes had traveled upon the early spring night breeze, was nothing\nbut a blanket of such flowers as had never before enriched the\nlandscape; and their thick tassels, in so great a profusion as nearly\nto hide the tender green of their leaves, were of the same deep, deep\nblue as the feathers of the bird that calls \u201cJay! Jay!\u201d through the\nhigh tree-tops.\n\nWhen the chief of the medicine men heard the story told by the mother\nand daughter, and saw for himself the expanse of blue flowers, he\ncalled the tribe together, and solemnly informed them that the command\nof the Great Spirit had been obeyed and the sacrifice accepted, and\nthat the evil which had for so long pursued them would now be at an\nend.\n\nIt was even so. At once the plains and the open places, between lines\nand clumps of trees, began to renew their verdure, scattered over with\ngayly colored wild flowers; the birds and four-footed things came back\nto raise their families; and the tribal crops, natural and cultivated,\ngave every sign of abundant harvest.\n\nIn place of the name the little maid had borne, another was given her,\na name of many musically flowing syllables, the meaning of which, in\nthe red men\u2019s tongue, was \u201cshe who dearly loves her people.\u201d\n\nBecause the great shaggy animals, whose herds of old thundered across\nthe far-flung prairies, were so fond of its succulent green abundance,\nthe blue flower was called an Indian name which the pale-faces\ntranslated into \u201cbuffalo clover.\u201d After the manner of its class of\nplant, it bore prodigious quantities of fertile seed and rapidly\nextended the limits of its growth.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE WATER LILIES CAME IN THE SAN MARCOS RIVER [118]\n\nBy Bella French Swisher\n\n\n[This sentimental legend is not an invention of Bella French Swisher\u2019s,\nwho was given to turning legends to literary uses, but not to\nmanufacturing them. I have heard of it from a lady who grew up on the\nSan Marcos and was familiar with the story of the Indian lovers\nforty-five years ago. It is akin to another Indian legend of the same\nflower, Castalia elegans, according to which a star maiden fell in love\nwith the red people of the earth and came down to live among them in\nthe form of a water lily. This latter legend is quoted from the Grolier\nSociety\u2019s The Book of Knowledge, by Kate Peel Anderson in the Houston\nChronicle, September 16, 1923, page 8. The San Marcos version is\nprobably appropriated from some other stream.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\n    All pearly and bright, by the day and the night,\n      (Beautiful, beautiful river)\n    Reflecting the sky and the clouds passing by,\n      Flows the San Marcos forever.\n\n    The lilies arise in their damp paradise,\n      And they open their petals in glory;\n    But on every leaf is written, in brief,\n      Such a sweet little Indian story!\n\n    Far back in a day when the red men held sway,\n      On the banks of the beautiful river,\n    An Indian maid of the world grew afraid,\n    And gave back her sweet life to the Giver.\n\n    A princess was she of a royal degree.\n      Who had loved far beneath her high station;\n    She suffered the blame, the sorrow and shame,\n      Like a maid of some wealthier nation.\n\n    But her heart-strings were torn, when one bright April morn,\n      He was slain\u2014her most worshipful lover.\n    On the green banks he lay, all the long, weary day,\n      With only the sky for a cover.\n\n    But just at the night, when the star-beams were bright,\n      Her despair gave her power to sever\n    The terrible bands, that imprisoned her hands,\n      And she fled to the banks of the river,\n\n    To the spot where he lay \u2019mid the shadows so gray,\n      Colder still than the bright pearly water.\n    Just a prayer and a breath, and they met there in death,\n      The slain lover and the chieftain\u2019s mad daughter.\n\n    But the breath and the prayer, as a seedling fell there,\n      Though the waters were ever so chilly.\n    They discovered her not, but morn found on the spot\n      Where she died, a white water-lily.\n\n    Since then, waxen and white, in the sun\u2019s golden light,\n      And as well in the evening glooming,\n    May ever be seen, \u2019mid their foliage green\n      In the water, the white lilies blooming.\n\n    And e\u2019er since that day, tradition doth say,\n      Have the Indians shunned the fair river;\n    Though pearly and bright, by day and by night,\n      Flows the San Marcos forever.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF EAGLE LAKE\n\nReprinted from the Morning Star, Houston, 1839\n\n\n[The following legend (reference to which was contributed by Mr. E. W.\nWinkler, Librarian of the University of Texas) is taken from the first\ndaily newspaper of Texas, the Morning Star, Houston, June 13, 1839,\nVol. I, No. 56, pp. 2\u20133, which in turn reprinted it from the Richmond\nTelescope. A week after the Morning Star printed the legend, the\nTelegraph and Texas Register reprinted it, June 19, 1839. A few\ntypographical errors have been corrected in this reprinting and some of\nthe original punctuation has been redistributed. The legend of how\nEagle Lake got its name has persisted down to the present day, but this\nversion is probably the oldest that we shall ever find.\n\nA version with many changes was published in The American Sketch Book\n(Texas Pioneer Magazine), Austin, Vol. VII, No. 2 (1881), pp. 99\u2013102.\nThe article in which it is embodied is unsigned, but the legend itself\nis said to be \u201cfresh from the pen of Mrs. F. Darden\u201d [Mrs. F. A. D.\nDarden], and it is apparently quoted from some other publication.\nAccording to this version, one of the lovers, Sonoto, was old and\nfierce; the other, Gray Cloud, was youthful and bold. The tree that the\nrivals climbed was a cottonwood. Gray Cloud reached the nest first and\nhad grasped one of the eaglets to bring it down when he was assaulted\nby the fierce parent eagle. Sonoto seized the opportunity to hurl his\nopponent to the ground a hundred feet below. Out in the lake were the\nIndians, watching the contest from their canoes. When she saw her\nlover\u2019s fate, the maiden, Forest Flower, began the death chant; then\nshe leaped into the water and was drowned. Later the two lovers were\nburied side by side at the foot of the tree.\n\nThe Eagle Lake Headlight, according to its editor, Mr. Bruce W.\nMcCarty, printed in 1903 a version of the legend written by Mrs. Emma\nDuke, now dead. A year ago another version, in verse form, \u201cwritten for\nthe Eagle Lake Chamber of Commerce\u201d by Mrs. H. W. Carothers, formerly\nof Eagle Lake but now of Houston, and printed on a folio leaflet for\npopular distribution, was sent me by the mayor of Eagle Lake. It shows\nall the crassitude of modern \u201cboosting.\u201d In it a smug young Indian gets\nthe eaglet and presents it to the maiden\u2014his success an emblem of \u201cthe\nspirit of endeavor\u201d that characterizes the modern \u201cprogressive\u201d\ninhabitants of Eagle Lake! Mr. Louis Landa, who is Oldright fellow at\nthe University of Texas and whose home is at Eagle Lake, says that the\nlegend in one form or another is common in the vicinity.\n\nThus may be traced over a period of almost a century the progress of\nwhat was originally a very simple, a very dramatic, and a beautiful\nlegend.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nEagle Lake is a beautiful sheet of water, about seven miles in\ncircumference, and is connected by a bayou bearing the same name\u2014a kind\nof outlet\u2014with the Colorado. That body of land through which Eagle Lake\nBayou passes may be said to be without exceptions the most fertile in\nthe world. Besides its qualities of unsurpassed fruitfulness, there is\nno part of the known western hemisphere where the common grape grows so\nabundantly or abounds so spontaneously.\n\nA large sycamore tree is shown on the west shore of the lake, where a\nlarge eagle, the Falco Washingtonianis, built her nest. The remains of\nthe nest are there, consisting of branches of trees and tufts of grass,\nwhich hang fully 110 feet from the surface of the earth below. The bird\nwas called by the inhabitants of the country the king eagle, and its\nnest was considered inaccessible. The \u201cking eagle\u2019s nest\u201d and \u201ceagle\u2019s\nwater\u2019s wave\u201d were proverbial phrases with the various tribes of\nIndians in western Texas.\n\nThe daughter of an Indian chief\u2014a beautiful, dark-eyed girl\u2014was wooed\nby two young warriors of equal pretensions to consideration among the\nIndians. Each was anxious to obtain the hand of the fawn-like damsel of\nthe woods, and each, no doubt, loved with all the ardor and fervency,\nsimplicity and sincerity, of a rude youth of the forest. To say which\nshould become the husband of his daughter was a great perplexity to the\nmind of the maiden\u2019s father. He had his political interests to\nstrengthen and his views to carry out, as have greater men in greater\nnations. After many cogitations he resolved upon the following plan by\nwhich the suitors themselves could give a decision.\n\nIt was in the summer season, and the \u201cgreat eagle\u201d had hatched her\nyoung. The old chief\u2019s plan was no more nor less than that the young\nman of the two in question who could bring him the young eagles alive,\nby a certain time, without cutting down the tree, should have his\ndaughter. The proposition was accepted, and the rival lovers set out to\nprocure, if possible, the young eagles. Each prepared himself with a\nraw-hide rope to throw over some limb of the tree, which could be\nfastened and facilitate the ascent. They both arrived alone and about\nthe same time at the king eagle\u2019s tree.\n\nEach had precisely the other\u2019s means to come at the young eagles, and\nthe other\u2019s means seemed to each so sure to succeed that neither would\nconsent for the other to make the first attempt; whereupon arose a\ndispute, a quarrel, and a fight, which terminated in the immediate\ndeath of one, and the infliction of a mortal wound upon the other, who\ndied a few days after the combat upon the spot where they had fought,\nbeing unable from debility to leave it.\n\nMeantime the maiden, becoming anxious for their return, and\napprehending some such catastrophe, seized her father\u2019s spear and\nhastened to the place. She arrived there in the afternoon of the day on\nwhich the last one of the two lovers breathed his last. Frantic with\nfrenzy and despair, she plunged the lance into her own breast, and died\nas she had always lived, in the language of the Indian who related the\nstory, \u201cthe wife of no one.\u201d\n\nEver afterwards the spot was regarded with a superstitious veneration\nby every tribe of Indians to whom was related their hapless story. Once\nin every seven moons the young men and maidens assembled to consecrate\nthe spot, and each time they erected a cenotaph of flowers to their\nmemory. Thus Eagle Lake took a name by which it is now known and will\never be.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOLY SPRING OF FATHER MARGIL AT NACOGDOCHES\n\nBy E. G. Littlejohn\n\n\n[Fray Don Antonio Margil de Jes\u00fas was one of the most active of Spanish\nmissionaries in Texas during the first quarter of the eighteenth\ncentury, preaching and founding missions. Legend has remembered him\nwell. The Margil Vine is named for him, the legend of which is told in\nHistory and Legends of The Alamo and Other Missions, by Miss Adina de\nZavala, under the title \u201cLegend of the First Christmas at the Alamo.\u201d\nBut the most remarkable Margil legend\u2014and this told by Mr. Littlejohn\nis but a variant of it\u2014is that connected with the origin of the San\nAntonio River. It has been realistically told by Major Charles Merritt\nBarnes in his Combats and Conquests of Immortal Heroes, pages 76\u201379,\nand retold by Mrs. Wright. [119] According to Major Barnes, he heard it\nin 1875 from a venerable San Antonian of Spanish blood.\n\nFather Margil was with a company of priests and soldiers spying out the\nland when they were almost overcome by the heat and drouth. At length\nthey came into a valley where there was green grass for the horses but\nnot a drop of water. The priests kneeled under a tree to pray for\nwater, and as he prayed Father Margil\u2019s eye fell on bunches of mustang\ngrapes above him. With praises to God, he began to climb for the juicy\nfruit. While he was reaching for a cluster, he fell. In falling, he\nswung to the grapevine and somehow uprooted it with a sudden jerk. Then\nfrom the hole left by the root a plenteous and refreshing spring of\nwater gushed out. Thus was the origin of what is now called the San\nAntonio River.\n\nFinally, at the very moment of his death, which was in the City of\nMexico, August 2, 1726, all the mission bells in Texas, so legend runs,\nrang out of their own accord, without hands. [120]\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nThe story of the \u201cHoly Spring of Father Margil,\u201d as it is called in the\ncountry around Nacogdoches, was told by H. C. Fuller in the Galveston\nNews more than twenty years ago. The spring is situated just back of\nthe city cemetery of Nacogdoches, overlooking La Nana Creek. Every\nother spring in the neighborhood has gone dry, but this one has never\nbeen known to cease its abundant flow. By some devout people its waters\nare thought to have healing power. The story of its miraculous origin\nruns as follows.\n\nIn 1716, or thereabout, the zealous Franciscan missionary, Father\nMargil, visited the Nacogdoches country, preaching to the Indians and\nprojecting missions. His work accomplished, he and a few devoted\nfollowers started back for San Antonio, then the headquarters of the\nmissionary movement. It was midsummer, the heat was terrific, and a\nburning drouth had made the whole country as dry as a rock. As Father\nMargil\u2019s band traveled on and found no water, they began to suffer from\nthirst, but they felt sure that they would come to water in La Nana\nCreek. Imagine their disappointment upon arriving to find the bed as\nparched as the banks.\n\nOvercome with heat, thirst, and fatigue, the entire party, with the\nexception of Father Margil, sat dejectedly on the ground. Taking his\nwalking staff, Father Margil set out down the creek in search of water.\nAbout four hundred yards from where his companions lamented, he\nobserved signs of moisture upon a high bluff overlooking the creek;\nhere he knelt and prayed that like Moses he might be allowed to find\nwater. Then with full faith he arose and smote with his staff the rock\nwhereon he stood. Immediately there issued forth a living stream of\ncool, clear water. He tasted of it and hastily ran for his companions.\nThen they all drank and went on their way rejoicing at their miraculous\ndeliverance.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nINDIAN BLUFF ON CANADIAN RIVER [121]\n\nBy L. W. Payne, Jr.\n\n\nThis story, or legend, came to me in 1911 from a University of Texas\nstudent named W. Higgins, who got it from a guide called \u201cDoctor\u201d\nBarton on a camping trip up the Canadian River near the Oklahoma\nboundary line. Mr. Higgins admits that he has used his imagination\nsomewhat in writing the legend, but says that its basis is real legend.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d began the \u201cDoctor,\u201d \u201csee that tall rocky cliff over there?\nThere\u2019s kind of a legen\u2019 \u2019bout that. Seems like durin\u2019 early times\nthere was a man an\u2019 his family a-livin\u2019 out here on this side the\nriver, not so fur away. He had a mighty beautiful little baby, \u2019bout\ntwo years old. Besides her, there was three or four older children;\nthen their ma and pa. There was lots of Indians livin\u2019 on th\u2019 other\nside the river, near the bluff; and some lived in the cliff. Yes, they\ndid. But I think they just kept their bows and arrers in there, for I\ndon\u2019t see how they could breathe good. An\u2019 in this day an\u2019 time\neverybody\u2019s tryin\u2019 to get all the fresh air they can. But maybe them\nkind of people didn\u2019t need air. Well, anyhow, some of them Indians was\non mighty good terms with these white folks. One old Indian in\npartikler. He used to climb down the cliff an\u2019 come \u2019cross the river in\nhis boat to see his neighbors. He used to take th\u2019 little two-year-old\nin his canoe for a ride, sometimes. Mighty queer they would let him do\nit, but they did anyhow.\n\n\u201cOne day the white settler an\u2019 the Indian had a fuss. What \u2019bout, I\ndon\u2019t zactly recollect; but seems like the white man hit the Indian\nwith a piece of wood. He had tried to make the Indian do some dirty\nwork for him, an\u2019 when the red-skin refused, the white man beat him\nnearly to death. The Indian swore revenge. He went home terr\u2019ble mad.\nHe didn\u2019t go to see the settlers for a long time. They kind-a missed\nhim too.\n\n\u201cBut one day they looked out and saw him a-crossing the river. They\ndidn\u2019t know whe\u2019r to be glad or sorry. The Indian dragged the canoe up\non the shore and came straight to their hut. He looked happy and glad\nto see them. They was glad to see him too, I can tell you.\n\n\u201cFinally he took the little girl and started down to the canoe. He\npushed \u2019cross the river. It took him a long time, for you all know this\nhere river is pretty wide. He climbed the cliff with the child in his\narms. He\u2019d never done this before. The white man got scared. He called\nloud to the chief to come back; for an answer the Indian turned \u2019round\nand looked at the man with a horrible grin. Then he climbed on to the\ntop of the cliff. When he reached the top, he stopped, threw up his\nhand to the anxious folks on the other side, and with a deadly Indian\nwhoop, leaped over the cliff into this here river.\n\n\u201c\u2018What did the child\u2019s parents do?\u2019 you ask. Nothin\u2019; there wasn\u2019t\nnothin\u2019 to do. The Indian and baby was both dead. But the folks moved\naway and never was heard of agin. We call the place Indian Bluff, and\nnow you know why.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW MEDICINE MOUNDS OF HARDEMAN COUNTY GOT THEIR NAME\n\nBy L. W. Payne, Jr.\n\n\nThis legend was contributed by a University of Texas student named W.\nA. Darter, from Hardeman County, a number of years ago. He says that\nthough some of the details are \u201cmade up\u201d the main incidents are based\non legendary material current in the country of the Mounds.\n\nThe Medicine Mounds, as they are called today, are located in Hardeman\nCounty, about nine miles southeast of Quanah. They are four in number\nand extend north and south in a direct line. The tallest one stands to\nthe north two thousand feet above the surrounding country. The lowest\none stands to the south of the other three, fifteen hundred feet lower\nthan the tallest one. The other two are of such heights that if a line\nwere determined by their peaks, it would pass through the top points of\nthe two extreme ones. To the west of these mounds, running almost north\nand south, is a deep-worn trail said by the old settlers to have been a\nbuffalo trail. About these mounds and about this trail especially are\nto be found today many flint arrow-heads that the Indians let fly at\nthe buffaloes as they passed back and forth on these hills.\n\nOn the top of the tallest mound, there is a great, flat, over-hanging\nrock. This rock, the Indians used to say, was the dwelling place of a\ngood spirit. From this position one can see the surrounding country for\nmiles and miles; and it was on this account that the good spirit took\nup its abode there. While the red man was in search of game, the good\nspirit would direct his arrows straight toward the mark; and while he\nwas on the war path, this good spirit would also help him to defeat his\nenemies.\n\nNow, during early days, a tribe of Indians were roaming over this rich\ncountry, killing big game with their arrows and big fish with their\nspears. And in this tribe, as in every tribe, was a medicine man. This\nmedicine man had a beautiful daughter who had been asked to become the\nfirst squaw of the brave young chief. But she was sick with a fever,\nand she became worse as time passed on. Her father had done all he\ncould for her. He had driven away all the evil spirits that, by his\nmany devices, he could drive away, and at the same time he had brought\nin all the good spirits that he could in order that they might help\nher; but his beautiful daughter only grew worse. He had mixed his\ndifferent medicines in every way that he could think of, but all in\nvain. At last he despaired of saving her. He went outside of the little\nwigwam, squatted down, and prayed to the good spirit that dwelt upon\nthe high rock.\n\nInstantly almost, the expression of his face changed from gloom to\nhope. The idea had come to him that if he would but mix his medicine on\nthe rock, the remedy would in some way receive the power of the good\nspirit. He returned for one more glance at his daughter, and then,\npulling his bright-colored blanket about him, left for the high rock.\n\nIt was not long before he returned. He found his daughter resting well.\nHe felt her face; it was not so hot as it had been when he left. He\nstopped and looked. Had he lost her? Then he thought of the good spirit\nand the medicine. It was his last hope. He gave it.\n\nOutside the wigwam, the medicine man once more drew his blanket tightly\nabout him and squatted down. He prayed for many hours\u2014he knew not how\nmany. It was nearing evening when he heard a faint voice calling him by\nname; it was the voice of his daughter. He rose as if he had been on\nsprings; and in two steps, he was by her side. The fever had left her\nwhile he was away, and she had simply fallen into a deep sleep. The\ngood spirit had saved her.\n\nFrom this time on, the medicine man did not forget the good spirit on\nthe high rock; and it is said that every year thereafter he went\nregularly to these mounds in order to instil some of this good spirit\ninto his medicine. From this habit of the medicine man, these hills\nhave been called the Medicine Mounds.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAMING OF METHEGLIN CREEK, BELL COUNTY\n\nBy Alex. Dienst\n\n\nMetheglin Creek of Bell County is the only creek, so far as I can\nlearn, in the United States bearing its name. The account of how it got\nits unique name I have derived from old-timers familiar with the\nnaming, and just this year the facts as given below were confirmed to\nme by the son of the pioneer Morrison.\n\nOne of the oldest pioneer settlers of Bell County was a ranchman named\nMorrison. He settled in the extreme northwest part of Bell County, and\nhis land extended into Coryell County. His home was close to an unnamed\ncreek. Like many other pioneers of unexceptionable character, he was\ninclined to imbibe too freely at times. His wife never called him by\nany other name than \u201cHoney,\u201d a fact well known to the neighbors. One\nday his wife asked \u201cHoney\u201d to fetch her a bucket of water from the\ncreek. He was pretty well \u201cshot\u201d when he leaned over to fill the\nbucket, and fell into the creek. A waggish neighbor who witnessed the\naccident instantly christened the creek \u201cMetheglin\u201d\u2014a mixture of honey\nand water. And Metheglin Creek has been the name ever since.\n\nMetheglin was a favorite improvised drink of Texas pioneers. It was a\nmixture of honey and water, boiled, fermented, and then spiced to suit.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW DEAD HORSE CANYON GOT ITS NAME\n\nBy Victor J. Smith\n\n\nThis brief account of a name was secured from Mr. E. E. Townsend,\nsheriff of Brewster County. Shortly after 1880 General Geno, of the\nUnited States Army, and a party of surveyors were making their way down\nthe Rio Grande when they entered the upper mouth of a rugged canyon. To\nproceed with their horses meant a detour of many miles via Fort\nStockton. To continue travel directly meant that they must abandon\nhorses and use the river for transportation. It was finally decided to\nproceed down the river on rafts. In order to prevent their mounts from\nfalling into the hands of Indians and being used in forays against the\nwhites, the exploring party shot all their horses, some thirty or forty\nhead. To this day the rugged canyon through which the Rio Grande winds\nits way for several hundred miles above Del Rio is called Dead Horse\nCanyon.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE BRAZOS RIVER GOT ITS NAME\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nThe Spanish word brazo means arm. The word, like its English\nequivalent, has a wide pictorial use; thus the Spanish speak of un\nbrazo (an arm) of the sea, and as applied to streams the word may mean\nfork or branch. The complete name of the great Texas river as given by\nthe Spanish was Los Brazos de Dios\u2014The Arms of God. The name is\nremarkable, and in attempting to explain its origin legend has been no\nless remarkable. Old histories have contributed to the legend. At last,\nthe history of the naming of the stream is clear; yet the name itself\nhas something of mystery that will always provoke speculation.\n\nAccording to Miss Eleanor Claire Buckley, [122] when the Spaniards of\nthe Aguayo Expedition in 1621 struck what is now called Little River,\nin Bell County, they called it \u201cEsp\u00edritu Santo (Holy Ghost), having\nreached it on the eve of Pentecost. As will be remembered, the Brazos\nhad, in 1690, been given the name of Esp\u00edritu Santo or Colorado by De\nLe\u00f3n, who, however, had struck it before its branching (Diario, entry\nfor May 14). In the next expedition, 1691, Massanet, though he knew\nthat it had been called the Esp\u00edritu Santo, named it the San Francisco\nSolano (Diario, entry for July 24); while Ter\u00e1n, \u2018though the natives\ncalled it the Colorado,\u2019 named it the San Geronimo (Demarcaci\u00f3n, entry\nfor July 25). Espinosa and Ram\u00f3n, in 1716, crossed Little River just\nabove its junction with the Brazos. The former did not give it any\nname; the latter called it la Trinidad. Both of them called the Brazos\nproper la Trinidad, thinking doubtless that it was the river that De\nLe\u00f3n had named thus in 1690 (Diario and Derrotero, entries for June\n14). Rivera called it the \u2018Colorado o de los Brazos de Dios\u2019 (Diario,\nentry for August 30).\u201d \u201cIt may be noted,\u201d adds Dr. Bolton, \u201cthat the\nname los Brazos de Dios was applied to the Little River and to the main\nBrazos, and not to the main Brazos and the Little Brazos.\u201d\n\nBut why the arms de Dios? asks legend. I have heard that Corpus Christi\nwas named through belief that the sacred words would act as a\nprotection against harm to the inhabitants of the place. Probably the\nold custom, still maintained in Catholic countries, of giving holy or\nsainted names had its origin in some such belief. Many other streams in\nTexas than the Brazos were given holy names; as, the Trinidad\n(Trinity), the Navidad (Nativity), and the Arroyo de las Benditas\nAnimas (Creek of the Blessed Souls). Thrall says that the Trinidad and\nNavidad were so named because they were discovered on Trinity Sunday\nand Christmas day respectively. [123] He offers no authority.\n\nThe version of the Brazos legend to be quoted presently from Mollie E.\nMoore Davis\u2019 Under the Man-Fig goes back at least a century to Austin\u2019s\ncolonists, who, in all likelihood, derived it from the Spanish. It is\nprobably the source of all the other versions and seems to be by far\nthe best known. Incidentally, it appears in a book replete with\nfolk-lore\u2014one of the half dozen best Texas novels. The scene of Under\nthe Man-Fig is Columbia, on the Brazos River, in Brazoria County. Now,\namong the oldest inhabitants of Columbia is Mr. J. P. Underwood, whose\nmother was one of the \u201cfirst three hundred\u201d of Austin\u2019s colonists.\nActing upon a request, Mrs. V. M. Taylor of Angleton secured from Mr.\nUnderwood his version of how the Brazos got its name. Mrs. Taylor\nwrites:\n\n\n    \u201cHostile Indians were pursuing a body of Indians under the care of\n    the Catholics who were trying to reach the Tockanhono, \u2018mighty\n    water of the Tejas.\u2019 They reached it in time to gain the opposite\n    shore, but the hostiles trying to follow were swept away by a\n    mighty current. The joy of the padre and company was expressed by\n    their calling the Tockanhono (Indian name) \u2018Los Brazos de Dios\u2019\u2014The\n    Arms of God. Mr. Underwood gave me the account as above, saying\n    that it is the true version of the origin of Los Brazos as he heard\n    it from old settlers of Austin\u2019s colonies.\u201d\n\n\nIt will be noted that Mr. Underwood says nothing of the \u201cmission\u201d that\nfigures so largely in Mrs. Davis\u2019 account. There was no Spanish mission\non the Brazos; Nuestra Se\u00f1ora de la Luz was a mission on the not\ndistant Trinity, and at it there was a miraculous escape, but from\nfire, not from water. [124] The mission is but ambiguously hinted in a\nsong entitled \u201cLos Brazos de Dios,\u201d [125] written years ago by Mrs.\nLaura Bryan Parker, formerly of Houston, now of Washington City.\nAnother poetic version, [126] printed in 1897, makes use of the\nmission, but the details of this poem seem to have been taken entirely\nfrom Mrs. Davis\u2019 narrative. It may be, after all, that the mission is\nborrowed from the San Saba, and that the fifth and last version of the\nlegend given in this compilation is the oldest of all versions.\n\nIt is to be observed that in its lower reaches the Brazos does not come\ndown with a sudden sweep like a mountain canyon, a fact that would\nstill further indicate a borrowing from some upland stream, such as the\nSan Saba or higher Colorado.\n\nBut it is high time to get to Mrs. Davis\u2019 complete, if somewhat\nbelletristic, tale. [127]\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE\n\n\u201cThe name of the river is Los Brazos de Dios, which is to say, The Arms\nof God.\n\n\u201cThe bed of it is very deep; and the color of the water\u2014when it creeps\nsluggishly along between its banks, so shallow in places that the blue\nheron may wade it without wetting his knees\u2014is the color of tarnished\nbrass. But when it comes roaring down from the far-away Redlands, a\nsolid foam-crested wall, leaping upward a foot a minute, and spreading\ndeath and destruction into the outlying lowlands, then it is as red as\nspilled blood.\n\n\u201cOn its banks, more than a century and a half ago, a handful of\nbarefoot Franciscan friars, who had prayed and fought their way across\nthe country from Mexico, founded the Presidio of St. Jago, and\ncorralled within the boundary walls a flock of Yndios reducidos.\n\n\u201cThere were the stately church, cloistered and towered and\nrose-windowed\u2014a curious flower of architecture abloom in the savage\nwilderness\u2014and the blockhouse with its narrow loopholes, and the hut\ninto which the Indian women were thrust at night under lock and key.\n\n\u201cThe mighty forest and open prairies around teemed with Yndios bravos,\nwho hated the burly, cassocked, fighting monks, and their own\nChristianized tribesmen.\n\n\u201cThese came, in number like the leaves of the live oak, to hurl\nthemselves against the Presidio. And, after many days of hard fighting,\nthe single friar who remained alive turned his eyes away from the\ndemolished church, and, under cover of smoke from the burning\nblockhouse, led the remnant of Yndios reducidos (who because they had\nlearned to pray had not forgotten how to fight) out of the enclosure by\na little postern-gate, and down the steep bank to the yellow thread of\nthe river below.\n\n\u201cMidway of the stream\u2014thridding the ankle-deep water\u2014they were, before\nthe red devils above discovered their flight. The demoniac yell from a\nthousand throats pushed them like a battering ram up the opposite bank,\nwhence, looking back, they saw the bed of the River Tockonhono swarming\nwith their foes. Then the Yndios reducidos opened their lips and began\nto chant the death-song of the Nainis; and the friar, lifting his hand,\ncommended their souls and his own to the God who gives and who takes\naway.\n\n\u201cBut, lo, a miracle!\n\n\u201cEven as the waves of the Red Sea\u2014opened by the rod of Moses for the\npassage of his people\u2014closed upon Pharaoh and his host, so, with the\nhoarse roar of a wild beast springing upon his prey, the foam-crested\nwall of water fell upon the Yndios bravos, and not a warrior of them\nall came forth from the river bed but as a bruised and beaten corpse.\n\n\u201cSo the friar, falling on his knees, gave thanks. And the river, which\nwas the Tockonhono, became from that day Los Brazos de Dios, which is\nto say, The Arms of God.\n\n\u201cSuch is the legend of the river.\u201d\n\n\n\nII\n\nHOW PERISHING SEAMEN NAMED THE RIVER\n\nThe following account comes from Mrs. A. F. Shannon of Velasco, who was\nreared near the mouth of the Brazos. Velasco, be it remembered, was, in\nancient days, a port of many ships\u2014the rival of Galveston. Whether or\nnot this legend is indigenous to the mouth of the Brazos cannot be\nasserted; however, it is but natural that in such a place the legend\nshould be connected with the sea.\n\nNow this is Mrs. Shannon\u2019s version: \u201cMy uncle said that he always heard\nthe story like this. A ship out in the Gulf was without water, and the\ncrew were parched with thirst. Suddenly, one of them saw a muddy\ncurrent reaching far out into the clear blue of the salt water. The\nship followed the current to a wide river, which was on a great rise\nand so threw its muddy waters far out to sea. It must have been a\nSpanish ship. The crew drank the saving fresh water, and in gratitude\nnamed the unknown stream Los Brazos de Dios\u2014the Arms of God.\u201d\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE GREAT DROUTH AND THE WATERS AT WACO\n\nThe third legend is connected with the famous \u201cBowie,\u201d or Los Almagres,\nMine on the San Saba. Like many other legends, it came to me from West\nBurton of Austin. He got it from an old man named White, now living out\nin the Big Bend country, but formerly of Mason or thereabouts.\nAccording to Burton, White got the account, written on a parchment,\nfrom a grateful old Mexican whom he had befriended in a spell of\nsickness. The Mexican claimed to have secured the parchment from his\ngrandfather, the date it bore being over one hundred and fifty years\nold. When the aged Mexican took sick on Mr. White\u2019s place in Mason\nCounty, he was traveling through the country with a crude Mexican cart\nand two burros, looking for two dugouts somewhere between the old San\nSaba Mission or mines and the site of the Waco Indian village, which\nwas located at about the present site of Waco. As the parchment reads,\nthirty-six (or it may be forty-six, Burton says) jack loads of silver\nbullion were buried in these two dugouts.\n\nIt was a time of terrible drouth. The drouth had lasted two years and\nthe little colony of Spaniards at San Saba had gone on mining with\ntheir captive Indians and their peons until the Indians had deserted,\nthe peons had died, and there was absolutely no water left in the river\nor springs. Each month the band of Spaniards hoped that the next new\nmoon would bring rain, but no rain came, and they knew that in the\nnearly always dry region towards Mexico, the drouth must be even worse.\nSo, instead of going south towards San Antonio as they would normally\nhave gone, the Spaniards set out eastward toward the village of the\nWaco Indians. They had often heard of a great river flowing by the\nWacos\u2019 camp, and there they hoped to find water. They left not a soul\nor a hoof behind, but packed on the burros their little store of\nprovisions and what bullion they had accumulated, well knowing that\nthey could not return until the drouth was broken.\n\nAt Las Chanas (the Llano), they found a dry bed; the Colorado was as\ndry as the top of a rock. Arrived at the Lampasas Springs, they found a\nlittle water, a great deal of mud, and dead buffaloes covering the\nground. They pulled some of the dead buffaloes out of the bog, got a\nlittle stinking water, and slowly moved on. But the burros were poor\nfrom want of grass and starved from want of water. To carry the heavy\nbullion much farther was impossible. The provisions had to be taken at\nany price. So two small dugouts were made in the side of a hill, the\nbullion was buried therein, and after the captain of the band had\ncalled on all to witness the marks of the place, the cavalcade moved\non.\n\nThe trail on eastward was marked by dead beasts and dead men, but at\nlast, depleted in numbers and wasted in fortune, the travelers arrived\nat the village of the Wacos. There they found a great river flowing\nclear and fresh, and when they had drunk and had seen their beasts\ndrink, they knelt down to give God thanks, and the padre with them\nblessed the stream and called it Los Brazos de Dios\u2014the Arms of God.\n\nThe Spanish built a kind of rude fort and waited. The drouth kept on\nfor three more years. Los Brazos still flowed clear and sweet, and\nmemories of the rich mines and the rich bullion left behind began to\ngrow dim. But at last the drouth broke and the grass and weeds sprang\nfrom the earth with a great rush. The grass grew so quickly that a\npowerful and fierce tribe of Indians was down upon the Spaniards before\nthey could leave. Their little settlement was annihilated. Only one man\nlived to get back to Mexico, and that years later when he was old and\nfeeble; he was so broken that he had no desire ever again to come into\nthe region of the terrible drouth. But a while before he died he wrote\nout on a piece of parchment the history of that search across the\ndesert for water, the directions, as well as he could give them, to the\nburied bullion, and this account of the settlement and disaster on the\nriver called Los Brazos de Dios. The hidden dugouts with their wealth\nhave never been found, and history has forgot to record that tragic\nepisode of the first Spanish settlement on the Brazos.\n\n\n\nIV\n\nA MIRACULOUS SWIM\n\nThe meager details of this legend were supplied by Mr. Charles B.\nQualia, Instructor in Spanish at the University of Texas. He says in\nexplanation: \u201cI heard or read the story when I was a child\u2014where or\nunder what circumstances, I know not.\u201d\n\nA Franciscan, so the legend goes, was running for his life from some\nterrible pursuer. He came to the river, which was so swollen and\nturbulent that no human being could hope to swim across it. The waters\nwere swirling around tree tops on the banks, and in the middle of the\nstream great drift trunks were sweeping by. Nevertheless, he plunged in\nand was miraculously enabled to reach the other side. After he had\nlooked at his helpless pursuer standing far away on the opposite bank\nand after he had gazed steadily at the waters he had escaped, he\nkneeled, and, thanking God, said that his deliverance was by \u201clos\nbrazos de Dios.\u201d After that time the phrase came to be applied to the\nriver.\n\nIn some way this version may be connected with the \u201cLegend of the\nMonk\u2019s Leap\u201d as told by Gustave Aimard, in his The Freebooters, A Story\nof the Texan War. [128] In this legend a pursued monk is helped over a\ngorge near Galveston by two angels. However, Aimard was one of the most\nbrazen liars that ever lived, and he probably made up the legend as\nfacilely as he made up history and geography.\n\n\n\nV\n\nARMS AVENGING AND SAVING\n\nThe following account from Kennedy\u2019s History of Texas [129] has been\ncontributed by Mr. E. G. Little John. As I have suggested, it may,\nafter all, be the original of the better known version quoted from Mrs.\nDavis. The endless confusion among the earlier Spanish regarding the\nnomenclature of rivers is fully set forth in the extract from Miss\nBuckley\u2019s article on the Aguayo Expedition already quoted. Thrall makes\nthe matter a little too simple perhaps when he says: \u201cThe Spaniards\ngave the name of Brazos de Dios to the Colorado, and Rio Colorado to\nthe Brazos, but blundering geographers afterwards interchanged their\nnames.\u201d [130] A French map dated 1733, in the University of Texas\narchives, has the Brazos River marked the \u201cTherese\u201d and the San Marcos\nthe \u201cSan Markos or Colorado.\u201d Mr. Littlejohn\u2019s \u201cIndian legend\u201d of a\nflood, which follows this legend, seems largely based on the early\nSpanish confusion of the Brazos and the Colorado.\n\n\u201cAbout thirty miles from the mouth of the San Saba, there was once a\nSpanish mission and fort, the destruction of which is thus recorded in\nMexican tradition:\n\n\u201cProsperity reigned at the post, which carried on an extensive trade\nwith the Comanche Indians, and a large revenue was derived from certain\nsilver mines in the vicinity. The mines occupied about one hundred\nlaborers; the post was protected by an equal number of soldiers, and\nthere were some women, who manufactured articles for the Indian trade.\nAt a time when all the soldiers, save about a dozen, were absent on an\nexpedition, the Comanches appeared, under pretense of traffic, and were\nadmitted to the fort in great numbers. At a signal from the chief, the\nIndians drew weapons concealed under their buffalo robes, and massacred\nthe small guard and the women. The laborers in the mines fled, and were\nbutchered in detail. The priest alone escaped, and by a miracle. The\nholy man having fled to the Colorado River, the waters divided,\npermitted him to pass through, and closed upon the pursuing Indians,\nconsigning them to a common grave. After great suffering, the priest\nreached the Spanish mission of San Juan, at that period the only\nsettlement on the San Antonio River. The absent soldiers, returning in\na few days to the fort, where lay the mingled bodies of their\ncompanions, found the banks of the Colorado covered with dead Indians,\nand as they could discern no marks of violence upon them, they\npronounced it a retributive miracle, and named the river Brazos de\nDios, or \u2018the Arm [sic] of God.\u2019 In the ignorance of after times, it\nreceived the name of Colorado, which previously distinguished the red\nand muddy stream now known as the Brazos. The preceding tradition is\ndevoutly believed by the old Mexicans about San Antonio.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE BRAZOS AND THE COLORADO ORIGINATED\n\nBy E. G. Littlejohn\n\n\n[It is hardly necessary to point out that this is not an undiluted\nIndian legend, the names and other elements in it showing Spanish and\neven American influence. La Salle is said to have called what is now\nthe Colorado \u201cThe River of Canes\u201d; the Indians\u2014and again we go back to\nThrall [131] for authority\u2014called it the \u201cPashohono.\u201d\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nThe following legend is an adaptation of \u201cAn Indian Legend of the\nFlood,\u201d signed by Jas. Spillane, reprinted a number of years ago in the\nGalveston News from the Philadelphia Times.\n\nLong, long ago, long before the coming of the white man, in all the\ncountry drained by the Brazos and the Colorado, there was but one great\nriver. It was a mighty stream, the Caney (Old Caney). To the east lived\nand hunted the Caranchuas; to the west the Ripas, the Lipans, and the\nTawakonies. The Wacos lived to the north. The Ripas were warlike and\npowerful. They made war on the Caranchuas and drove them far to the\neast, stealing their squaws, killing their young men, and forcing the\nremnant of the tribe to flee to the islands of the sea. Likewise the\nLipans, the Tawakonies, and the Wacos were driven from their hunting\ngrounds, and the Ripas were masters of the whole land.\n\nThe Great Spirit was angry with the Ripas. He sent a messenger to them\ntelling them to restore the squaws that they had stolen, and the horses\nand cattle, and to make no more war upon his other children. But the\nRipas would not listen. They thought themselves more powerful than the\nGreat Spirit himself, and determined to make war upon him. They sought\nout the messenger with defiance in their hearts, to challenge the Great\nSpirit to battle. But no messenger could be found. They searched the\nwoods, the prairies, the river, the sky, but he had left no trail.\n\nThen a great fear fell upon them, and some of the chiefs wanted to make\npeace with the Great Spirit. They called their wise men together to\ntake counsel as to what they should do to turn away the anger of the\nGreat Spirit. And while they held talk the heavens opened, the rain\nfell, the thunder roared, and the sky seemed all afire. In the midst of\nthe fire the messenger appeared, his face glowering, his hand raised in\nmenace. The Ripas threw themselves on their faces and begged the Great\nSpirit for mercy. And still the rain poured, the lightning flashed, the\nthunder crashed, and the whole earth rocked and shook as with an ague.\nThe water soon rose and covered the earth. Then the Ripas ran for the\ntrees. The wind blew down the trees and many of the Ripas were killed\nor drowned. The water rose higher and higher, and the rain and the\nthunder and the lightning lasted for many days. And there was no earth;\nall was water.\n\nThen the Great Spirit smiled. The Ripas were no more. The waters had\nswallowed them up. To the Caranchuas on the islands came the messenger.\nHe told them of the fate of the Ripas. He bade them return to their\nhomes.\n\nWhen the Caranchuas returned, all was changed. Where had been the great\nriver was now but a small stream, Caney. The great river was now two\nrivers, the white man\u2019s Brazos on the east, the red man\u2019s Colorado on\nthe west. Between the rivers were the hunting grounds of the\nCaranchuas, the gift of the Great Spirit.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMISCELLANEOUS LEGENDS\n\n\nTHE WHITE STEED OF THE PRAIRIES\n\nBy W. P. Webb\n\n\nThe wild horses of the plains were descendants of the Spanish horses\nthat escaped from the conquistadores of the sixteenth century. Under\nthe favorable conditions these horses multiplied and spread from Mexico\nand Texas up the great plains corridor to Canada. They went in large\nherds, each led by a stallion. Now, this stallion was leader because he\nwas the best horse in the herd. He led by fleetness of foot, by courage\nto fight, and by strength sufficient to kill or drive out every horse\nthat disputed his supremacy. Not only did he lead the horses, but he\nactually herded them, controlled them, dominated them. By the very law\nof survival he had to be unusual. Not only did he have to be strong and\nfleet, but he had to be wise and wary as well, full of good horse\nsense.\n\nWhen settlers began to push on to the plains of the West, and to\ncapture and domesticate wild horses, it was quite natural for the\nleaders of these herds to captivate the imagination of the vaqueros and\ncowboys. The stallion leader of the herd was the object of desire of\nevery man of the West. Where a man was little better than the horse he\nrode, he naturally desired a good horse above all else, save a saddle\nto house him under. Now, the leader of the herd was not only a good\nhorse; he was the best horse, with all the endurance, speed and\nintelligence that were so dear to the riders of the plains. These\nqualities made him the object of desire of every plainsman, and the\nhero among them was the man who could take the stallion leader. But to\ntake the leader today was not to destroy leadership. Tomorrow another\nstallion would lead the herd. There was always a leader. The individual\nhorse might be captured, but the quality of leadership could never be\ncaught\u2014it resided in the herd because it was a part of it. Now, it was\nthis quality of leadership that became the object of desire. But since\nthis quality of leadership could never be captured, the desire for it\nwas a desire for the unattainable, the impossible.\n\nOut of these conditions and facts grew the legend of the White Steed of\nthe Prairies, that superb horse, a super-horse that had all the\ndesirable and unusual qualities, all the speed, all the endurance, all\nthe beauty that imagination could give him. Since he had all these\nattributes, everybody wanted him, but nobody could take him. He was\nubiquitous, ethereal, a mere ideal, a phantom of the plainsman\u2019s mind,\nand he ranged from Canada to Mexico.\n\nOne of the best accounts of the White Steed of the Prairies, or the\nPacing White Stallion, as he was sometimes called, was given by\nKendall, [132] when writing of his experiences in Texas in 1841.\n\n\u201cMany were the stories,\u201d he says, \u201ctold that night in camp, by some of\nthe old hunters, of a large white horse that had often been seen in the\nvicinity of the Cross Timbers and near Red River. That many of these\nstories, like a majority of those told by gossiping campaigners, were\neither apocryphal or marvelously garnished, I have little doubt; but\nthat such a horse has been seen, and that he possesses wonderful speed\nand great powers of endurance, there is no reason to disbelieve. As the\ncamp stories ran, he has never been known to gallop or trot, but paces\nfaster than any horse that has been sent out after him can run; and so\ngame and untiring is the \u2018White Steed of the Prairies,\u2019 for he is well\nknown to trappers and hunters by that name, that he has tired down no\nless than three race-nags, sent expressly to catch him, with a Mexican\nrider well trained to the business of taking wild horses.\u00a0*\u00a0*\u00a0*\n\n\u201cThe Mexican who was sent out to take the wild steed, although he\nmounted a fresh horse as the one he was riding became tired, was never\nnear enough the noble animal to throw a slip-noose over his head, or\neven to drive him into a regular gallop. Some of the hunters go so far\nas to say that the white steed has been known to pace his mile in less\nthan two minutes, and that he can keep up this rate of speed until he\nhas tired down everything in pursuit. Large sums of money have been\noffered for his capture, and the attempt has been frequently made; but\nhe still roams his native prairies in freedom, solitary and alone. The\nfact of his being always found with no other horse in company is\naccounted for, by an old hunter, on the ground that he is too proud to\nbe seen with those of his class, being an animal far superior in form\nand action to any of his brothers. This I put down as a rank\nembellishment, although it is a fact that the more beautiful and highly\nformed mustangs are frequently seen alone.\u201d [133]\n\nKendall\u2019s account in the New Orleans Picayune inspired the poet to sing\nof this wonderful horse. The following, by J. Barber, appeared in The\nDemocratic Review for April, 1843: [134]\n\n\n    THE WHITE STEED OF THE PRAIRIES\n\n    Mount, mount for the chase! let your lassos be strong,\n    And forget not sharp spur and tough buffalo thong;\n    For the quarry ye seek hath oft baffled, I ween,\n    Steeds swift as your own, backed by hunters as keen.\n\n    Fleet barb of the prairie, in vain they prepare\n    For thy neck, arched in beauty, the treacherous snare;\n    Thou wilt toss thy proud head, and with nostrils stretched wide,\n    Defy them again, as thou still hast defied.\n\n    Trained nags of the course, urged by rowel and rein,\n    Have cracked their strong thews in the pursuit in vain;\n    While a bow-shot in front, without straining a limb,\n    The wild courser careered as \u2019twere pastime to him.\n\n    Ye may know him at once, though a herd be in sight,\n    As he moves o\u2019er the plain like a creature of light\u2014\n    His mane streaming forth from his beautiful form\n    Like the drift from a wave that has burst in the storm.\n\n    Not the team of the Sun, as in fable portrayed,\n    Through the firmament rushing in glory arrayed,\n    Could match, in wild majesty, beauty and speed,\n    That tireless, magnificent, snowy-white steed.\n\n    Much gold for his guerdon, promotion and fame,\n    Wait the hunter who captures that fleet-footed game;\n    Let them bid for his freedom, unbridled, unshod,\n    He will roam till he dies through these pastures of God.\n\n    And ye think on his head your base halters to fling!\n    So ye shall\u2014when yon Eagle has lent you his wing;\n    But no slave of the lash that your stables contain\n    Can e\u2019er force to a gallop the steed of the Plain!\n\n    His fields have no fence save the mountain and sky;\n    His drink the snow-capped Cordilleras supply;\n    \u2019Mid the grandeur of nature sole monarch is he,\n    And his gallant heart swells with the pride of the free.\n\n\nThe legend of the White Steed of the Prairies has almost died out. One\ncan pick it up now only from the older generation, from those who have\nrecollections of the open country when Texas was held together by\nrawhide and dominated by horsemen. When one of these early Texans was\nasked if he had heard of the Pacing White Stallion, he replied: \u201cYes, I\nhave heard of him from the Canadian to the Llano.\u201d But one finds little\nvariation in these stories. There is no room for the White Steed of the\nPrairies in a country where horses are no longer wild and free. He is\nnow all but a forgotten memory of a past unreality. [135]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF SAM BASS\n\nBy W. P. Webb\n\n\n            Sam Bass was born in Indiana\u2014that was his native home,\n            And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam.\n            He first came out to Texas, a teamster for to be;\n            A kinder hearted fellow you scarcely ever see.\n\n\nThis bit of biography of the Texas bandit was probably the first poem\nthe writer learned outside the home circle. He learned it at the age\nwhen it was a great privilege to be permitted to pad along in the\nfreshly plowed furrow at the heels of the hired man, Dave. Not only was\nDave the hired man, he was a neighbor\u2019s boy, and such a good poker\nplayer that he developed later into a professional gambler. But at the\ntime I write of Dave was my tutor in Texas history, poetry, and music,\nall of which revolved around Sam Bass. To me and to Dave, Sam Bass was\nan admirable young man who raced horses, robbed banks, held up trains,\nand led a life filled with other strange adventure. At length, this\nhero came to an untimely end through a villain named Murphy, \u201cwho gave\npoor Sam away.\u201d It was a story calculated to capture the imagination of\nyoung men and small boys. All over Texas hired men were teaching small\nboys the legend of Sam Bass, a story which improved in the telling\naccording to the ability of the teller.\n\nNot only was the story thus told. Men of high station in life, the\nlawyers, judges, and oldtimers, congregated around the courthouse of\nthis western county and told of how Sam rode through the country at\nnight after one of his daring robberies. Once a posse organized to go\nout and take Sam Bass. The leader of the posse was a lawyer, a smart\nman, and he knew exactly where Sam could be found and how he could be\ntaken. He bravely placed himself at the head of a group of heavily\narmed men; he assured them that they would take the bandit and share\nthe liberal reward that had been set on his head. They rode away into\nthe night, they approached the lair of the fugitive; they knew they had\nhim\u2014at least the leader knew it. But that was the trouble. Sam did not\nrun; therefore, the posse could not pursue. Sam seemed too willing to\nbe approached; that willingness was ominous. Sam was such a good shot,\nso handy with a gun. The posse paused, it halted, consulted with the\nleader. The leader\u2019s voice had lost its assurance. The posse that had\nridden up the hill now rode down again. Sam Bass could not be found!\nAnd until this day, when old-timers get together in that county some\none is sure to tell the story of that hunt. The wag of the courthouse,\na lawyer, reduced it to writing, and on such public occasions as\npicnics and barbecues, he will read the account of \u201cHow Bill Sebasco\nTook Sam Bass.\u201d It was cleverly done and made as great hit with the\npublic as did Dave\u2019s rendition of the song and story to the small boy.\nIn both cases all sympathy was with Sam Bass, all opinion against\nMurphy and Bill Sebasco.\n\nThus in West Texas, from the judge in the courthouse to the small boy\nin the furrow behind the hired man, was the story of Sam Bass told.\nWhat was taking place in this county was occurring, with proper\nvariations, in every other county in the state, especially in those of\nthe north and west. The legend of Sam Bass was in the process of\nbecoming. Today it would fill a volume.\n\nFew are the facts known relative to Sam Bass, but some of them are\nthese: Samuel Bass was from Indiana. He was born July 21, 1851, came to\nTexas, raced horses, made his headquarters in Denton County,\nparticipated in some bank robberies and train holdups. He became the\nrecognized leader of his band and enjoyed a wide reputation, which he\nachieved before he was twenty-seven years old. In the summer of 1878 he\nleft Denton County with the intention of robbing a bank or train. With\nhim were Murphy, the man who had arranged to sell him out to the\nofficers of the law, also Seaborn Barnes and Frank Jackson. The plan\nwas made to rob the Round Rock bank on Saturday, July 20, 1878. En\nroute to Round Rock, Murphy sent a note to Major John B. Jones,\nadjutant general of Texas, giving their plan. The result was that when\nBass reached Round Rock the town was full of Texas Rangers and other\nofficers of the law. On Friday Bass with Jackson and Barnes went into\nRound Rock to look over the ground before their attempt to rob. While\npurchasing tobacco in a store adjoining the bank, they were accosted by\nofficers of the law, and a battle ensued. Barnes was killed on the\nspot, along with an officer. Bass escaped with a mortal wound, was\nfound next day in the woods, and died the following day, Sunday, July\n21, 1878. On that day he was twenty-seven. Frank Jackson made good his\nescape and has never been heard from since.\n\nFrom these facts, the legend of Sam Bass has grown. Legend and fact are\ninextricably mixed. I shall make no effort to separate the one from the\nother, but shall set all down, much as I heard it.\n\nBass died gamely, as he lived. He refused to give any of his comrades\naway, though he was rational until the end. \u201cIf a man knows any\nsecrets,\u201d he said, \u201che should die and go to hell with them in him.\u201d\nBass said that he had never killed a man, unless he killed the officer\nin Round Rock. Frank Jackson wanted to remain and help Bass, but the\nlatter, knowing he was near the end, persuaded Jackson to leave him,\nand gave him his horse to ride.\n\nBass and his men had camped near some negro cabins at Round Rock, not\nfar from the cemetery. Bass had an old negro woman, Aunt Mary Matson,\nto cook some biscuits for him and to grind some coffee. When she had\ndone this, Bass gave her a dollar. He then asked, \u201cHave you ever heard\nof Sam Bass?\u201d She told him she had. \u201cWell, you can tell them you saw\nSam Bass,\u201d he said, and went away.\n\nHis generosity was well known. He always paid for what he got from\nindividuals. He was particularly considerate of poor people. He would\ngive a poor woman a twenty-dollar gold piece for a dinner and take no\nchange. He paid the farmers well for the horses he took from them,\nthough sometimes he did not have time to see the farmer.\n\nSam Bass relics are scattered over the country, everywhere. Some say\nthat he gave his gun to Frank Jackson. Others declare he surrendered it\nto the officers who found him. His belt with some cartridges in it is\nin the library of the University of Texas. A carpenter at Snyder has a\nhorseshoe from Bass\u2019s best race horse nailed to the top of his tool\nchest. Near Belton are some live oak trees that Bass is said to have\nshot his initials in while riding at full speed. Horns of steers\nsupposed to have been killed by Bass sell over the country at fancy\nprices. In Montague County there is a legend of $30,000 of loot buried\nby Sam Bass. Again, he is supposed to have left treasure in the Llano\ncountry. At McNeill, near Austin, there is a cave in which Sam Bass hid\nwhen he was in retirement. There he kept his horses and from there he\nmade his forays.\n\nFinally, when Sam was dead, legend wrote an epitaph on his monument\nwhich is not there. The legendary epitaph reads:\n\n\u201cWould That He Were Good as He was Brave.\u201d No such inscription can be\ndeciphered on Bass\u2019s monument. The monument has been badly mutilated by\nsouvenir collectors, but the inscription remains.\n\n\n                          Samuel Bass\n                             Born\n                         July 21, 1851\n                             Died\n                         July 21, 1878\n                         Aged 27 Years\n\n\nIn the lower right hand corner of the block on which the inscription\nappears is the name of the maker, C. B. Pease, Mitchell, Indiana. The\npeople of Round Rock say that the monument was erected by a member of\nhis family about a year after Bass\u2019s death.\n\nMore interesting than Bass\u2019s rather pretentious monument is that of his\ncomrade, Seaborn Barnes, who sleeps the long sleep by his side. A rough\nsandstone stands at the head of this grave. It has been chipped away\nuntil the name is gone. The inscription, however, remains along with\nthe date of his death. Were there no legend of Sam Bass in Texas, this\ninscription would make one. It is written in language Bass would have\nloved; it has a certain impertinence to law abiding people in the\nnearby graves, a certain pride in the leader at whose heels Barnes\ndied. The epitaph contains seven words. The spirit of the person who\nwrote the seven words of that epitaph is the spirit that has created\nthe legend of Sam Bass in Texas.\n\n\n                    He Was Right Bower to Sam Bass\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE HORN WORSHIPERS\n\nBy L. D. Bertillion\n\n\n[From an ethnological point of view, the legend, or more properly myth,\nof \u201cThe Horn Worshipers\u201d is the most interesting in this collection of\nlegends. None of the scholars at the annual meeting of the American\nAnthropological Society held in New York, December, 1923, knew any\nparallel for it among the aborigines of America.\n\nHowever, horns have been significant among many primitive peoples. Many\nof the Plains Indians of America, notably the Sioux, wore buffalo\nhorns, and if I mistake not the totem of one tribe was a head of\nbuffalo horns. However, the buffalo horn was to the Plains Indian\nmerely a symbol of the power that he admired, an emblem of the animal\nthat he was so far dependent on for food and shelter. In the Asia\nMagazine for December, 1922, is a picture of a pair of ox-horns\nfastened over the entrance to a village near Rodosto, Turkey. The horns\nso fastened are said to bring good luck to those who pass under them.\n\nThe medicinal properties ascribed to horns among primitive peoples have\na corollary interest here. In a letter accompanying his legend of \u201cThe\nHorn Worshipers,\u201d Mr. Bertillion says: \u201cAs late as ten years ago I\nbought a beautiful pair of buck horns, several points of which I had to\nsharpen because they had been sawed off a half inch or more for the\npurpose of curing some disease, which, to the best of my memory, was\nmeasles, the cure being a dose of pulverized horn, about a\nteaspoonful.\u201d\n\nIn the same letter, Mr. Bertillion encloses a clipping from a\nsyndicated article appearing in the McKinney, Texas, Examiner, November\n9, 1922, which tells of an Indian rhinoceros horn presented to Pope\nGregory XIV in 1590 as a protection against poisoning. According to the\narticle, \u201cThe horn given to the pope by the prior and brothers of the\nmonastery of St. Mary of Guadalupe in Spain, was credited with sweating\nin the presence of poison, by the way of warning, and if powdered and\ntaken internally, with acting as an antidote. The tip is missing. It\nwas cut off in 1591 and administered to the pope in his last illness.\u201d\n\nI myself recall as a pioneer remedy for distemper in horses, the smoke\nof burning horn-chips and rags, funneled through a horn up the horse\u2019s\nnostrils. The Mexicans sometimes used the same remedy for colds.\n\nThe underground palace of this legend of \u201cThe Horn Worshipers\u201d is a\nfeature common to the lore of many peoples. \u201cThe Aztecs,\u201d says Lewis\nSpence, [136] \u201cbelieved that the first men emerged from a palace known\nas Chicomoztoc (The Seven Caverns), located north of Mexico. Various\nwriters have seen in these mystic recesses the fabulous \u2018seven cities\nof Cibola\u2019 and the Casas Grandes, ruins of extensive character in the\nvalley of the River Gila, and so forth.\u201d [137] Then Spence adds a\ncomment on the number seven pertinent also to the legend of \u201cThe Horn\nWorshipers\u201d: \u201cThe allusion to the magical number seven in the myth\ndemonstrates that the entire story is purely imaginary and possesses no\nbasis of fact.\u201d\n\nThe legend of the underground palace has various forms even in Texas.\nThere are rumors of an underground palace near Leander in Williamson\nCounty and of another on the Blanco River. Some such story is connected\nwith the Devil\u2019s Cave on the Devil\u2019s River; with a vast underground\npassage that workmen are said to have discovered while excavating for\nthe foundation of the second Austin dam; and with the Carlsbad Mammoth\nCave, located on the Texas-New Mexico line in the Guadalupe Mountains.\n\nMr. Bertillion says that he knows a man who claims to have discovered\nabout fifteen years ago a great house within a mountain in West Texas,\nperhaps a hundred and fifty feet below the surface. This man was out\nwith a surveyor. Searching for a place to set up the flagpole, he\ndiscovered a small hole in a rock, \u201cnot larger than an ordinary apple.\u201d\nSecretly, he flashed sunlight into the hole by means of a pocket\nmirror, and down in a great cave he beheld a wonderful edifice. The\ndetails he has kept secret, for he intends to return to the place some\nday and make his fortune.\n\nBack in the sixties, according to his own account, a Mexican living in\nFort Stockton (1911) was carrying the mail between Fort Davis and El\nPaso. On one trip a band of Indians led by some renegade Mexicans\nconfiscated his mail and express, burned the mail coach, and took him\nand his horses into an unknown region afterward identified as the\nGuadalupe Mountains. There, high up on a barren peak, he discovered\nsome giant mahogany logs, \u201cso big that there never has been a car on\nthe Southern Pacific Railroad that could have hauled one of them.\u201d\nQuery: For what else than the palace of the Horn Worshipers could these\nmighty logs have been transported to that region?\n\nFinally, the palace of the Horn Worshipers inevitably suggests the\ngreat legend of the Cave of Montezuma, a version of which follows\nthis.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nI am a great lover of horns and have collected and sold many fine\npairs. In order to make my collections I have had to keep constantly\ninquiring for specimens. On one such expedition, a good many years ago,\ndown on the border, I met a very old Yaqui Mexican, by the name of\nPedro Osabia, as I remember.\n\nWhen I made inquiry after long-horned cattle, he told me that the\nlong-horned cattle were all dead and that their worshipers were all\ndead, but that the spirits of the Horn Worshipers never die, but enter\ninto new men when the bodies they inhabit decay. He said that if I\ncontinued strong in the worship, some day I would find plenty of long\nhorns.\n\nFurther interrogation brought out the story that long years ago\u2014more\nyears than man can count\u2014this whole world belonged to one man, and that\nthis one man lived in a grand temple, such as men do not know how to\nbuild any more, and that this temple is located inside one of the great\npeaks of the Jeff Davis Mountains. This Ruler of the whole world had\nhis subjects scattered over all the earth wherever caves could be found\nor made in cliffs. And every seven years these subjects journeyed from\ntheir caves and their cliffs to the Great Palace to worship, each\nworshiper bringing the longest horns he had collected from any animal\nduring the seven years. Then the horns were hung in the great hall of\nhorn worship, and the Supreme Ruler stood amidst the horns as judge.\nThe man bringing the longest horns received the first blessing and was\nnot subject to the laws of the great Ruler for seven years, and those\nbringing the second and the third longest horns received second and\nthird blessings and were immune from the laws for five and for three\nyears. Furthermore, those who willfully refused to bring horns to the\ngeneral worship were made servants of those bringing the longest horns\nto the shrine, and would eventually become dead in soul, thus losing\nthe power to rise after death and enjoy the great horn worship in the\nwide, free spaces and the open air, where search for food would no\nlonger be a necessity.\n\nFinally, though, a great bird came and flew to the cliffs, and\ndestroyed the dwellers throughout the world, and then, when none came\nto worship at the great palace, the great Ruler died of grief. Our\npresent race is the offspring from a man who had been banished from\nsome colony for his refusal to contribute horns and to join in their\nworship. Consequently, the great bird on his flight of destruction\nmissed this outcast, who, having lost his blessing through neglect to\nworship, was doomed, he and all his generations, to work for a living.\n\nBefore he died of his grief the great Owner of the world, knowing that\nsome day the mountain would decay and the deserted palace be exposed,\nplaced a magic wand in the greatest horn in the great horn room. It is\nthere now, waiting for the hand of some one of the soulless to touch\nit. Finally when the horn is touched, it will rise into space and draw\nall those who worshiped in full faith to the great horn worship above,\nwhere manual labor and death shall be forever unknown.\n\nSuch is the story of the first world of men, who were probably the\nCliff Dwellers, or the Horn Worshipers!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAVE OF MONTEZUMA\n\nBy Leeper Gay\n\n\n[This legendary \u201cCave of Montezuma\u201d is in Mexico, but so persistent and\nnumerous are rumors of it across the border in Texas that I do not\nhesitate to include it among Texas legends. Mr. Gay knows many legends,\nand he has told me that he has often heard Texans mention Montezuma\u2019s\nCave; I myself have heard of it from treasure hunters in Texas. Indeed,\nlegend has placed an Aztec cave, presumably Montezuma\u2019s, in Texas. I am\nindebted to Mr. W. D. Notley, superintendent of public schools at Del\nRio, for the following account:\n\nOn the south edge of Del Rio there is a mound of considerable size\ncalled Sugar Loaf. Legend has it that it was built by the Aztecs and\nstored with treasures. In the troublesome times that followed the\nconquest by the Spanish, the Aztecs built an acequia (irrigation ditch)\naround it, or alongside it, so as to cut off entrance through the\nsubterranean passage that once led to the great storehouse.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nI have at last learned one complete version of the legend of the\nMontezuma Cave. It cost me seven hours\u2019 hard work, a delay of\ntwenty-four hours in getting home, a deal of cheap drink, a headache,\nand the suspicion of my relatives; but the man who told me the story\nwas alone worth the price. He is a broken-down newspaper man, \u201cwhose\nstory is the story of every man that ever went down into Mexico. It is\nthe story of a coward, the story of a man with a yellow streak down his\nback.\u201d I was sitting on the plaza at Juarez, absorbed in a religious\ndance of the Festival, which was being held in front of the cathedral\nby people dressed as Indians, when Alec Martin came strolling along and\nsat down beside me. He was a colorless blond, white-faced, and rather\nsmall of figure, his neat dress falling into untidiness. His pale blue\neyes were supplemented with powerful shell-rimmed spectacles, and as\nthey continued to watch the dancers, I asked him how he liked the\ndancing. \u201cBut you should see the Festival of la Cruz Verde, at Tepic,\u201d\nhe replied without turning his head. From this auspicious beginning, we\ndrifted into conversation, and he told me the legend of the Cathedral\nde la Cruz Verde. It is a simple story, such as, he explained, overruns\nMexico. Observing that he wore no overcoat, although the day was cold,\nand that he shivered at frequent intervals, I suggested a hot Tom and\nJerry. He was not slow in accepting, and since I had begun to find his\ncompany excellent, I suggested another, and then a glass of Bordeaux as\na lid. He seemed quite shame-faced about not paying for the drinks, and\nsomehow I believed him when he told me that, whatever he was at\npresent, he had been a gentleman at one time.\n\nHe could not stay away from the subject of Mexico for long at a time,\nand since he continued to tell me legends, I asked him for the one\nabout the Montezuma Cave. The liquor that he had taken in the course of\nthe day had begun to affect him, but he would not say anything about\nthe Montezuma Cave except that it had broken him. Presently he insisted\nthat he take me to a bar up next to the Market, where he had credit. I\nwent with him, and we began to drink sotol, which is said to be a fiery\nliquor, but which I found no worse than red whiskey. But whenever I\nasked him for the particulars of his story, he would say: \u201cBut that is\nnot the important thing; a drink is all that matters.\u201d In the course of\ntime, however, he became thoroughly inebriated, as he confessed to me\nin a precise, though sometimes uncertain voice. Finally, while my\nrelatives waited in El Paso and my train left without me, he told his\nstory and the legend of the Montezuma Cave. This is the legend that he\ntold me.\n\nWhen Montezuma was killed by Cortez at the City of Mexico, the room\nfull of gold that had been offered as a ransom for Montezuma was too\nheavy for Cortez to carry with him in his flight to the coast.\nMontezuma had foreseen this, and before his death had ordered that the\ngold be stored safely, where it could lie without danger until his tree\nfell and he came back to save his people. The Aztec generals, having\nseen the lack of respect for their gods that the Spaniards had shown,\nwere afraid to bury the treasure in the tomb of Montezuma, and instead\nhad it taken to a cave in the mountains. This cave was at the end of a\nlong canyon, a mere crack in the rock only a few feet wide, although\nthe walls were hundreds of feet high. At the mouth the canyon was\ntwelve feet wide, but it became narrower toward the cave, until there\nwas not passage for a man, unless he crawled on his belly for the last\nfew hundred yards. The Indians worshiped the cave as a shrine after the\ntreasure of Montezuma had been stored there, and made pilgrimages to\nit, although none but priests were allowed to enter the cave itself.\nThe guardians disposed of unwelcome visitors by dropping rocks on them\nas they wormed up the narrow canyon.\n\nAfter the Aztecs perished as a nation, the cave was in Yaqui territory,\nwhat was called the Sonora Mountains, and the Yaquis continued to guard\nthe shrine. Renegades and half-breeds sometimes whispered the story of\nthe cave to the Spaniards, but since none of the men who went to hunt\nfor it ever returned, the story became a legend.\n\nSome hundreds of years later, a very drunk Mexican told the story to\nMartin, who remembered it the next day. At that time he was a\ncorrespondent to certain American newspapers, and when he told the\nstory to two of his friends, they wanted to go after the treasure\nimmediately. The Mexican agreed to go with them, and claimed to know\nwhere the cave was, having seen the canyon for himself. The expedition\nwas so carefully planned and executed that the little party camped\nwithin a few miles of the cave without being discovered by the Indians.\nThat night they went into the cave, taking water and food enough to\nlast them the following day. The next night they came out safely, each\ncarrying about one hundred and fifty pounds of gold. Their good fortune\ndid not desert them, and they were out of Yaqui country before the loss\nwas discovered. When they arrived at the City, they cashed the gold for\nforty thousand dollars apiece, and for some months lived in great\nstate.\n\nThen, having spent all of their fortune, they decided to return to the\nMontezuma Cave and to bring out a little more this time. This gold was\nto be invested, so that each could live off his interest. As they had\ndone before, they camped a few miles from the mouth of the canyon, and\nentered the cave at night. The next night they started out of the\ncanyon, but as they stepped out on the plain in front of the canyon,\nthey were taken quietly in charge by the Yaquis, who had watched them\nfrom the time that they had first come into the country. The Mexican\nwas sacrificed to the old gods, for he was part Indian and had betrayed\nthe secret of the cave, but the Americans were first tortured and then\nkept about the camp as slaves. In a few weeks two of them died. Martin\nfinally escaped, but not until he was broken physically.\n\nFrom that day on, his bad luck had followed him. He had come back to El\nPaso, on his way to Mexico, but on the morning that he arrived, he had\nbroken the mirror in his room and the friends that he had expected did\nnot arrive. His savings had gradually dribbled away, until he had sold\nhis watch and pawned his overcoat, with winter almost at hand.\n\nWhen the story was finished, Martin added, somewhat lamely: \u201cThis\nMexico has broken me; it\u2019s made a bum and a drunkard out of me, but I\nlove it. I can\u2019t stay away from it. I\u2019ve been out of it fifteen months\nthis time, and now I\u2019m going into it again.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST CORN CROP IN TEXAS\n\nBy A. W. Eddins\n\n\nHave you ever heard how Grandma when she was a young girl made the\nfirst corn crop in Texas, and how the only tools she had to make it\nwith were a hound dog and a big stick? This is the way she told the\nstory.\n\nAfter Stephen F. Austin had secured the grant of land for his colony in\nTexas, he returned to his home and gathered the families to settle it.\nHe leased the schooner Lively at New Orleans, loaded it with farm tools\nand supplies, and sent it to the mouth of the Colorado River to meet\nthe colonists. The Lively was lost, and no word of her or her crew has\never been heard. [138]\n\nMeanwhile, Grandma and her family were on their way in an ox wagon. She\nwalked nearly all the way with her sister behind the wagon. They\nentered Texas at the Red River, and reached the mouth of the Colorado\nabout Christmas. Here they built a cabin and waited in vain for the\nLively. The men hunted and the women kept house. They ate venison for\nbread and fresh bear steak for meat. They needed bread, but had no\ntools for planting the corn.\n\nNow the Colorado River bottom was covered with a heavy growth of reed\ncane. The dogs ran a bear into this canebrake and the boys set it on\nfire, and as it burned the cane popped and roared like guns in a\nbattle. When the fire was out, where the canebrake had been was a\nwonderfully clean field, covered with ashes and as loose and mellow as\nplowed land.\n\nGrandma took a sharp stick and punched the holes, and her sister\ndropped a grain of corn in each hole and then covered it with her foot.\nIn a few days a beautiful crop of corn was growing, but the ground was\nalso covered with young shoots of cane. The planters had neither plow\nnor hoe but they took big sticks and went in the field and knocked down\nall the tender cane shoots; they did this three times and then the corn\nwas big enough to shade out the cane. But when the roasting ears began\nto make, the coons began to destroy the crop. So Grandma tied an old\nhound dog in the midst of the corn field, and he barked all night and\nscared the varmints away. The colonists soon had plenty of bread, and\nbefore time to plant the next crop they had secured farming tools from\nthe East.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLA CASA DEL SANTA ANNA\n\nBy A. W. Eddins\n\n\nThe children in the Navarro School of San Antonio often express some\noriginal and interesting ideas in their Texas history classes. They do\nnot know such a thing as the Alamo; to them it is \u201cLa Casa del Santa\nAnna\u201d (Santa Anna\u2019s house), and they have many interesting stories of\nwhat \u201cmi padre grande\u201d said about this old landmark in Texas history\nand the remarkable things that have happened there.\n\nA very interesting story that seems to be known and believed by nearly\nall the pupils is that of the old cave, or underground passage, that\nformerly connected the Alamo with the San Pedro Springs. The entrance\nto this cave was covered with a big round stone in the very middle of\nthe Alamo. By lifting the stone and going down the steps and following\nthe dark, crooked path, first down, then up, through some water and\nsome mud, one finally came out in a clump of bushes near the big spring\nin what is now the San Pedro Park. The priests often used this passage\nto communicate with their friends when the Indians made it unsafe to\nleave the Alamo by any other way.\n\nSanta Anna learned about it from an old priest, and by this means was\nable to get his men inside of the Alamo on the last, fatal day of the\nsiege. Since that time the cave has been partly filled and cannot be\nused any more, but the place where it formerly opened in the park is\nstill pointed out by the old people, and the children are strong in\ntheir belief of its existence.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLOST CANYON OF THE BIG BEND COUNTRY\n\nBy J. Frank Dobie\n\n\nI\n\nThe legend of a lost canyon somewhere in the Big Bend country has had a\nlong and wide circulation. When I was in the Big Bend country some\nfourteen years ago I heard of it as being \u201can old story.\u201d A version of\nthe legend came out in the Western Story Magazine, December 2, 1922.\nEarly in 1923, the \u201cCattle Clatter\u201d department of the San Antonio\nExpress reprinted an enlarged version of the Western Story Magazine\nlegend, giving its source as the New York World. A syndicated feature\narticle was probably the source of both versions.\n\nAccording to the World legend, a Mexican by the name of Lopez had come\ninto Sanderson from an exploring expedition initiated on the Mexican\nside of the Rio Grande. He and a Mexican vaquero had followed up a\ngorge that emptied into the Rio Grande until the gorge widened out into\na green valley, an oasis, wherein were grazing a herd of perhaps five\nhundred buffaloes.\n\nIn all of the legends the valley is stocked with buffaloes,\nnotwithstanding the fact that buffaloes were never in the Big Bend\ncountry. [139] The wild and inaccessible nature of this country,\nhowever, gives color to the idea of a lost canyon. Maps in the State\nLand Office at Austin still show a stretch of unsurveyed territory\nalong the river. Akin to \u201cLost Canyon\u201d must be the \u201cLost Mountains,\u201d\nwhich are said to lie beyond the Davis Mountains.\n\nThe idea of a \u201clost\u201d land is probably as old as any legend of mankind;\nit luxuriates in the lore of modern seamen; but it may not be generally\nknown that regions of the modern West other than the Big Bend also\nclaim \u201clost\u201d areas. No longer ago than February 2, 1923, the San\nAntonio Express published a news story to the effect that Zane Grey had\ndiscovered a lost plateau in Arizona inhabited by mustangs that had\nsome secret pass, unknown to man, down to water in the valley. Six days\nearlier the same newspaper printed a dispatch from Scenic, South\nDakota, descriptive of a legendary oasis in an uncharted Bad Lands.\nAccording to a tradition handed down by the Sioux Indians, inaccessible\nbluffs and walls enclose a garden-like place \u201crich in food, sunlight,\nwarmth and pure running water.\u201d Before the coming of the pale-faces\nthis protected spot was the home of Wankinyan (the Thunder Bird), and\nno man has ever entered it to return. The story suggests that the\nlegend of the Lost Canyon in the Big Bend may be of Indian origin.\n\nThere is a legend connected with another secret canyon of the upper Rio\nGrande country that seems to owe its existence to the Indians. Walter\nB. Stevens in his Through Texas, published in 1892, tells of \u201cThe\nMystery of Diablo Canyon.\u201d [140] The canyon, so the legend goes, was\nsacred to the Indians, and only a few of their number knew its nature.\nIn it was an abundance of game and of pure water, but no white man\ncould ever find the water. Dry hides, sprinkled with sod and covered\nwith grass, concealed it cunningly.\n\n\n\nII\n\nWest Burton of South Austin and I were on a hunting trip down below San\nAntonio. The talk had been, as usual, on old days and lost mines and\ntrails. I brought up the subject of Lost Canyon. \u201cYes,\u201d said he, \u201cI\nhave heard of the place many times, but I never believed that it\nexisted till I met an old prospector in Mexico who had once been in the\nplace.\n\n\u201cThis prospector was a broke man when I saw him, broke in more ways\nthan one, but he could tell his story straight. He was prospecting down\nthe Rio Grande in a skiff or canoe, putting in at various canyons and\ngorges to examine for minerals. At a certain rapids his boat got\nsnagged so that he could not fix it, and there was nothing for him to\ndo but to strike out afoot. He made up a small pack of a blanket and\nsome provisions, and with a rifle struck north up a steep ravine,\nintending somehow to reach the Southern Pacific Railroad.\n\n\u201cThe ravine that he took up was so narrow and rough that in some places\nhe could hardly travel, but after a while it began to open out, and\nimagine his surprise when it spread into a kind of basin that stretched\nout farther than he could see. The grass in it was as green as a wheat\nfield, though there was a drouth on, as usual, and there were springs\nof pure, sweet water; but the thing that made him rub his eyes was a\nherd of buffaloes, perhaps a hundred or more. The prospector killed one\nfor meat, and camped for two or three days by a spring, while he got a\ngood fill of the meat and jerked as much as he could take with him.\nThen he set out towards the north again.\n\n\u201cHe found when he tried to get out that the basin was rimmed in by a\nhigh bluff up which there was apparently no trail. But after he had\ntrailed himself around a good deal, he discovered a kind of gorge that\nhe climbed out through. No buffalo could ever get out or in through it,\nhe said. When he got up on top of the rim he was in the Chisos\nMountains, unfenced, even unclaimed, some of them, I guess. He was in a\ncountry that no outpost of a range rider ever comes into, that no\ntrapper has ever entered. There\u2019s no reason why a human being should go\ninto that country. The wonder to me is that this prospector tried to\nmake his way over it. His way was crookeder than a devil\u2019s walking\ncane\u2014if you have ever seen one of them. They are about the only things\nthat grow in that country, you know. But he kept on generally north. He\nnearly perished for water, and only the moisture of the jerked buffalo\nthat he had had sense enough not to salt kept him from parching to\ndeath. He threw away all of his pack but that jerkie.\n\n\u201cFinally, somehow, by the help of the Lord, he reached the railroad\nsomewhere between Sanderson and Marathon, and as luck would have it, he\nstumbled right into the camp of a construction gang. The cook of the\noutfit was an old Mexican who had worked for his father and knew him.\nThis cook gave the prospector only a little beef broth and would not\nlet him have that except in sips. And so in a few days he got over his\nterrible experience.\n\n\u201cFrom the camp he went on to Sanderson and actually raised an\nexpedition to go back and find the canyon of buffalo. But he never\ncould find the way back across to it. He says that he knows now that\nthe only way ever to reach it is to enter it from the Rio Grande, up\nthat narrow gorge.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nA TRADITION OF LA SALLE\u2019S EXPEDITION INTO TEXAS\n\nBy Alex. Dienst\n\n\nThe original of the letter that follows is in my possession, having\nbeen given to me by Governor George C. Pendleton, to whom it is\naddressed. It is my impression that the writer of this letter was, in\n1891, connected with the Department of Statistics, History, and\nInsurance, at Austin. De Le\u00f3n could not have been \u201cGovernor of Texas\nand Coahuila\u201d in 1688, for the states were not united until long\nafterward. [141]\n\n\n                                                         Austin, Texas,\n                                                   September 9th, 1891\n\n    Hon. Geo. C. Pendleton,\n        Belton, Texas.\n\n    Dear Mr. Pendleton: You will please accept my thanks for your note\n    of the 5th inst. I appreciate very highly your promise to obtain\n    for me such information as you can in reference to La Salle. I\n    would however, be very sorry to give you any trouble about the\n    matter.\n\n    I have obtained a copy of the official report made by Gen. Alonzo\n    De Leon, Governor of Coahuila and Texas, to the Spanish Government.\n    This report contains the account of a Frenchman who was reported to\n    be living in Texas where he had congregated several thousand\n    Indians together and had acquired such authority over them that\n    they not only recognized him as their chief, but treated him with\n    the greatest reverence; always kneeling when in his presence. Gen.\n    De Leon alarmed lest the authority of this Frenchman might be used\n    by the French Government to assert a claim to Texas organized an\n    expedition for his capture. After traveling in a northeast\n    direction for forty leagues from what is now Monclova, Mexico, they\n    reached the Rio Grande and twenty-five leagues beyond that stream,\n    still in the direction of northeast, they found the Frenchman, whom\n    they, with the use of a good deal of diplomacy and artifice\n    succeeded in persuading to accompany them back to Mexico. This\n    occurred in May, 1688; and this Frenchman is said to have been the\n    last survivor of La Salle\u2019s Expedition. I have translated from the\n    Spanish the account of this Frenchman and De Leon\u2019s Expedition. It\n    is a very curious and interesting incident in the early history of\n    Texas, and it was in connection with it that I wished to ascertain\n    if there was any tradition of La Salle having been killed in Bell\n    County as the Frenchman indicates....\n\n        Yours Most Respectfully,\n            Betty B. Brewster.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBIG FOOT AND LITTLE FOOT\n\nBy Mrs. S. J. Wright\n\n\nThis legend was given me by Mrs. Jack Hardy, now of El Paso, whose home\nwas for several years in Alpine, Brewster County. The time of it goes\nback only thirty or thirty-five years, and the appearance of the\nfootprints is vouched for today by some of our substantial citizens who\nwere cowpunchers then.\n\nIn the Big Bend country campers would awake in the mornings to see\ntracks of moccasined feet leading to and from the vicinity\u2014apparently\nof a man and a woman following. Sometimes, after having been trailed\nfor miles, sometimes for shorter distances, suddenly the trail would be\nlost.\n\nA cowboy sleeping out would awake and say: \u201cWell, boys, \u2018Big Foot and\nLittle Foot\u2019 have been here\u201d; and there would be the ghostly\nfootprints. By whom they were made, whence they came, whither they led,\nis still a mystery. Leaving their mysterious tracks, the treaders came\nand went as the winds and the rains, and with as little warning.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WILD WOMAN OF THE NAVIDAD\n\nBy Martin M. Kenney\n\n\n[This account of \u201cThe Wild Woman of the Navidad\u201d has been supplied from\nher father\u2019s manuscripts by Mrs. Margaret Kenney Kress, Instructor in\nRomance Languages in the University of Texas.\n\nThe line between history and legend is not always definitely drawn. Mr.\nKenney called his narrative \u201ca true story\u201d: it is \u201ctrue\u201d in that it\nsets down many of the speculations and some of the probably\nunsubstantiated tales connected with \u201cThe Wild Woman.\u201d Herein, the\nderivation of legend from fact is admirably illustrated, for I must\nthink that all legends, even such improbable ones as that of Romulus\nand Remus, have their inception in fact. The universal practice of\ntransferring legendary lore concerning one place or person to another\nplace or person does not disprove the theory that fact is at the basis\nof legend.\n\nThe theme of the wild man or the wild woman is not uncommon in legend.\nPeople want wild men or wild women to thrill their imaginations.\nTwenty-five years ago a number of the inhabitants of Live Oak County,\nTexas, were aroused over tales of a \u201cwild woman.\u201d Two or three deputy\nsheriffs on her trail stayed at our house one freezing night. The next\nday they found her huddled in a Mexican jacal\u2014an addle-brained negro\nwoman who was trying to get through the country afoot. Fifteen years\nlater stories in the same county circulated about a \u201cwild cave man.\u201d\nHis diet, according to the tales, was as miraculous as that of the\nfabled chameleon; his elusive powers as incomprehensible as those of\nFortunatus. Rumor grew riotous and fearsome. Finally, some cowpunchers\nrode the \u201cwild man\u201d down and roped him. He proved to be a Mexican moron\nwho was in hiding for having murdered another Mexican.\n\nMr. Kenney gives 1837 and 1850 as the dates between which \u201cThe Wild\nWoman of the Navidad\u201d flourished. Victor M. Rose, who treats of the\nsubject sketchily, gives the dates as 1840 and 1850. [142] Both speak\nof the wide newspaper publicity given the \u201cwoman\u201d; and it is\ninteresting to note that during this time of publicity other sections\nwere claiming their \u201cwild men.\u201d Marryat, who cribbed most of his wild\nwest material from current newspapers, published in 1843 an account of\na purported \u201cwild man\u201d on Red River.\n\n\u201cOne day,\u201d he says, \u201ca report was spread in the neighborhood of Fort\nGibson, that a strange monster, of the ourang-outang species, had\npenetrated the cane-brakes upon the western banks of the Mississippi.\nSome negroes declared to have seen him tearing down a brown bear; an\nArkansas hunter had sent to Philadelphia an exaggerated account of this\nrecently discovered animal, and the members of the academy had written\nto him to catch the animal, if possible, alive, no matter at what\nexpense.\u201d [143]\n\nThe man, it seems, had endured all manner of adventure, which he\nrelated to some hunters who shot him. Later he became a wealthy river\ncaptain, but probably tales about him as a \u201cwild man\u201d grew even after\nhis death.\n\nAgain, in 1851 there was a \u201cwild man\u201d in the Arkansas woods. On May\n26th of that year, the Galveston Weekly Journal reprinted a report from\nthe Memphis Enquirer of May 9th, concerning this \u201cwild\u201d being. He is\ndescribed as long-haired, gigantic in frame, with a footprint thirteen\ninches in length.\u2014Editor.]\n\n\nRising in the gentle hills, between the Colorado and Lavaca rivers, the\nNavidad River, after a short course, expands into a deep stream which\ncreeps sluggishly through the wide and dense forests that cover the\nalluvial lands near the sea. Some of the earliest settlements in Texas\nwere made on the Navidad. The dense growth of trees and cane in the\nriver bottom was the haunt of all species of wild animals, which,\nthrough fear or ferocity, seek the recesses of the forest.\n\nAbout the year 1837 there appeared in the settlements of the lower\nNavidad a phenomenon. The barefoot tracks of two human beings were\nfrequently seen, but the persons who made them kept themselves\ncarefully from sight. It was inferred from the size of the tracks that\none was made by a boy and the other by a girl or woman of delicate\nfeet. The two sometimes invaded the sweet potato fields and sometimes\nhelped themselves to a few ears of corn, but seemed to avoid any\nmischief and took only something to eat. Many conjectures were made,\nand abandoned as fast as made, as to who they could be. At first they\nwere thought to be runaway slaves. But the size of the tracks\ndemonstrated that they were not negroes, and they avoided making\nthemselves known to the negroes of the country. Then it was supposed\nthat they were some wandering remnant of Indians, and this conjecture\nwas favored by the smallness of the feet. But their conduct was foreign\nto the Indian character. Indians would not have been so secluded; they\nwould have committed more mischief\u2014or less. The most probable\nconjecture seemed to be that they were lost children who had become\nseparated from their friends during the hurried retreat of the American\nsettlers from the invading army of Mexico in 1836. It was supposed that\nthey had become so alarmed that, believing the whole world hostile,\nthey kept themselves in innocent ignorance secluded from mankind. But\nthere were grave objections to this theory also. If the supposed lost\nchildren had been old enough to maintain themselves in the wilderness,\nthey would not have lacked discretion to make themselves known when\ntheir friends returned. Altogether, the riddle remained unsolved. After\nsome years the larger track was no more seen, but the small and slim\ntrack frequented the country. Some time later a party of hunters\nnoticed some bones protruding from a pile of sticks and leaves in the\nwoods, and upon investigation discovered there the skeleton of a man.\nNothing was noticed by which his race or nation could be determined;\nindeed, but little was thought of the matter at the time, but afterward\nit was concluded that the larger of the two strange recluses, who was\nprobably a man, had died, and that his weaker mate, covering his body\nwith sticks and leaves, had furnished as best she could his primitive\nshroud and sepulture.\n\nHowever this might be, the small track was often found in the potato\nfields, where the strange wild being frequently came by night and,\nafter grappling a few potatoes with the hands, went away as stealthily\nas she came. From the impress of the fingers left in the garden mould\nit was judged that the hands were small and slim; and from the tracks,\nwhich were only a span long, it seemed certain that the author of these\nlittle depredations was a woman, and not of the black race, whose feet\nare all large, flat, and ill-shaped. She was now called \u201cThe Wild\nWoman,\u201d though some called her \u201cIt.\u201d\n\nCurious to know what manner of being she was, some young men set a\nwatch at a potato patch where were the signs of her recent\ndepredations. As she was harmless and possibly ignorant of speech, they\nplanned to seize her with their hands, and for this purpose they\nconcealed themselves between the high ridges of the potato vines and\nwaited in silence. At a late hour she came, and as near them as they\nhad expected. The night was dark, but they could see the shadowy form.\nIt was slim and apparently unclothed, but the color could not be\ndistinguished. They sprang out to seize her, but, though they were\nactive young men, she was more agile still, and bounded away as\nsilently and quickly as the flitting of a shadow, and was instantly\nlost in the darkness.\n\nFor a long time she was not heard of. But at length fresh signs of her\nappeared in a manner that raised curiosity. The settlers were obliged\nto keep vigilant and fierce dogs to protect the houses and domestic\nanimals against beasts of prey. Trained to guard against the stealthy\napproach of wild cat and cougar, and accustomed to battle with bear and\npanther, the dogs were trusted security against the clandestine\napproach of man or beast. The houses of the early settlers were\nconstructed on the general plan of two log pens connected by a wide\nporch or hall open at both ends, all under one roof, shade and\nventilation being the chief requisites in the southern climate. The\nsaddles, ropes and other horse-gear hung against the wall in the porch;\nthe guns were stacked in the corners of the rooms or rested in racks\nover the mantels and doors, ready for instant service; and the inmates\nof the house, skilled in the use of weapons, were scarcely less\nvigilant than their dogs. Thus guarded, they felt secure from prowling\nbeasts, and confident that no human being would be foolhardy enough to\nventure clandestinely upon the premises. In the summer time the doors\nand windows stood open day and night, and all wayfarers coming in good\nfaith were welcome.\n\nTo such a house in summer, on a bright moonlight night, when everything\nwas still and the inmates were asleep, The Wild Woman came and entered,\nstepping over dogs, it would seem. What other search or exploration she\nmade is not known, but she entered the dining room, in which there was\nan open cupboard containing a plate of meat and a loaf of bread. She\ntook part of the meat, and, breaking the bread in two, she took one\nhalf and left the other; and with this mute explanation of her motive,\nshe departed as silently as she came. Not a dog whimpered, and the\npeople of the house were none the wiser until the morning, when this\nexcusable theft excited their curiosity and compassion. But they\nwondered at the dereliction of the dogs.\n\nThe woman did not return to that house for a long time. But she soon\nentered another house of the same style, guarded by particularly\nvigilant dogs. In this her search was extended, as shown by the things\nshe moved; but it was also obvious that her motives were not venal.\nThere were gold watches hanging over the mantel, where she moved\nbottles and powder flasks, and she must have seen them, as the moon was\nshining brightly in the room. There was silverware in the cupboard, but\nshe took only some scraps of food, taking, as before, only half and\nleaving half; and she effected her departure without disturbing man or\ndog. She afterward entered numerous houses in the same strange manner;\nnot a dog would notice her. The negroes became superstitious about her.\nThey called her \u201cthat thing that comes,\u201d and for her they used the\nneuter pronoun.\n\nOne winter it was found that she was in the habit of taking corn from a\ncrib. The amount she took was wholly trifling; but from motives of\ncuriosity the opportunity was taken to capture her. All that needed to\nbe done was to watch when she entered the crib, then close the door.\nThe watch was kept for several nights without result, but at length the\ndesired opportunity occurred. The man on watch was inside the crib with\nhis hand on the door. He had fallen into a doze, when the stealthy\nrustling of the corn husks awoke him. The thing had come. He had only\nto push the door and call the people. But a superstitious horror seized\nhim. The thought of being shut up alone in the dark, even for a few\nmoments, with the mysterious creature was accompanied by a sudden dread\nthat he could not control. In his fright he cried out, and before he\ncould move a limb the creature was gone with a single bound through the\ndoor into the enveloping night.\n\nThe compassion of the people arose with their curiosity. The poor\ncreature was welcome a hundred times to what she took in her little\nforays, harmless to others but so dangerous to herself. Every means was\nused to communicate with her. Diligent search was made in the canebrake\nand in the great hollow trees, some of which afforded almost a house.\nBut all in vain; she avoided black and white alike, and no signs of her\ndwelling could be found in the dark forests where she roamed like some\nwild animal. Sometimes no sign of her would be seen for months or even\nyears, and the people would cease to think of her; then suddenly she\nwould appear with some trick, if it might be so called, more curious\nand mysterious than any before.\n\nOn one of the plantations the woodworkers\u2019 tools, essential to the\nearly settlers, were kept under an open shed where there was a rough\nwork-bench. From this the owner missed his handsaw, drawing knife, and\nsome other tools. At first he suspected some petty thief. But several\nweeks afterward the tools were all found returned to their places, the\nhandsaw scoured and polished as bright as a looking glass. What could\nthis mean? It must have been the work of The Wild Woman. The polish put\non the saw was wonderful. No one knew before that this familiar metal\nwas susceptible of such a gloss, nor did anyone know the process by\nwhich it could be effected. Why did the woman take these tools? Was she\nbuilding a hut or fixing her residence in some hollow tree? Was she\nmaking weapons, rafts, boats? For any imaginable purpose the assortment\nshe took was incongruous, deficient, or superfluous. Why did she return\nthe tools so soon? What could be the meaning of the curious but useless\npains she had taken with the saw-blade? Was there some symbolic\nmeaning, a message? Thus speculation ran.\n\nSome time afterward a neighbor missed a log chain. The negro teamster\ngave it as his opinion that \u201cdat thing what comes must have tuk it.\u201d\nBut a chain twelve feet long weighing thirty pounds or more\u2014what use\ncould that wild animal have for it? The owner said that if he ever\n\u201cwhipped a nigger for being a fool,\u201d he would \u201cskin\u201d that one. Not long\nafterward, The Wild Woman did come to his house and made the usual\nround among unconscious watch dogs and sleeping people to her usual\nprize, the cupboard, where she found a pan of milk, two loaves of\nbread, a plate of butter, and other things. She took half the plate of\nbutter, dividing it neatly, took one of the loaves, poured half the\nmilk out of the pan into a pitcher, and, taking the latter, departed.\nTwo or three weeks afterward, upon awakening one morning, the family\nfound the pitcher standing on the bare ground before the door and the\nlog chain coiled around it. The chain was scoured and polished as\nbright as the saw had been. To bring this chain and coil it before the\ndoor would seem to have been necessarily a somewhat noisy operation,\nbut the dogs had taken no notice.\n\nThe people ceased to wonder at the recusancy of the dogs; it had become\nan established phenomenon. For seven years or more this strange\ncreature had haunted the country, and all sorts of dogs and several\ngenerations of them had been tested. They were mysteriously insensible\nto the coming of The Wild Woman.\n\nHer next exploit surpassed all and set curiosity on tiptoe. A farmer\nhad a hog fattening in a pen near the house. A bear attempted one night\nto take it off, but the dogs seized the beast and after a severe fight\nkilled it. The combative spirit of the dogs was so raised by this\noccurrence that they kept a lively watch, especially on the hog pen;\nand expecting every night to be treated to another bear fight, all were\nfiercely alive to the slightest alarm. One night during this state of\nmatters, The Wild Woman brought a poor hog out of the woods and put it\nin the pen, taking the fat one out and making off with it safely, and\nnot a dog barked or growled. The farmer said that he would have killed\nevery dog on his place if he had thought that they were at themselves\nwhen \u201cthat thing\u201d swapped hogs with him. There was but one explanation\npossible: she had bewitched both hogs and dogs. There was no use in\nfattening the new porker; the negroes would not have eaten a mouthful\nof it short of starvation. During several years \u201cthe thing\u201d repeated\nthis mysterious performance at numerous places. There was one\ninconvenience attending it: the substituted hog was often the property\nof a neighbor.\n\nNumerous attempts were made to trail her with dogs, as it was thought\nthat she could not carry so heavy a burden as a fat hog to any great\ndistance. But the dogs always lost the trail as soon as the people\nfollowing were left out of sight. When the hog taking achievement had\nceased to be a wonder, some hunters came accidentally upon one of her\ncamps, and here was material for fresh curiosity. There were piles of\nsugar cane, which abounded in the neighboring fields. Much of it had\nbeen cut into short lengths and chewed; hence it was evident that she\nknew the use of a knife. There were some curious strings twisted of the\noutside bark of the cotton plant. There were no signs of fire and no\nimplements. A secret watch was kept on the camp for some time, but the\ncreature did not return. Sometime afterwards, fresh signs of her having\nbeen seen, a general hunt was resolved upon. Dogs were procured that\nhad been trained to follow runaway negroes. They came upon the trail\nand pursued eagerly enough; but the trail led through the ponds of\nwater that abounded in the swamp and soon put the dogs at fault.\n\nA long time followed during which she was not heard of; then her camp\nwas found again at a considerable distance from the former one; she had\nremoved to another section of the country. This fresh evidence raised\ncuriosity to fever heat. There were several things of her own\nmanufacture, baskets and a curious snare made from the fibrous bark of\nthe cotton plant, seemingly intended to catch rabbits or other small\nanimals. There were several articles taken from houses, a spoon, some\ntable knives, and a cup. There was no clothing; her bed was moss and\nleaves; and there had been no fire. But what excited most curiosity was\nseveral books, and these had keen kept dry. In one of the books was a\nletter of old date, containing tender sentiments and addressed to Miss\n\u2014\u2014. One of the books was a Bible, and in it were the names of the\nmembers of a well-known family in the neighborhood.\n\nWhat then? Could this strange being not only talk but read? Was she\nsome too high-strung heart that had been so overstrained or embittered\nin the buffets of the world as to renounce human society and resolutely\nfor many years keep herself secluded in the shadows of the forest? Was\nit some wild romantic sentiment which had prompted her to seek the\nsavage life of the woods with a companion, and losing him to vow so\nstrange and rude a hermitage? And after so many years was the aching\nheart seeking solace in the company of old books? Or was she seeking\nfor one book only, taking volumes at random in the dark until the light\nof morning should reveal the name? Seeking one book, wherein from old\nis written the way from this bad world to a better one? Such were a few\nof the thousand questions and conjectures which the discovery of the\nbooks suggested. The matter got into the newspapers.\n\nSympathy and curiosity rose together. If the creature could read, as it\nseemed by her taking books that she could, why not write her letters\nand place them where she would be most likely to find them? Letters\nplainly written in simple language were posted at her recent camp and\nother places entreating her to make herself known. Home and friends\nwere offered her.\n\nThis strange and serious drama was not without a comic side scene.\nThere was an eccentric old bachelor in this country at that time by the\nname of Moses Evans, who had been nicknamed \u201cThe Wild Man of the\nWoods.\u201d Since there was now a veritable Wild Woman of the woods, it\nseemed to the wits of the time an eligible match. Several love letters\nnotable for droll wit, over the signature of \u201cMoses Evans, the Wild\nMan,\u201d addressed to the unknown Wild Woman, were published in the\nnewspapers and widely copied through the United States. But the letters\nwhich had been posted on trees at the camp of the poor recluse remained\nuntouched, and nothing occurred to indicate that she understood them.\n\nBy this time a general resolution had grown up that this riddle must be\nsolved. A more systematic and cautious plan was adopted. A number of\nhunters formed extended lines and drove through the woods with leashed\nhounds, while others, well mounted and provided with lassos, took\n\u201cstands.\u201d Several fruitless hunts were made, but at length the hunters\nbecame satisfied late one evening that the woman was in a neck of woods\nrunning out into a prairie something more than a quarter of a mile\nwide. The men with the lassos took positions along the edge of this\nprairie while others drove through the skirt of woods with the hounds.\nIt was night before the men were well arranged, but a bright moon\nshone. It is well known that men accustomed to hunting with hounds, can\nreadily tell what kind of game they are pursuing by the nature of their\ncry. Scarcely were the men at their posts when the hounds raised a cry\nnever heard before. They were following the track of some strange\ncreature. Presently the breaking of little sticks and the hurried\nrustling of the brush near one of the lasso men announced the approach\nof something, which immediately bounded with a light and flying step\ninto the open prairie in the bright light of the moon.\n\nIt was The Wild Woman. She ran directly across the prairie in the\ndirection of the main forest. The man was mounted on a fleet horse, and\nit needed all his speed to bring his rider to an even race with the\nobject of his pursuit. But the horse was so afraid of the strange\ncreature that he could not be urged within reach of the lasso. Three\ntimes he came up but each time shied to right or left too far for his\nrider to throw, while the flying figure each time turned her course to\nthe opposite hand and ran with the speed of a frightened deer. They\nwere now nearing the black shadow of the great forest, which was\nprojected far on the plain. Spurring his horse with angry energy, the\npursuer came this time fairly within reach and threw his lasso; but at\nthe instant of throwing, his horse shied as before, and the rope fell\nshort. In an instant the pursued creature was in the shadow of a vast\nforest and further pursuit was useless. Though disappointed in\ncapturing her, one point was gained: the man had a good look at her as\nthey ran together across the prairie for several hundred yards. She had\nlong hair that must have reached to her feet, but that flew back as she\nran. She had no clothes, but her body was covered with short brown\nhair. The rider did not see her face, as she was between him and the\nmoon, so that whenever she turned toward him her face was in the\nshadow. Once or twice he thought he caught a glimpse of wild eyes as\nshe cast a frightened glance over her shoulder. She had something in\nher hand when he first saw her, but she dropped it either from fright\nor to facilitate her escape. After the chase this was sought for and\nfound. It proved to be a club about five feet long, polished to a\nwonder.\n\nA long time passed without anything further being seen of her. She\nseemed to have disappeared. But during the severe winter of 1850, when\nthere was a great sleet and the ground was covered with snow, her camp,\nor its camp, or the thing\u2019s camp, was found in the brush of a tree that\nhad recently blown down in the tangled thicket of a canebrake in the\ndark recesses of the woods. At this place there were large piles of\nsugar cane, much of it chewed. There was a rude bed of moss and leaves,\nbut no fire. There was the strangest set of snares, made like those\nfound before, of the bark of cotton stalks, but these were much more\ncomplex. The tracks in the snow were numerous and a span long. A watch\nwas set, but the creature had taken alarm and did not come back.\n\nThe winter passed, and some fresh signs being seen, another great\nmuster was made; and equipped with horses, hounds, and ropes, the\npursuers made a favorable start on the track. The men took up stations\nin line and closed in from all sides. In the last resort, as was\nexpected, the creature climbed a tree and was soon looking down with a\nfrightened stare at the troops of baying dogs and the faces of the men\nupturned in eager curiosity. But here was another disappointment.\nInstead of the man-like ape to which the glimpse on the prairie had\ndirected general conviction, there was only the well known ape-like man\nof tropic Africa. The wild creature they were pursuing had, it seemed,\nby accident or design crossed the trail of a runaway negro; the dogs,\ntaking the latter scent, had been misled, and instead of the wonder\nthey expected the hunters had treed only a negro man. Now they could\nremember that the cry of the dogs changed during the chase, and it was\nthought that by going back in time the trail might be recovered.\n\nBut this negro was somewhat of a curiosity himself, and they stopped to\ninvestigate him. He was entirely nude, an unknown condition for\nrunaways. The hunters bade him come down, but he made no sign of\nobeying. They asked him to whom he belonged, but he made no answer.\nThey threatened him, but he did not seem to understand. To frighten him\ninto obedience they pointed guns at him, pretending that they would\nshoot him, but he motioned with his hand for them to desist and go\naway. They then climbed the tree and took him down by force. He\ntrembled, but said nothing. While looking at him they observed his feet\nand hands. Could it be, after all, that this was the wild being who had\nso long evaded the sight of man! They led him through a muddy place to\nsee the track he made. It was measured and found to agree with the\nmeasure often taken of the strange wild one. The man was kept confined\nfor some time, and the news of his strange capture was published far\nand wide. But no owner came forward nor could anything be learned\nconcerning him.\n\nAt length a wandering sailor came that way who had been at one of the\nPortuguese missions on the coast of Africa, and knew the captive\u2019s\ntribe and spoke enough words of his barbarous language to learn his\nhistory. The negro had, when a boy, been sold by his parents for \u201cknife\nand tobacco\u201d to slave traders, who had him with many others for a long\ntime in a ship at sea. They came at last into a river, where they were\nlanded and kept for some days in a large house, where they had plenty\nof sugar and sugar cane. He and another, a grown man of his tribe, made\ntheir escape and wandered for a long time in the woods, crossing a\ngreat many rivers and prairies, he did not know how many. Often they\nwere nearly starved to death, but his companion, skillful to throw the\nclub, had as often taken some animal with which they sustained life. At\nlength they came into the section of the country where he afterwards\nremained so long. They saw the people passing about, and they saw that\nsome of them were negroes, but were afraid of their clothes; they\nfeared that the negroes were cannibals. His companion died after\nseveral years, and ever since he had been alone.\n\nAs he was now a man in middle life, he had probably been brought across\nthe sea between 1820 and 1830. His small feet received some\nexplanation. It appears that there is a tribe on the west coast of\nAfrica, perhaps more than one, which have very small feet. We learned\nfrom the savage what we did not know before, that there is a certain\nhour in the night, which varies somewhat with the moon, when the most\nwatchful dogs are sunk in insensible sleep, and a man may walk among\nthem and step over them with impunity. His most extraordinary feat of\nexchanging the hogs was very simple, but if made known it might get\nsome of his improvident race into trouble.\n\nHe was advertised as a stray negro and sold on public account. The\npurchaser turned him loose among his other negroes, and according to\nthe nature of his race, he remained contented in his new home. The Wild\nWoman was never afterwards heard of. Public curiosity speedily died\naway, and nothing more being heard from the negro, he also disappears\nfrom history and legend.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY OF TEXAS LEGENDS\n\n\nThis bibliography makes no pretension to completeness. Mere references\nto legends, such as references to buried treasure, are not listed, the\ncitations being confined almost altogether to actual narrative or\nexplanation of narrative. Legends marked with an asterisk are either\nquoted or retold in this volume. It is hoped that the bibliography will\ncontinue to grow. Additions, especially of current newspaper accounts,\nare invited.\n\n\nAgreda, Madre de Jesus de. See Blue Woman, The.\n\nAlamo, Ghosts of the. De Zavala, Adina, History and Legends of the\nAlamo and other Missions in and around San Antonio, San Antonio, 1917,\npp. 54\u201356. Included is a ballad, \u201cGhosts of the Alamo,\u201d by Grantland\nRice, from the New York Tribune.\n\nAlamo, Legend of the Statue of Saint Anthony at the Church of the, De\nZavala, op. cit., pp. 56\u201357.\n\nAntonette\u2019s Leap. See Lovers\u2019 Leap, Mount Bonnell.\n\nArroyo Hondo, an Indian legend of the origin of. Dyer, J. O., Galveston\nNews, March 28, 1922.\n\nBarton Springs, Indian legend of the origin of. Brown, Frank, Annals of\nTravis County and the City of Austin, unpublished manuscript in the\narchives of the University of Texas, Chap. V, p. 29.\n\n\u201cBlack Devil,\u201d Mustang Stallion, Ruled Texas. Pioneer legends of a\nmustang, San Saba country. Dyer, J. O., Galveston News, February 10,\n1924, p. 15.\n\n\u201cBlack Wolf\u2019s\u201d Indian Legend. An Indian Rip Van Winkle and the coming\nof the whites. Duval, John C., The Adventures of Big Foot Wallace,\n1870, pp. 51\u201355.\n\n\u201cBlue Woman,\u201d The. Bolton, H. E. (editor), Spanish Explorations in the\nSouthwest, pp. 354\u2013355, 387. *\u201cLetter of Fray Damian Massanet,\u201d\ntranslated by Professor Lilia M. Casis, reprinted from Texas State\nHistorical Association Quarterly, Vol. II, pp. 253\u2013312. De Zavala,\nAdina, History and Legends of the Alamo and other Missions, San\nAntonio, 1917, pp. 61\u201362; 103\u2013106. See bibliographical references given\nby Heimsath, Charles M., \u201cThe Mysterious Woman in Blue,\u201d this volume.\n\nBrazos River, legend of the naming of. *Kennedy, William, Esq., Texas:\nThe Rise, Progress, and Prospects of the Republic of Texas, R.\nHastings, London, 1841, Vol. I, pp. 167\u2013168. Thrall, H. S., A History\nof Texas, p. 37. *Davis, M. E. M., Under the Man-Fig, Boston, 1895, pp.\n1\u20133. Girardeau, Claude M., \u201cThe Arms of God\u201d (verse), Texas Magazine,\nHouston, May, 1897, Vol. II, pp. 431\u2013434.\n\nBrazos River, mythical origin of. *Spillane, James, \u201cAn Indian Legend\nof the Flood,\u201d Philadelphia Times (date?); reprinted in Galveston News\n(date?). See in this volume Littlejohn, E. G., \u201cHow the Brazos and the\nColorado Originated.\u201d\n\nBrazos River, mysterious music in. *Hudgins, Charles D., The Maid of\nSan Jacinto, New York, 1900, pp. 12\u201313n.\n\nBrazos River, sea serpent in. Galveston Weekly Journal, May 12, 1853.\n\nBuckner, Strap and the Devil. *Taylor, N. A., Texas the Coming Empire;\nor, Two Thousand Miles in Texas on Horseback, Barnes and Company, New\nYork, 1877, pp. 74\u201388.\n\nCave of Three Raps, The. Stevens, Walter B., Through Texas, St. Louis,\n1892, pp. 33\u201334.\n\nCherokee Rose, legend of. Austin Statesman, August 25, 1882, p. 3, col.\n4. Wylie, Lottie Belle, Legend of the Cherokee Rose and Other Poems,\nAtlanta, Georgia, 1887, pp. 5\u201315.\n\nColorado River, mythical origin of. See Brazos River, mythical origin\nof.\n\nConcepci\u00f3n de Acuna, Legends of Mission de Nuestra Se\u00f1ora de la\nPurisima, San Antonio. De Zavala, Adina, History and Legends of the\nAlamo, etc., pp. 116\u2013117: the milk moistened mortar, the joyous bells.\n\nDeath Bird, The Cry of Served as a Warning. Motes, Isaac, Frontier\nTimes, Vol. I, No. 1, October, 1923, pp. 20\u201321; reprinted from the El\nPaso Times.\n\nDiablo Canyon, The Mystery of. Stevens, Walter B., Through Texas, St.\nLouis, 1892, pp. 28\u201329.\n\nEagle Lake, legend of. *Morning Star, Houston, June 13, 1839, p. 2.\nRichmond Telescope, June, 1839; Telegraph and Texas Register, June 19,\n1839. *Darden, Mrs. F. A. D., The American Sketch Book (Texas Pioneer\nMagazine), Austin, Vol. VII, No. 2, 1881, pp. 99\u2013102. Duke, Mrs. Emma,\nthe Eagle Lake Headlight, 1909. *Carothers, Mrs. H. W., \u201cLegend of the\nLake,\u201d four-page folder, in verse, \u201cwritten for the Eagle Lake Chamber\nof Commerce,\u201d circum 1922.\n\nEgg-Nog Branch, Nacogdoches County, origin of name of. Fuller, Henry C,\n\u201cThe Story of Egg-Nog Branch and Fall of Fredonia Republic,\u201d Houston\nChronicle, February 4, 1923.\n\nEnchanted Rock of Llano County. *New York Mirror, October 20, 1838, p.\n135: letter of a traveler lately returned from Texas. *Reid, Samuel C.,\nThe Scouting Expeditions of McCulloch\u2019s Texas Rangers, Philadelphia,\n1848, pp. 111\u2013112. *Dewees, W. B., Letters from an Early Settler of\nTexas (compiled by Cora Cordelle), Louisville, Kentucky, 1852, p. 152.\nBrown, Frank, Annals of Travis County and the City of Austin,\nunpublished manuscript in the archives of the University of Texas,\nChap. I, p. 16. H\u00f6rmann, von, Pater Alter, Die Tochter Tehuans oder\nTexas im vorigen Jahrhundert, Fredericksburg Publishing Company,\nFredericksburg, Texas, 1917. The book is a fictional expansion of the\nlegend of the Enchanted Rock as told in this volume by Julia Estill.\nWehmeyer, I. G., \u201cThe Enchanted Rock,\u201d Fredericksburg Standard,\nSeptember 3, 1921, p. 1. Dietel, William, \u201cAn Indian Legend Retold,\u201d\nDallas News, May 28, 1922, Magazine Section.\n\nFig tree at Columbia, Brazoria County. Tree grew out of blood of a\nmurdered man. Davis, M. E. M., Under the Man-Fig, Boston, 1895, p. 9.\n\nFort Phantom Hill, Old (Jones County). Chittenden, W. L. [Larry], poem\nin Ranch Verses, New York, 1893, p. 97.\n\nGalveston Bay, legends of life about. Sjolander, John P., \u201cRhymes of\nGalveston Bay\u201d: *\u201cThe Padre\u2019s Beacon,\u201d Texas Magazine, March, 1911;\n\u201cPinto and the Stingaree,\u201d ibid., 1911, pp. 48\u201350; \u201cThe Ballad of the\nBayou Belle,\u201d ibid., June, 1912; *\u201cThe Boat that Never Sailed,\u201d ibid.,\nMay, 1913.\n\nHaunted Mansion, Mitchell Lake, near San Antonio. Barnes, Charles\nMerritt, Combats and Conquests of Immortal Heroes, San Antonio, 1910,\npp. 240\u2013241.\n\nHeadless Horseman on the Nueces, legend of. Reid, Captain Mayne, The\nHeadless Horseman, A Strange Tale of Texas, London, 1866, pp. 361\u2013362.\nThe legend may be purely fictitious.\n\nHonca Tree, The Accursed. How it got its thorns. Raht, Carl, The\nRomance of Davis Mountains and Big Bend Country, El Paso, 1919, pp.\n286\u2013293.\n\nHornsby\u2019s Bend (Travis County), When Spirits Walked at. Dealey, Edward\nM., Dallas News, October 2, 1921, Magazine Section, p. 3. In Morphis,\nJ. M., History of Texas and Wilbarger, J. W., Indian Depredations in\nTexas, the incident is told as history and not as legend, and certainly\nthe weight of evidence seems to be on the side of history. The story of\n\u201cThe Scalping of Josiah Wilbarger,\u201d and the consequent apparitions is\nreprinted from Wilbarger\u2019s Indian Depredations in Frontier Times,\nBandera, Texas, Vol. I, No. 6, March, 1924, pp. 28\u201331.\n\nHuisache, The Spring of the\u2014An Apache Legend. Wright, Mrs. S. J., San\nAntonio de B\u00e9xar, Austin, 1916, 123\u2013124.\n\nIndian Maid\u2019s Vision, An. A legend of the New Braunfels Oak. De Zazala,\nAdina, Interstate Index\u2014The Pioneer Magazine of Texas, San Antonio,\nApril, 1922, p. 12.\n\nLafitte, Jean, legends concerning treasure of.\n\n    *\u201cLafitte\u2019s Treasure Vault,\u201d Galveston News, October 27, 1908.\n\n    *\u201cSeeking for Buried Treasure,\u201d Houston Post, date uncertain. See\n    \u201cHorror Guarded Treasure of the Neches,\u201d this volume.\n\n    *\u201cPirates and Their Sacks of Gold,\u201d Galveston News, date uncertain.\n\n    \u201cEmpty Chest Revives Tales of Buried Treasure Horde,\u201d Port Arthur\n    News, July 1, 1923.\n\n    \u201cBuried Treasure of Jean Lafitte,\u201d Frontier Times, Vol. I, No. 8,\n    May, 1924, pp. 24\u201326; reprinted from the San Antonio Light,\n    February 17, 1923.\n\nLost Canyon in the Big Bend of Texas. *\u201cA Lost Valley in a Texas\nCanyon,\u201d Western Story Magazine, December 2, 1922. The same account,\nevidently syndicated, appeared in the New York World early in 1923 and\nwas reprinted in \u201cCattle Clatter\u201d of the San Antonio Express early in\n1923.\n\nLost Company of Irish Troops, tradition of, on the Rio Grande.\nRichardson, T. C, \u201cTrodding [sic] \u2018Old Rough and Ready\u2019s\u2019 Path through\nthe Brownsville Country,\u201d Houston Chronicle, November 26, 1922.\n\nLost Mines. See Treasure Legends.\n\nLovers\u2019 Leap (also Lover\u2019s Leap and Antonette\u2019s Leap), Mount Bonnell,\nAustin. *Morphis, J. M., History of Texas, New York, 1874, pp. 510\u2013513.\nReprinted in the Austin Tribune, circum 1908, according to Miss Louise\nvon Blittersdorf. Swisher, Bella French, The American Sketch Book\n(Texas Pioneer Magazine), Vol. IV, 1879, pp. 94\u201395. The legend is\nincorporated in \u201cA Historical Sketch of Austin,\u201d and is said to be\nreprinted from the Courier-Journal. Two years later Bella French\nSwisher incorporated it in a story called \u201cMount Bonnell,\u201d which\nappeared in The American Sketch Book, Vol. VII, No. 1, 1881, p. 34.\nWhitten, Martha E., \u201cMount Bonnell,\u201d in Texas Garlands, \u201cAuthor\u2019s\nEdition,\u201d Chicago, 1889, pp. 218\u2013221; verse. Rumpel, Charles Frederick,\nin Texas Souvenir [Poems], Austin, 1903, p. 36. Rumpel plays with the\nlegend in vers de soci\u00e9t\u00e9. Brown, Frank, Annals of Travis County and\nthe City of Austin, unpublished Ms., University of Texas, Chap. VI, p.\n49. The Brown account, essentially the same as that of Morphis,\nappeared in the Austin American, under the title \u201cAustin\u2019s Romantic\nHistory,\u201d January 20 and January 27, 1924. Moreland, Sinclair, The\nNoblest Roman, 1910, 1911, pp. 256\u2013257.\n\nLover\u2019s Leap, South Llano, Kimble County. *Jaques, Mary J., Texan Ranch\nLife, London, 1894, p. 255.\n\nLover\u2019s Leap, Santa Anna. *Callan, Austin, Santa Anna Beautiful, Santa\nAnna, Texas, 1907. Pamphlet.\n\nLover\u2019s Leap, Waco. Everett, W. E., \u201cThe Legend of Lovers\u2019 Leap,\u201d Waco\nTimes-Herald, December 19, 1913; verse. Scarborough, Dorothy,\n\u201cTraditions of the Waco Indians,\u201d Publications of the Folk-Lore Society\nof Texas, No. I, pp. 50\u201351.\n\nMargil, Fray Antonio, \u201cThe Blessed,\u201d also called \u201cThe Venerable,\u201d\nlegends of.\n\n    \u201cThe Blessed Margil\u2019s Enchantment\u2014A Legend of the San Antonio\n    Valley,\u201d Wright, Mrs. S. J., San Antonio de B\u00e9xar, Austin, 1916,\n    pp. 127\u2013128. Barnes, Charles Merritt, Combats and Conquests of\n    Immortal Heroes, San Antonio, 1910, \u201cLegend of Enchantment,\u201d pp.\n    80\u201381. The versions are practically the same.\n\n    *\u201cThe Holy Spring of Father Margil at Nacogdoches,\u201d Fuller, Henry\n    C., Galveston News, 1902. Contributed to this volume by Littlejohn,\n    E. G.\n\n    \u201cThe Margil Vine, Legend of the First Christmas at the Alamo,\u201d De\n    Zavala, Adina, folder, stitched, San Antonio, 1916. Reprinted in\n    History and Legends of the Alamo and Other Missions in and around\n    San Antonio, by De Zavala, San Antonio, 1917, pp. 65\u201368.\n\n    *Legend of the mission bells ringing at the death of Father Margil,\n    De Zavala, op. cit., pp. 150\u2013151.\n\n    See also San Antonio River, origin of.\n\nMedina, The Maniac of. Domenech, The Abb\u00ea, Missionary Adventures in\nTexas and Mexico, London, 1858, pp. 113\u2013116.\n\nMexicans, transmigration of souls of into mesquites. [Page, D.],\nPrairiedom: Rambles and Scrambles, \u201cby a Suthron,\u201d New York, 1845, pp.\n129\u2013130.\n\nMiracles, The Lord of. \u201cLegend of el Se\u00f1or de los Milagros,\u201d De Zavala,\nHistory and Legends of the Alamo, etc., pp. 195\u2013196.\n\nMocking Bird, Origin of. \u201cOrigin of the Mocking Bird, A Legend of\nSouthern Texas,\u201d Sale, Ellen L., Ladies\u2019 Messenger, July, 1888;\nreprinted in The Bohemian, \u201cSouvenir Edition,\u201d Fort Worth, 1904, pp.\n99\u2013100. Verse; lovelorn Indian maiden drowns herself in the San Antonio\nRiver; her soul takes the form and song of the mocking bird. According\nto Mrs. A. B. Looscan, the legend has also been written in verse by Lee\nC. Harby for either the Gulf Messenger or Texas Magazine, Houston\npublications. Complete files of these magazines are difficult to find.\n\nMonk\u2019s Leap. Aimard, Gustave, The Freebooters, A Story of the Texan\nWar, Philadelphia (no date given), Chap. XXIII.\n\nMount Bonnell. See Lovers\u2019 Leap, Mount Bonnell.\n\nNavajoes, a legend of the. \u201cThe Dancing Man,\u201d Hunter\u2019s Frontier\nMagazine, Vol. I, No. 1, May, 1916, pp. 17\u201318.\n\nPacing White Stallion, or White Steed of the Prairies. *Kendall, George\nW., Narrative of the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, New York, 1844, pp.\n88\u201389. Marryat, Captain, Narrative of the Travels and Adventures of\nMonsieur Violet in California, Sonora, and Western Texas, Leipzig,\n1843, pp. 155\u2013156. Marryat purloined his material largely from\nKendall\u2019s account as it appeared in the New Orleans Picayune. *Barber,\nJ., \u201cThe White Steed of the Prairies,\u201d The Democratic Review, New\nOrleans, April, 1843, Vol. XII, p. 367 ff. A ballad.\n\nPecos Bill, The Saga of. O\u2019Reilly, Edward, the Century Magazine,\nOctober, 1923, pp. 827\u2013833.\n\nPirate fortress on Galveston Island, legend of the founding of by Don\nEstevan de Sourdis and the Devil. Aimard, Gustave, The Freebooters, A\nStory of the Texan War, Philadelphia, Chap. XXI.\n\nPirates. See Lafitte.\n\nRandado Ranch, Jim Hogg County, origin of name of. Falvella, J. Will, a\nfeature article in the San Antonio Express, August 12, 1923.\n\nRio Grande: \u201cLegend of the Great River.\u201d Clark, A., Jr., Add-Rann\n(Texas Christian University), Vol. IV, No. 8, 1898. Verse; narrative of\nphantom lovers.\n\nSabine Lake, The Legend of. Reid, Mrs. Bruce, Port Arthur News, July 1,\n1923.\n\nSan Antonio River, legendary origin of: *\u201cLegend of the San Antonio\nRiver,\u201d Barnes, Charles Merritt, Combats and Conquests of Immortal\nHeroes, San Antonio, 1910, pp. 76\u201379. Wright, Mrs. S. J., \u201cA Legend of\nthe \u2018Blessed Margil,\u2019\u201d San Antonio de B\u00e9xar, Austin, 1916, 121\u2013122.\nSwisher, Bella French, \u201cThe San Antonio River,\u201d in Writers and Writings\nof Texas, edited by Davis F. Eagleton, 1913, pp. 86\u201387; reprinted from\nThe American Sketch Book (Texas Pioneer Magazine). The versions by\nBarnes and Wright vary little. Swisher\u2019s version employs a thunderbolt,\nlovers, and fairies.\n\nSan Antonio Valley, Discovery of. Wright, Mrs. S. J., op. cit., \u201cAn\nApache Legend,\u201d pp. 125\u2013126.\n\nSan Antonio River, springs of. Wright, op. cit., \u201cWhen the Springs\nCeased to Flow,\u201d pp. 124\u2013125.\n\nSan Antonio, The Folk of the Underground Passages of. \u201cThe Padre\u2019s\nGift,\u201d \u201cThe Courteous and Kindly Child and the \u2018Good People\u2019 of the\nUnderground Passageway,\u201d De Zavala, Adina, History and Legends of the\nAlamo, etc., pp. 58\u201365.\n\nSan Bernard River, mysterious music in. *Letts, F. D., an article in\nthe Galveston News, no date given; reported by E. G. Littlejohn.\n*Wilson, Eugene, J., Jr., Gulf Messenger, Houston, December, 1894, Vol.\nVII, pp. 691\u2013692. *\u201cWesley,\u201d (J. W. Morris), two articles on \u201cFiddler\u2019s\nIsland,\u201d Freeport Facts, summer of 1922; another article, ibid., on\n\u201cMystic Music in the San Bernard.\u201d Western Story Magazine, \u201cMusic Heard\non Texas River,\u201d December 2, 1922, p. 131. All these versions are\nincorporated in \u201cMysterious Music in the San Bernard River,\u201d by Bertha\nMcKee Dobie, this volume.\n\nSan Gabriel Mission, early Spanish legend concerning the abandonment\nof. *Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, pp.\n268\u2013269.\n\nSan Jos\u00e9 Mission, San Antonio, legends of. \u201cThe Windows of the Voices\u201d\nand \u201cA Legend of the Bells of the Mission San Jos\u00e9,\u201d De Zavala, Adina,\nHistory and Legends of the Alamo, etc., pp. 142\u2013145.\n\nSan Marcos River, A Legend of: how water lilies came in. *Swisher,\nBella French, The American Sketch Book (Texas Pioneer Magazine),\nAustin, Vol. I (Vol. IV), 1879, p. 146; reprinted in Vol. II (Vol. V),\n1880, pp. 91\u201392.\n\nSantiago Peak, Big Bend, how it got its name. Raht, Carl, The Romance\nof Davis Mountains, El Paso, 1919, pp. 77\u201381.\n\nSnively. See Snively under Treasure Legends.\n\nSour Lake, The Legend of. Young, Maud J. The legend is referred to in\nvarious places in Texasana, including Raines\u2019 Bibliography of Texas,\nbut I have been unable to find time or place of its publication.\n\nStaked Plains, origin of name of. Gregg, Josiah, Commerce of the\nPrairies, 1855, Vol. II, p. 181. Marcy, Randolph B., Captain United\nStates Infantry, Exploration of the Red River of Louisiana, 1852,\nWashington, 1854, p. 92. Parker, W. B., Notes ... Through Unexplored\nTexas ... 1854, Philadelphia, 1856, p. 161. Sneed, John, \u201cMany Legends\nas to Staked Plains,\u201d Dallas News, June 9, 1923.\n\nSteed, White, of the Prairies. See Pacing White Stallion.\n\n\n\nTREASURE LEGENDS\n\nAlmagres Mines, Miranda\u2019s reports on. Archives University of Texas. See\npp. 12\u201313, this volume, notes. See Bowie, Cerro de la Plata, San Saba,\nand Llano.\n\nAnna Cache Mountains, Kinney County, treasure in. San Antonio Express,\n\u201cCattle Clatter,\u201d January 5, 1924.\n\nBowie Mine. *Hunter, John Warren, Rise and Fall of the Mission San Saba\nto which Is Appended a Brief History of the Bowie or Almagres Mine,\nMason, Texas [Austin, 1905], pp. 42\u201359. Pamphlet, 84 pages, very rare.\n*Hunter, John Warren, \u201cThe Hunt for the Bowie Mine in Menard,\u201d Frontier\nTimes, Bandera, Texas, Vol. I, No. 1, October, 1923, pp. 24\u201326. \u201cFight\nby Bowie Brothers while in Search for Mine,\u201d Dallas News, January 28,\n1921, Pt. II, p. 7, col. 1. Stoddard, William O., The Lost Gold of the\nMontezumas\u2014A Story of the Alamo, Philadelphia, 1897. A highly\nfictionized account of some of Bowie\u2019s treasure hunting expeditions.\nSee also Almagres, Cerro de la Plata, San Saba, and Llano.\n\nBrand Rock Water Hole, Dimmit County, treasure in. Honnoll, W. V.,\nGalveston News, 1909.\n\nCasa Blanca, Jim Wells County, legends of treasure at. Sutherland, Mary\nA., The Story of Corpus Christi, Houston, 1916, pp. 2\u20133.\n\nCerro de la Plata. Bolton, H. E., Spanish Explorations in the\nSouthwest, pp. 283\u2013284.\n\nColeman County, Dig for Treasure in. Dallas News, December 9, 1923.\n\nEbony Cross, legend of. Brown, Clinton G., Ramrod Jones, Akron, Ohio,\n1905, pp. 316\u2013317.\n\n\u201cEscondida\u201d and \u201cBig Rocks,\u201d treasures of, Victoria County. Rose,\nVictor M., Some Historical Facts in Regard to the Settlement of\nVictoria Texas, Laredo [1883?], p. 9.\n\nFranklin Mountains, Lost Mine in to be sighted from the tower of the\nchurch in Juarez. Stevens, Walter B., Through Texas, St. Louis, 1892,\npp. 61\u201363.\n\nGuadalupe Mountains, Lost Mine in. *Hunter, J. Marvin, \u201cMysterious Gold\nMine of El Paso County,\u201d Hunter\u2019s Frontier Magazine, Vol. I, No. 6,\nOctober, 1916, pp. 177\u2013179; reprinted in Frontier Times, Vol. I, No. 7,\nApril, 1924, pp. 24\u201326. \u201cLost Gold Mine of the Guadalupe Mountains,\u201d\nFrontier Times, Vol. I, No. 6, March, 1924, pp. 1\u20133; reprinted from El\nPaso Times.\n\nLeander, old Spanish mine near. Fulcher, Henry C., \u201cCorn Tassels Wave\nover Spot where Legend Says Earth Gave up Fortune,\u201d Austin American,\nOctober 14, 1923; reprinted in Frontier Times, Vol. I, No. 4, January,\n1924, pp. 16\u201317, under title of \u201cLegend of the Old Spanish Mine.\u201d A\nvariant of the same legend appeared in the Galveston News, March 8,\n1906.\n\nLeon County, treasure in a lake near Trinity, in. Wood, W. D., \u201cHistory\nof Leon County,\u201d Texas State Historical Association Quarterly, Vol. IV,\np. 208.\n\nLlano country, legends of rich minerals in. *\u201cThe Brook of Gold\nDiscovered by Lost Rangers,\u201d and *\u201cThe Smelter on the Little Llano,\u201d\nboth printed in this volume, were adapted from stories printed in the\nGalveston News of uncertain date. \u201cLlano Treasure Cave,\u201d Naylor, Dick,\nTexas Magazine, Houston, Vol. III, pp. 195\u2013204; reprinted, under name\nof T. B. Baldwin, in the Dallas Semi-Weekly Farm News, July 11 and July\n14, 1922. See also Almagres, Bowie, Cerro de la Plata, San Saba.\n\nLometa (Lampasas County) Wakes up to Find Evidence that Landmark Held\n$49,611 Treasure, San Antonio Express, March 1, 1923.\n\nMexican diggers for buried money follow white horse, San Antonio.\n\u201cReport of Mysterious Diggers Leads Police to Treasure Hunters,\u201d San\nAntonio Express, January 29, 1923.\n\nMexican Government gold dumped into Attoyaque Bayou, Nacogdoches\nCounty. Fuller, Henry C., \u201cNeutral Ground of Louisiana Line and Legend\nof Buried Treasure,\u201d Houston Chronicle, October 29, 1922. The legend\ninvolves Aaron Burr, General Wilkinson, and the Mexican Army.\n\nMoro\u2019s Gold. Rose, Victor M., Some Historical Facts in Regard to the\nSettlement of Victoria, Texas, pp. 36\u201337.\n\nNigger Gold Mine of the Big Bend. *Raht, Carl, The Romance of Davis\nMountains, El Paso, 1919, pp. 331\u2013334.\n\nPeak of Gold, The. Lummis, Charles F., The Enchanted Burro, Chicago,\n1912. The \u201cPeak of Gold\u201d may be in New Mexico, but seems to be in\nTexas.\n\n*Realitos, six loads of treasure in a well below. In a news item\nregarding the Texas Folk-Lore Society, Dallas Times-Herald, October 22,\n1922; also in other Texas papers about the same date.\n\nSan Pedro treasure, the guarded. Barnes, Charles Merritt, Combats and\nConquests of Immortal Heroes, pp. 88\u201391.\n\nSan Saba Mines. Hornaday, William D., \u201cThe Lost Gold Mines of Texas May\nBe Found,\u201d Dallas News, January 7, 1923. Sturmberg, Robert, \u201cThe\nElusive City of Gold,\u201d in History of San Antonio and of the Early Days\nin Texas, San Antonio, 1920, Chap. III. Webber, Charles W., The Gold\nMines of the Gila, New York, 1849, pp. 190\u2013191; 196\u2013197. Webber makes\nvague use of the legends in Old Hicks the Guide, 1848, to which The\nGold Mines of the Gila is a sequel. Bonner, J. S. (K. Lamity), in The\nThree Adventurers, Austin (undated), elaborates the legend of the lost\nmines. See Bowie, etc.\n\nSnively (Schnively), Jacob, gold hunting expedition of. Hunter, John\nWarren, \u201cThe Schnively Expedition,\u201d Hunter\u2019s Magazine, January, 1911,\np. 5. Whitehurst, A., \u201cReminiscences of the Schnively Expedition of\n1867,\u201d Texas State Historical Association Quarterly, Vol. VIII, pp.\n267\u2013271.\n\nStarr County, treasure of \u201cCasa de Bob\u201d in. Lott, Virgil N., \u201cUnbroken\nand Unsuccessful Buried Treasure Hunt along Mexican Border Goes Merrily\non,\u201d Houston Chronicle, November 5, 1922.\n\nWichita Mountains, quicksilver in. Kendall, George W., Narrative of the\nTexan Santa Fe Expedition, New York, 1856, Vol. I, pp. 183\u2013186; Vol.\nII, p. 425.\n\n\n\nWichita, origin of the name. Dallas News, Magazine Section, September\n30, 1923, p. 4.\n\nWold Woman of the Navidad. Rose, Victor M., op. cit., pp. 71\u201372.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTRIBUTORS\n\n\nFrom the brief sketches of contributors that follow, something is\nrevealed of the humanistic interest in their own social inheritance\nthat is stirring among men and women over the State of Texas. If\nculture is a cultivation of the inherent rather than a grafting of the\nextrinsic\u2014and history shows that it is\u2014then surely no small debt will\nbe acknowledged to these individuals by the growing number of children\nof Light who claim also to be children of Texas.\n\nStanley E. Babb, a young man of Galveston, has written some genuine\npoetry of the sea. He is literary editor of the Galveston News.\n\nJulia Beazley of Houston is a gatherer of Texas folk-songs as well as\nof legends.\n\nL. D. Bertillion\u2019s business of mounting horns has carried him into many\nparts, and apparently he has always traveled with open ears. Only lack\nof space has prevented the inclusion of other legends of his gathering.\nHe lives at Mineola.\n\nAustin Callan, who used to live at Santa Anna, is a newspaper man.\n\nJohn R. Craddock is a true product of the rangy West, and he is\ngathering all manner of folk material from the old-time Plains people.\nOnly one to the manner born can seize a legend as he has seized \u201cThe\nLegend of Stampede Mesa.\u201d At present Mr. Craddock is ranching in\nDickens County. He has written good ballads and has been a student at\nthe University of Texas.\n\nDr. Alex. Dienst of Temple is a well known scholar in Texas history. He\nhas contributed to the Southwestern Historical Quarterly and is engaged\non a bibliography of Texasana.\n\nBertha McKee Dobie has from childhood been familiar with the country of\nthe Brazos and the San Bernard rivers.\n\nFlora Eckert is a native of the Llano region. At present she is\nteaching in the Fredericksburg Public Schools.\n\nA. W. Eddins, who is engaged in school work in San Antonio, has\ncontributed to both preceding Publications of the Society. He promises\nmore lore from the Mexicans.\n\nJulia Estill is president of the Texas Folk-Lore Society and one of the\nmost useful members that the Society has ever known. Last year she\ncontributed an article to the Publications on German lore of Gillespie\nCounty. She is principal of the Fredericksburg High School.\n\nJord Leeper Gay has played tramp, cowboy, treasure hunter, and\ncollegian. At present he is attending the School of Mines at El Paso.\n\nLillian Gunter is librarian of the Cooke County Free Library at\nGainesville. There she has a county museum and is inspiring a\nwidespread interest in local history.\n\nCharles Heimsath is instructor of English at the University of Texas.\n\nFrontier Times, issued monthly at Bandera, is, to one interested in\nTexas folk-lore and pioneer reminiscences, the most interesting\nmagazine ever published within the borders of the state. Of it J.\nMarvin Hunter is editor and publisher. During the eight months that\nFrontier Times has appeared it has printed as many Texas legends, in\naddition to folk-lore of other forms. One who is interested in folk\ndiction, folk metaphor, etc., will find in this magazine invaluable\nsource material. Mr. Hunter compiled the two volumes of Trail Drivers\nof Texas published by George W. Saunders of San Antonio. He has written\nalso a history of Bandera County.\n\nMartin McHenry Kenney (1831\u20131907) was born in Illinois and at the age\nof three came to Texas with his parents, members of Austin\u2019s colony. He\nwas a forty-niner, captain of a company in the Confederate Army, a\nTexas Ranger, and for thirteen years Spanish translator of the State of\nTexas. He was a diligent student of Indian life and knew the Indians at\nfirst hand. He wrote \u201cThe History of the Indian Tribes of Texas,\u201d which\nis included in Wooten\u2019s Comprehensive History of Texas.\n\nEdgar B. Kincaid is a ranchman of Uvalde County.\n\nEdith C. Lane is an active member of the El Paso Archaeological\nSociety.\n\nE. G. Littlejohn is well known among Texas historians. He is the author\nof Texas History Stories, familiar to many school children of the\nstate. He is secretary of the Texas Historical Society at Galveston and\nprincipal of the Alamo School.\n\nAdele B. Looscan, president of the Texas State Historical Association,\nhas made many valuable contributions to the history of Texas and has\nlargely encouraged the cultivation of literature in this state. Her\nhome is in Houston.\n\nRoscoe Martin is a student at the University of Texas.\n\nJ. W. Morris is a lawyer at Freeport. He has written various legends of\nthe coast country that have been published in the Freeport Facts.\n\nL. W. Payne, Jr. has perhaps done more than any other man to keep alive\nthe Texas Folk-Lore Society. He was the first president of the Society,\nhaving been largely instrumental in founding it, and has been a\nconstant contributor to its Publications. Dr. Payne is now gathering\nthe folk-songs of Texas for a proposed volume. He is Professor of\nEnglish at the University of Texas.\n\nFannie Ratchford is assistant in the Wrenn Library, in connection with\nwhich she has done interesting research.\n\nMrs. Bruce Reid, of Port Arthur, has put a series of legends into story\nform for children. She acknowledges her inspiration to Mrs. E. C.\nCarter, until recently Chief Librarian of the Memorial Library at Port\nArthur. In this library Mrs. Reid\u2019s folk-stories are read and told to\nchildren. Mrs. Reid has made extensive studies of birds.\n\nR. E. Sherrill, a business man of Haskell, has written a history of\nHaskell County. Working through the public schools, he has stimulated a\nlively interest in the history and lore of his county.\n\nJohn P. Sjolander, a veteran of seventy-three years, will long be\nremembered as a pioneer Texas poet. He was born of a noble family in\nSweden, was educated in England, and came to Texas more than half a\ncentury ago\u2014as a seaman. For a long generation he has lived at Cedar\nBayou, cultivating poetry and the art of life. He has translated many\nfolk-songs from the Swedish and has contributed to various magazines of\nthis country and Sweden. A sketch of his life by Hilton R. Greer is to\nbe found in Library of Southern Literature. Only some of his \u201cRhymes of\nGalveston Bay\u201d are here reprinted.\n\nJ. S. Spratt, recent student of the University of Texas, lives at\nMingus in Palo Pinto County.\n\nMary A. Sutherland is the author of The Story of Corpus Christi, an\ninteresting history not only of her home city but of the lower Nueces\ncountry. She contributed to the Publications of 1923.\n\nVictor J. Smith, a member of the faculty of the Sul Ross State Normal\nCollege at Alpine, is the acknowledged representative of the Texas\nFolk-Lore Society for the Big Bend country. He combines anthropology\nand folk-lore and contributed an article of such blend to the 1923\nPublications.\n\nAs editor of The American Sketch Book, which she brought to Texas from\nthe north and continued to edit under the sub-title of Texas Pioneer\nMagazine, Bella French Swisher was during the eighteen eighties rather\nprominent in Texas literary circles. Her romantic nature took her to\nCalifornia, to the stage, and to a young husband. She died some fifteen\nyears ago.\n\nIn the note to \u201cThe Devil and Strap Buckner\u201d something is said of the\nauthor\u2019s life. Nathaniel Alston Taylor was born in North Carolina,\n1835. He graduated from the University of Virginia, came to Texas, and\nserved as colonel in Polignac\u2019s Brigade during the Civil War. After the\nwar he settled in Houston.\n\nLouise von Blittersdorf is an enthusiastic worker in the Texas\nFolk-Lore Society. Her home is in Austin, and she is a student in the\nUniversity of Texas.\n\nJ. O. Webb, Superintendent of Schools at Alvin, is writing a history of\nGalveston for his Master\u2019s thesis at the University of Texas.\n\nW. P. Webb perhaps knows more about Texas Rangers and frontier outlaws\nthan any other man living. He has written various articles on Texas\nhistory and Texas folk-lore; at present he is working on a book having\nto do with Texas Rangers. Mr. Webb is Adjunct Professor of History at\nthe University of Texas.\n\nMrs. S. J. Wright is the author of San Antonio de B\u00e9xar, Historical,\nTraditional and Legendary, which contains a number of legends\npertaining to San Antonio. Mrs. Wright is a leader in Texas women\u2019s\nclub work. San Antonio is her home.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n[1] History and Legends of the Alamo and Other Missions in and around\nSan Antonio, by Adina De Zavala, San Antonio, 1917; San Antonio de\nB\u00e9xar, Historical, Traditional, Legendary, by Mrs. S. J. Wright,\nAustin, 1916; Combats and Conquests of Immortal Heroes, by Charles\nMerritt Barnes, San Antonio, 1910. The last named of the three books is\nnow very scarce; the other two are obtainable at reasonable prices.\n\n[2] See Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, p. 4. I\nam indebted also to Mrs. Mattie Austin Hatcher, Archivist in History at\nthe University of Texas, for information in her unpublished (1923) book\non The Opening of Texas to Foreign Settlement, particularly Chaps. II\nand V.\n\n[3] Brewster County, in which mines were worked, was not in the old\nMexican state of Texas and Coahuila.\n\n[4] Sutherland, Mary A., The Story of Corpus Christi, Houston, 1916,\npp. 2\u20133. Mrs. Sutherland does not give her authority.\n\n[5] Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, p. 9;\nPriestley, H. I., Jos\u00e9 de Galvez (University of California Publications\nin History, 1916), p. 288. According to Priestley, some presidios were\nestablished by the Spanish in America to protect the special interests\nof large landholders.\n\nDon Pedro de Terreros, banker and wealthy mine owner of Mexico, who\nadvanced the money for the establishment of the Mission of San Saba,\nmay not have been so altruistic as Bancroft, Dr. Dunn, and Dr. Bolton\nhave all implied. The government must bear the cost of military\nprotection for the mission. With government protection and Indian\nlabor, the mines at San Saba, which Miranda had in his famous reports\nmade so promising, would richly pay any individual working them. Don\nPedro had an interest in the mines. The Terreros records, if extant,\nmight throw a great deal of light on the subject.\n\n[6] About $11 around for each man in the Texas army, besides $3000 that\nwas voted to the Texas navy. There was $11,000 in specie in Santa\nAnna\u2019s military chest. His \u201cfinery and silver\u201d were auctioned off at\n$1600 and his rich saddle at $800. See \u201cAn Account of the Battle of San\nJacinto,\u201d by J. Washington Winters, Texas State Historical Association\nQuarterly, Vol. VI, pp. 139\u2013144; \u201cMemoirs of Major George Bernard\nErath,\u201d by Lucy A. Erath, Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Vol. XXVI,\npp. 266\u2013269.\n\n[7] Austin Papers in University of Texas archives. Information given by\nMrs. Mattie Austin Hatcher, Archivist.\n\n[8] See \u201cThe Legend of the San Saba, or Bowie, Mine.\u201d\n\n[9] Dr. Barker, in treating of \u201cLand Speculation as a Cause of the\nTexas Revolution,\u201d Texas State Historical Association Quarterly, Vol.\nX, p. 76 ff., ignores all idea that reputed mineral riches had anything\nto do with the land speculation.\n\nAn unfounded but popular view to the contrary is offered by Captain\nMarryat, who says: \u201cThe dismemberment of Texas from Mexico was affected\nby the reports of extensive gold mines, diamonds, etc., which were to\nbe found there.\u201d\u2014Narrative of the Travels and Adventures of Monsieur\nViolet in California, Sonora, and Western Texas, Leipzig, 1843, p. 147.\n\n[10] Prescott, Conquest of Mexico, Book V, Chapter III. I am aware of\nthe fact that some historians question the loss of any great treasure.\n\n[11] Prescott, Conquest of Peru, Philadelphia, 1874, I, pp. 420\u2013422;\n453 ff. Also, Bandelier, A. F., The Gilded Man, p. 19.\n\n[12] Bandelier, p. 26.\n\n[13] Zahm, J. A. (H. J. Mozans), Through South America\u2019s Southland, New\nYork, 1916, p. 361.\n\n[14] For full accounts of the El Dorado history and legends, see\nAdolphe F. Bandelier\u2019s The Gilded Man, New York, 1893, and Z. A. Zahm\u2019s\n(H. J. Mozans) The Quest of El Dorado, New York, 1917. Both are\nreadable and distinguish well between history and legend. Bandelier is\nthe more scholarly of the two writers.\n\n[15] Zahm, J. A. (Mozans), Through South America\u2019s Southland, pp.\n353\u2013362.\n\n[16] Bandelier, The Gilded Man, \u201cThe Seven Cities,\u201d p. 125 ff.\n\n[17] Skinner, Chas. M., Myths and Legends of Our New Possessions,\nPhiladelphia, 1902, p. 103.\n\n[18] Bandelier, The Gilded Man, \u201cThe Amazons,\u201d p. 113 ff.\n\n[19] Bolton, H. E. (Editor), Spanish Explorations in the Southwest, New\nYork, 1916, pp. 130, 156, 184, 186.\n\n[20] Ibid., p. 130.\n\n[21] Ibid., pp. 283\u2013284.\n\n[22] Bancroft identifies the \u201cmountain of silver\u201d with \u201cthe famous iron\nmountain near the city of Durango.\u201d\u2014History of the North Mexican States\nand Texas, I, p. 100.\n\n[23] Bolton, Spanish Explorations, pp. 313\u2013317.\n\n[24] Lummis, Chas. F., The Enchanted Burro, p. 161 ff.\n\n[25] Zahm, J. A., The Quest of El Dorado, p. 6.\n\n[26] Ibid., pp. 197\u2013200.\n\n[27] Bandelier, The Gilded Man, \u201cQuivira,\u201d p. 223 ff.\n\nDr. Bolton points out that the Spanish searched in Texas for \u201cthe\nKingdom of Gran Quivira, where \u2018everyone had their ordinary dishes made\nof wrought plate, and the jugs and bowls were of gold\u2019\u201d; also \u201cfor the\nSeven Hills of the Aijados, or Aixaos, where gold was so plentiful that\n\u2018the natives not knowing any of the other metals, make of it everything\nthey need, such as vessels and the tips of arrows and lances.\u2019\u201d\u2014\u201cThe\nSpanish Occupation of Texas, 1519\u20131690,\u201d by Herbert E. Bolton,\nSouthwestern Historical Quarterly, Vol. XVI, pp. 1\u20132.\n\n[28] The Alhambra, \u201cThe Journey.\u201d\n\n[29] Bandelier, The Gilded Man, p. 223 ff.\n\n[30] See \u201cThe Snively Legend,\u201d infra.\n\n[31] Webber, Chas. W., The Gold Mines of the Gila, New York, 1849,\nespecially pages 189\u2013191 and 196\u2013197. Webber concludes the book with an\nactual proposal to readers to join him in an expedition after the\ntreasure. He had been a ranger with Jack Hays a short time and he\nclaims to have gotten his information about the San Saba deposits from\nthe talk of men in camp. Use is made of the same legendary material in\nWebber\u2019s Old Hicks the Guide, 1848.\n\n[32] Galveston Weekly Journal, May 13, June 6, June 16, 1853.\n\n[33] \u201cThe Hunt for the Bowie Mine in Menard,\u201d in Frontier Times,\nBandera, Texas, October, 1923, pp. 24\u201326. The article is full of\nconcrete evidence not to be questioned.\n\n[34] San Antonio Express, October 21, 1923, p. 1.\n\n[35] For good satire on Texan credulity in Mexican mines, see On A\nMexican Mustang Through Texas, by Alex E. Sweet and J. Armory Knox,\nRand, McNally and Co., New York, 1892, pp. 439\u2013452.\n\n[36] Bolton, H. E., Spanish Explorations in the Southwest, pp. 283\u2013284.\n\n[37] \u201cMiranda\u2019s Expedition to Los Almagres and Plans for Developing the\nMines,\u201d a Spanish transcript from original documents in the archives of\nMexico, now in the history archives of the University of Texas,\n\u201c1755\u20131756, A. G. I. Mejico, 92\u20136\u201322, N\u2032 16A.\u201d See also another\ntranscript from original sources: \u201cReport on Disposition of San Saba,\u201d\nlisted \u201c1767, A. G. I., Guad., 104\u20136, 13.\u201d\n\n[38] \u201cMiranda\u2019s Expedition to Los Almagres,\u201d etc. Vide ante.\n\n[39] For a succinct history, see Dunn, William E., \u201cThe Apache Mission\nof the San Saba River,\u201d Southwestern Historical Quarterly, XVII,\n379\u2013414; also, Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century,\npp. 78\u201393.\n\n[40] Bolton, supra, p. 83.\n\n[41] This is an interesting but somewhat confusing document. It was\nprinted in 1905 and is already so rare as to be almost unobtainable. It\nis in neither the Texas State Library nor the Library of the University\nof Texas. I am indebted to Mr. E. W. Winkler for use of his\npresentation copy. Mr. Hunter was living at Mason when he issued the\npamphlet and had a rare first-hand knowledge of the ground and of\ntraditions as well as access to some original documents.\n\n[42] Op. cit., p. 47.\n\n[43] History of San Antonio and the Early Days of Texas, compiled by\nRobert Sturmberg, San Antonio, 1920, Chap. III.\n\n[44] \u201cReport on Disposition of San Saba.\u201d Vide ante.\n\n[45] Op. cit., p. 48.\n\n[46] See, for instance, \u201cThe Lost Gold Mines of Texas May Be Found,\u201d by\nW. D. Hornaday in the Dallas News, January 7, 1923.\n\n[47] U. S. Geological Survey, Bulletin 450, \u201cMineral Resources of the\nLlano-Burnet Region, Texas,\u201d by Sidney Page, Washington, Government\nPrinting Office, 1911.\n\nBut note the following dispatch in the San Antonio Express, February\n26, 1924, p. 5:\n\n    \u201cAUSTIN, Tex., Feb. 25\u2014Sam Young, Llano banker, was in Austin\n    Monday and reports much activity in that region in the mineral\n    line. Young says experts think they have found gold in paying\n    quantity, also graphite, and that capital now is being interested\n    in the deposits with the early prospects of real mining and\n    shipping of valuable ores and probably the refined products. Many\n    small deposits of precious metals have been found near Llano in\n    recent years, but the new finds are said to be large enough to\n    warrant exploitation and give that section a new and valuable\n    industry.\u201d\n\nThus history never tires of repeating itself; thus the dream of\ntreasure once dreamed lives on.\n\n[48] Fournel, Henri, Coup d\u2019oeil ... sur le Texas, Paris, 1841, p. 23,\nspeaks \u201cdes richesses metalliques depuis longtemps signal\u00e9es par les\nEspagnoles.\u201d I am unable now to verify the reference, but I am sure\nthat Gustave Aimard introduces the subject in one of his romances,\nprobably The Freebooters.\n\nOf course the rumor of the mines had a wide vogue in Spain, where the\nviceroy\u2019s reports went direct.\n\nAn English novel published in 1843 has this sentence: \u201cThe Comanches\nhave a great profusion of gold, which they obtain from the neighborhood\nof the San Seba [sic] hills, and work it themselves into bracelets,\narmlets, diadems, as well as bits for their horses, and ornaments to\ntheir saddles.\u201d\u2014Marryat, Captain, Monsieur Violet, etc., p. 175.\n\n[49] As examples of fictional uses of the legend in America, see\nWebber, Charles W., The Gold Mines of the Gila, New York, 1849, pp.\n189\u2013191; Webber, Old Hicks the Guide, New York, 1848. In this last\nnamed book, the use is so vague and general that no particular pages\ncan be cited. Other examples are \u201cThe Llano Treasure Cave,\u201d by Dick\nNaylor, The Texas Magazine, Vol. III, pp. 195\u2013204, reprinted in the\nDallas Semi-Weekly Farm News, with T. B. Baldwin as the name of the\nauthor, July 11 and July 14, 1922; The Three Adventurers, by J. S. (K.\nLamity) Bonner, Austin, (no date given).\n\n[50] Sowell, A. J., Early Settlers and Indian Fighters of Texas, pp.\n405\u2013408.\n\n[51] \u201cSeveral days previous to the fight it was currently reported in\nCamp that there was a quantity of silver coming from Mexico on pack\nmules to pay off the soldiers of General Cos. Our scouts kept a close\nwatch, to give the news as soon as the convoy should be espied, so that\nwe might intercept the treasure. On the morning of the 26th, Colonel\nBowie was out in the direction of the Medina, with a company, and\ndiscovered some mules with packs approaching. Supposing this to be the\nexpected train, he sent a messenger for reinforcements.\u201d\u2014Baker, D. W.\nC., Texas Scrap Book, p. 92.\n\n[52] The Battle of Calf Creek, 1831, in which eleven Texans fought one\nhundred and sixty-four Indians under the leadership of Chief Tresmanos\nof the Lipans. Only one of Bowie\u2019s men was killed. Rezin P. Bowie wrote\nan account of the battle that has often been quoted in Texas histories.\nThe account by James Bowie seems not so well known. It is to be found\nin John Henry Brown\u2019s History of Texas, Vol. I, pp. 170\u2013175.\n\n[53] A signed article on the Calf Creek fight in the Dallas News,\nJanuary 28, 1923.\n\n[54] \u201cCommand El Ca\u00f1on and Los Almagres to deliver up their known\ntreasures,\u201d wrote De M\u00e9zi\u00e8res in an effort to stimulate Spanish\nactivity in Texas.\u2014Bolton, H. E., Athanase de M\u00e9zi\u00e8res, II, 297.\n\n[55] Vol. I, No. I, October, 1923, p. 25.\n\n[56] Santa Anna, according to Brown, did cross into Texas at Laredo,\nbut he went to San Antonio, not Goliad. See Brown, John Henry, History\nof Texas, Vol. I, p. 569 ff. Another Santa Anna chest is said to have\nbeen dropped off near Lockhart on the road to Nacogdoches. Of course,\nSanta Anna never went from San Antonio to Nacogdoches.\n\n[57] This latter explanation is more probable. The feminine Santa is\nnever apocopated in Spanish, and caja is feminine.\n\n[58] A tale common to both legend and roguery. I have a copy of a\nletter written in 1911 by a prisoner in Madrid to an American at Aguas\nCalientes, Mexico, in which the prisoner offered to share $273,000\nconcealed on the American\u2019s land, provided the American would send\nfunds for passage of the prisoner and his wife.\n\n[59] \u201cThe company, being six months\u2019 men, were discharged at Fort\nMerrill on the Nueces, on the 4th day of May, 1851, but reorganized as\na new company for another six months the next day.\u201d\u2014Brown, John Henry,\nHistory of Texas, Vol. II, p. 356. See a report to the Secretary of\nWar: Sen. Ex. Doc. 1, 32d Cong., 1st Session, Serial 611.\n\n[60] See, for instance, \u201cThe Mission de Los Olmos, near Falfurrias,\u201d by\nMarshall Monroe, reprinted from the Houston Chronicle, in Frontier\nTimes, January, 1924, pp. 44\u201345.\n\n[61] Sutherland, Mary A., The Story of Corpus Christi, Houston, 1916,\npp. 2\u20133.\n\n[62] A euphemism of the Texas Rangers.\n\n[63] Old-timers still call much of the \u201cMagic Rio Grande Valley\u201d by\nnothing else than The Sands.\u2014Editor.\n\n[64] This last legend was printed in the Dallas Times-Herald, October\n22, 1922, and in other papers over the state about the same time, I\nhaving given it to the press in the hope of creating a wider interest\nin legends.\n\n[65] The mine is often referred to as the \u201cNigger Ben Mine.\u201d I have not\nbeen able to learn why, but I have a guess. In the early seventies a\nhalf-breed negro-Mexican named Ben Hodges, but known as \u201cNigger Ben,\u201d\nwent up the trail to Kansas with a herd of Texas cattle. \u201cNigger Ben\u201d\nremained in the vicinity of Dodge City and became a notorious, almost\nlegendary, fraud. He claimed to possess a Spanish grant to lands on the\nRio Grande on which were located wonderfully rich mines. It would be\nvery much in the manner of legend to blend \u201cNigger Ben\u2019s mine\u201d with\nanother mine on the Rio Grande claimed by another negro. For an account\nof \u201cNigger Ben,\u201d see Wright, Robert M., Dodge City the Cowboy Capital,\nWichita, Kansas, 1913, pp. 273\u2013280.\n\n[66] Raht, Carl, The Romance of Davis Mountains, El Paso, 1919, pp.\n331\u2013334.\n\n[67] In Hunter\u2019s Frontier Magazine, October, 1916, I, 6, 177\u2013179.\nFurther testimony to the existence of \u201cthe Sublett Mine,\u201d given by an\nold buffalo hunter and prospector named Dixon, is printed in Frontier\nTimes, March, 1924, Vol. I, No. 6, pp. 1\u20133. Dixon heard of the mine in\n1879 from his sweetheart, daughter of a Mescalero Apache chief.\n\n[68] Bolton, H. E., Athanase de M\u00e9zi\u00e8res, II, 33\u201334; see also p. 47;\nalso, Vol. I, p. 104.\n\n[69] Shipman, Daniel, Frontier Life: 58 Years in Texas, 1879, pp.\n23\u201326.\n\n[70] Edward, David B., History of Texas, Cincinnati, 1836, pp. 44\u201345.\n\n[71] See Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, pp.\n89\u201390, for an account of the Parrilla Expedition.\n\n[72] Ibid., 129, 414. See also Bolton\u2019s De M\u00e9zi\u00e8res, II, 187\u2013238.\n\n[73] After having written the above, I was informed by Mr. Joseph B.\nThoburn, secretary of the Oklahoma Historical Society, that he had\nreceived a letter from Dr. Bolton identifying \u201cOld Spanish Fort\u201d with\nthe fortification attacked by Parrilla.\n\n[74] See page 99.\n\n[75] See Roberts, Capt. Dan W., Rangers and Sovereignty, San Antonio,\n1914, pp. 185\u2013186.\n\n[76] Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, pp. 114,\n391; Cf., also, pp. 90, 414.\n\n[77] According to Charles M. Skinner, Myths and Legends of Our Own\nLand, Vol. II, pp. 279\u2013280, the Hessian troops, after the surrender of\nBurgoyne, packed their plate, pay, and jewels into a howitzer and\nburied it somewhere near Dalton, Massachusetts.\n\n[78] I have never heard the details of the legend, though I have heard\nof it from several sources. Mr. E. G. Littlejohn sends in a legend\nclipped from the Galveston News of 1909, in which a Spanish prince,\nbesieged by Indians about the year of 1700, cast a great quantity of\n\u201cgold, silver, and jewels\u201d into Brand Rock Water Hole, of Pe\u00f1a Creek in\nDimmit County.\n\n[79] Wooten\u2019s Comprehensive History of Texas, Vol. I, p. 292; Brown,\nJohn Henry, History of Texas, Vol. II, pp. 46, 66, 67.\n\n[80] In 1816, Luis de Aury, well known in Texas history as a slave\nsmuggler and privateer, was, by the incipient republic of Mexico, made\ncivil and military governor of the province of Texas. He stationed\nhimself on Galveston Island and among other acts made an alliance with\nthe romantic Colonel Perry. See Bancroft, H. H., History of the North\nMexican States and Texas, Vol. II, 34\u201339. Dyer, J. O., The Early\nHistory of Galveston, Galveston, Texas, 1916, pp. 4\u20139, has a rather\ndetailed account of Aury.\u2014Editor.\n\n[81] The Republic of Fredonia was announced December 16, 1826.\u2014Editor.\n\n[82] Manuel Flores, Mexico-Indian agent, with a party of twenty-five\nmen, was met by Lieutenant James O. Rice, with seventeen men, near\nAustin, May 14, 1839, and Flores was killed. Burleson shortly afterward\nmet and defeated Vicente Cordova, Flores\u2019 aid. See Yoakum, History of\nTexas, Vol. II, 257\u2013261.\u2014Editor.\n\n[83] According to his own statement, Mr. J. O. Webb of Alvin, Texas,\nwho is writing a history of Galveston, has never met the name of\nSteinheimer in his researches.\u2014Editor.\n\n[84] For a history of his first expedition, see any Texas history, but\nparticularly \u201cThe Last Stage of Texan Military Operations Against\nMexico, 1843,\u201d by William Campbell Binkley, in the Southwestern\nHistorical Quarterly, Vol. XXII, pp. 260\u2013271. Perhaps a juster estimate\nof the motives of Snively is to be found in J. W. Wilbarger\u2019s Indian\nDepredations in Texas, Austin, 1889, pp. 51\u201358.\n\nAn excellent account of the highly romantic second expedition is\n\u201cReminiscences of the Schnively Expedition of 1867,\u201d by A. Whitehurst,\nTexas State Historical Association Quarterly, Vol. VIII, pp. 267\u2013271.\n\n[85] Smithwick, Noah, The Evolution of a State, p. 267.\n\n[86] Brown, John Henry, History of Texas from 1685 to 1892, St. Louis,\nVol. II, p. 291.\n\n[87] Bolton, H. E., Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, pp.\n140\u2013141.\n\n[88] Ibid., 260\u2013261.\n\n[89] Ibid., 138, 227.\n\n[90] Ibid., 268\u2013269.\n\n[91] Ibid., 275\u2013276.\n\n[92] The legend may be compared with that of La Vaca de Lumbre (the\nFiery Cow) of the City of Mexico, fabled to come forth at midnight from\nthe Potrero de San Pablo and gallop through the streets like a blazing\nwhirlwind, breathing from her nostrils smoke and fire. Janvier connects\nthe story of La Vaca de Lumbre with that of the goblin, El Belludo de\nGrenada, \u201cwho comes forth at midnight from the Siete Suelos Tower of\nthe Alhambra and scours the streets pursued by hell-hounds.\u201d See\nJanvier, Thomas A., Legends of the City of Mexico, \u201cLa Vaca de Lumbre,\u201d\nHarper Brothers, New York, 1910.\u2014Editor.\n\n[93] Skinner tells a tale of two young men who were digging for a\ntreasure chest supposed to have been lost by a Spanish galleon at New\nLondon, Connecticut, in 1753. \u201cThey had dug down to water-level when\nthey reached an iron chest, and they stooped to lift it\u2014but, to their\namazement, the iron was too hot to handle! Now they heard deep growls,\nand a giant dog peered at them from the pit-mouth.\u201d\u2014Chas. M. Skinner,\nMyths and Legends of Our Own Land, II, 282\u2013283.\n\nSee also Pete Staples\u2019 story of the ghost-dog as a guardian of\ntreasure, page 54.\u2014Editor.\n\n[94] For a brief account of \u201cMoro\u2019s Gold,\u201d see Rose, Victor M., Some\nHistorical Facts in Regard to the Settlement of Victoria, Texas, Laredo\n[1883?], pp. 36\u201337.\u2014Editor.\n\n[95] Reprinted from The Coming Empire or Two Thousand Miles in Texas on\nHorseback, by H. F. McDanield and N. A. Taylor, A. S. Barnes and\nCompany, New York, 1877, pp. 49\u201373.\n\n[96] Benavides, Alonso de: The Memorial of Fray Alonso de Benavides,\n1630, translated by Mrs. Edward A. Ayer; annotated by F. W. Hodge and\nCharles F. Lummis, R. R. Donnelley and Sons, Chicago, 1916, pp. 58\u201359.\n\n[97] Casis, Lilia M.: \u201cLetter of Fray Damian Manzanet to Don Carlos de\nSig\u00fcenza Relative to the Discovery of the Bay of Esp\u00edritu Santo,\u201d Texas\nState Historical Association Quarterly, II, pp. 282\u2013283.\n\n[98] Casis, ibid., pp. 311\u2013312.\n\n[99] A copy at St. John\u2019s College, Fordham, New York.\n\n[100] \u201cCarta en que se da noticia de un viaje hecho a la bah\u00eda de\nEsp\u00edritu Santo, y de la poblaci\u00f3n que tenian ahi los franceses.\u201d In\nBuckingham Smith, Documentos para la historia de la Florida.\n\n[101] Shea, John Gilmary: The Catholic Church in Colonial Days, New\nYork, 1886, p. 197. Vol. I of A History of the Catholic Church Within\nthe United States, 4 vols.\n\n[102] Bolton, H. E., Southwestern Historical Quarterly, XVI, No. 1,\nJuly, 1912, pp. 8\u20139.\n\n[103] Chapman, Charles E., The Founding of Spanish California, The\nMacmillan Company, New York, 1916, p. 333, footnote.\n\n[104] Hodge also recounts the legend in his \u201cBibliography of Fray\nAlonso de Benavides,\u201d Indian Notes and Monographs, Vol. III, No. 1, pp.\n11\u201313.\n\n[In addition to the references given by Mr. Heimsath, the following may\nbe added. The story is told in the History of San Antonio and Early\nDays in Texas, compiled by Robert Sturmberg, and published by St.\nJoseph\u2019s Society, San Antonio, 1920, Chapter IV. The legend is\ndiscussed in \u201cVen. Maria Jesus de Agreda: A Correction,\u201d by Edmond J.\nP. Schmitt, Texas State Historical Association Quarterly, Vol. I,\n121\u2013124; also in a note by M. M. Kenney, ibid., I, 226\u2013227.\u2014Editor.]\n\n[105] Yoakum, History of Texas, I, 184.\n\n[106] Lubbock, Francis Richard, Six Decades in Texas (edited by\nRaines), Austin, 1900, p. 32.\n\n[107] British Diplomatic Correspondence Concerning the Republic of\nTexas, edited by Ephraim Douglass Adams, Austin, \u201cCrawford to\nPakenham,\u201d p. 13.\n\n[108] Hudgins, Charles D., The Maid of San Jacinto, New York, 1900, pp.\n12\u201313, footnotes.\n\n[109] An old corruption of bore.\u2014Editor.\n\n[110] Cf. Southey\u2019s \u201cThe Inchcape Rock.\u201d\u2014Editor.\n\n[111] An adequate treatment, in a brief space, of the marriage customs\nof the Plains Indians is to be found in Chapter II of North American\nIndians of the Plains, by Clark Wissler, published by the American\nMuseum of Natural History. The volume includes a good bibliography of\nworks on Indian life.\n\n[112] Author of Die Tochter Tehuans.\u2014Editor.\n\n[113] Originally there were two Spanish sites in the Menardville\nvicinity, both founded in 1757: the presidio, San Luis de Las\nAmarillas, on the north bank of the San Saba River, and the mission,\nSan Sab\u00e1, three miles south. In 1758 the Comanches destroyed the\nmission; then the presidio was strengthened and maintained until 1769.\nThe remains of it are yet to be seen at Menard. The mission was\nestablished for the benefit of the Apaches; their hereditary enemies,\nthe Comanches, from the north, regarded the Spanish policy of trying to\nChristianize the Apaches as an act of war. In the middle of the\neighteenth century, it is hardly necessary to say, the Comanches and\nApaches were not yet \u201cremnants.\u201d The Cheyennes and Arapahoes never got\nas far south as the San Saba. The whole story of the San Saba\nsettlement is to be found in two monographs by William Edward Dunn:\n\u201cMissionary Activities among the Eastern Apaches Previous to the\nFounding of the San Sab\u00e1 Mission,\u201d Texas State Historical Association\nQuarterly, XV, 186\u2013200; and \u201cThe Apache Mission on the San Sab\u00e1 River;\nits Founding and its Failure,\u201d Southwestern Historical Quarterly, XVI,\n379\u2013414. Dr. Bolton in his Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century, pp.\n78\u2013101, gives a succinct account of \u201cThe Apache Missions and the War\nwith the Northern Tribes.\u201d\u2014Editor.\n\n[114] Through the courtesy of Miss Nell Andrew, librarian of Texas\nChristian University, I have seen a poem by A. Clark, Jr., that relates\na similar tale. A phantom lover on the Rio Grande diurnally meets his\nlove. The poem is called \u201cLegend of the Great River\u201d and was published\nin Add-Rann (T. C. U.), Vol. IV, No. 8, 1898.\u2014Editor.\n\n[115] This legend is reprinted from a small pamphlet called Santa Anna\nBeautiful, published by Clay P. Morgan, Santa Anna, Texas, 1907. It is\nthe only signed article in the pamphlet, which was designed for\ncommercial purposes.\n\n[116] Morphis, J. M., History of Texas, New York, 1874, pp. 510\u2013513.\n\n[117] Theodosia Burr Allston, daughter of Aaron Burr and wife of Joseph\nAllston, Governor of South Carolina, 1812\u20131814, set sail from\nCharleston in December of 1813 on the Patriot bound for New York. The\nvessel was never heard of again, and it is supposed to have been\nwrecked off the coast of Hatteras. \u201cSome forty years afterward,\nhowever,\u201d according to Lamb\u2019s Biographical Dictionary of the United\nStates, Vol. I, pp. 76\u201377, \u201ca romantic story found credence and went\nthe rounds of the press, to the effect that a dying sailor in Detroit\nhad confessed that he had been one of a crew of mutineers who, in\nJanuary, 1813, took possession of the \u2018Patriot\u2019 ... and compelled the\ncrew and passengers to walk the plank.\u201d The New International\nEncyclopedia says that \u201ca tradition of uncertain origin\u201d has the\nPatriot to have been taken by pirates.\u2014Editor.\n\n[118] Reprinted from The American Sketch Book (Texas Pioneer Magazine),\nVol. I (Vol. IV), 1879, p. 146; \u201crepublished by request\u201d in Vol. II\n(Vol. V), 1880, pp. 91\u201392.\n\n[119] Wright, Mrs. S. J., San Antonio de B\u00e9xar, Austin, 1916, pp.\n121\u2013122.\n\n[120] De Zavala, Adina, History and Legends of the Alamo and Other\nMissions, page 150.\n\n[121] Note the striking resemblance in plot to Lanier\u2019s ballad \u201cThe\nRevenge of Hamish.\u201d\u2014Editor.\n\n[122] In a note to \u201cThe Aguayo Expedition into Texas and Louisiana,\n1719\u20131722,\u201d Texas State Historical Association Quarterly, Vol. XV, p.\n39.\n\n[123] Thrall, H. S., A History of Texas, New York, 1876, p. 37.\n\n[124] Captain Rafael Mart\u00ednez Pacheco, 1763, escaped unseen and\nunscorched from the presidio in which he was besieged. According to\nMrs. Mattie Austin Hatcher, Archivist in History at the University of\nTexas, the legend is to be pieced out from the Bexar archives. For some\nfacts of the case, see Bolton, Texas in the Middle Eighteenth Century,\npp. 111\u2013112.\n\n[125] For a copy of the song, I am indebted to Mrs. V. M. Taylor of\nAngleton.\n\n[126] \u201cThe Arms of God\u201d by Claude M. Girardeau of Galveston, in The\nTexas Magazine, Houston, May, 1897, II, 431\u2013434. About this time Mrs.\nDavis\u2019 books seem to have been popular with readers of The Texas\nMagazine, two reviews of her work having appeared in it during the\npreceding twelve months.\n\n[127] Davis (Mrs.), M. E. M., Under the Man-Fig, Houghton, Mifflin and\nCo., Boston, 1895, pp. 1\u20133. Reprinted by permission.\n\n[128] Aimard, Gustave, The Freebooters, A Story of the Texan War,\nChapter XXIII, Philadelphia [date not given]. The novel came out in\nFrance around 1858 or 1860.\n\n[129] Kennedy, William, Esq., Texas: The Rise, Progress, and Prospects\nof the Republic of Texas, R. Hastings, London, 1841, Vol. I, pp.\n167\u2013168.\n\n[130] Thrall, H. S., A History of Texas, p. 37. Thrall goes on to say\nthat \u201cin old maps the San Antonio is marked as the Medina and the\nGuadalupe as the San Marcos.\u201d For additional evidence as to the\nconfusion of the Brazos and the Colorado in nomenclature, Mr.\nLittlejohn cites Bolton\u2019s Spanish Explorations in the Southwest, pp.\n376, 413.\n\n[131] A History of Texas, p. 37.\n\n[132] George Wilkins Kendall gave this account in his Narrative of the\nTexan Santa Fe Expedition, New York, 1844, pp. 89\u201390. Prior to this\nKendall had written some sketches for the New Orleans Picayune, one of\nwhich was about the Pacing White Stallion. It was this account that he\nincorporated in the book. Doubtless many of the later written accounts\nare based upon Kendall\u2019s.\n\n[133] The reason some of the mustangs were alone was due to the fact\nthat the stallion leader had driven the younger and weaker horses from\nthe herd. Since these horses were young, they would naturally often\nhave good form. The color is hard to account for. Many of the mustangs\nwere vari-colored, but it is doubtful if there was ever a solid white\nhorse.\n\n[134] The poem appeared in The Democratic Review, XII, 367f.,\naccompanied by a condensation of Kendall\u2019s story taken from the\nPicayune.\n\n[135] Destined to be preserved for generations yet in his offspring in\nEmerson Hough\u2019s North of 36. Zane Grey has also introduced him into\nfiction, in The Last of the Plainsmen.\u2014Editor.\n\n[136] Spence, Lewis, Myths and Legends, Vol. VII (\u201cMexico and Peru\u201d),\np. 123.\n\n[137] It should be remembered that some of the ancient peoples grouped\nwith the Cliff Dwellers inhabited natural caves. See Goddard, Pliny\nEarle, Indians of the Southwest, Handbook Series No. 2, American Museum\nof Natural History, p. 38.\n\n[138] History has disproved this once common tale of the Lively\u2019s never\nhaving been heard of. See Garrison, George P., Texas (American\nCommonwealths), pp. 144\u2013145.\u2014Editor.\n\n[139] Says Carl Raht in his The Romance of Davis Mountains, El Paso,\nTexas, 1919, p. 25: \u201cAccording to these authorities [\u201cBandelier and\nother writers who have examined the records of the early Spanish\nexplorers\u201d]\u2014and present-day research has failed to refute their\nstatements\u2014the buffalo never frequented the Rio Grande in the Big Bend\nregion.\u201d \u201cI never saw a buffalo west of the Pecos\u201d: quoted from an old\nbuffalo hunter in Frontier Times, March, 1924, p. 1.\n\n[140] Stevens, Walter B., Through Texas, St. Louis, 1892, pp. 28\u201329.\n\n[141] Although not a legend, this letter illustrates the popular\nspeculation and tradition concerning La Salle\u2014his followers, his fort,\nhis death, even his treasure\u2014that once flourished, first among the\nSpanish and then among the Anglo-Saxon Texans, but that now seem to be\nsubsiding. As many places as claimed \u201cHomer dead\u201d have claimed the last\nresting place of La Salle. One informant writes that some Henderson\nCounty folk imagine that La Salle\u2019s grave is on the west bank of the\nNeches in their precincts and that they have made recent excavations in\nsearch of treasure supposed to lie in the grave. De Le\u00f3n made more than\none expedition in search of the French; he did find an old man who had\nbeen with La Salle. See A School History of Texas, by Barker, Potts and\nRamsdell, Chapter II.\u2014Editor.\n\n[142] Rose, Victor M., Some Historical Facts in Regard to the\nSettlement of Victoria, Texas, Laredo [1883?], pp. 71\u201372.\n\n[143] Marryat, Captain, Narrative of the Travels and Adventures of\nMonsieur Violet in California, Sonora, and Western Texas, Leipzig,\n1843, p. 278.","title":"Legends of Texas","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":107531}