Post by bobdurham on Sept 15, 2009 13:28:24 GMT -5
Just in case the Texas Ranger buffs on this site haven't already heard this one -- found some stories about Big Foot in a book I just picked up at Half Price Books. Longhorn Cowboy by James H. Cook. I've heard the first one before, of course, but not the second. If you've already heard this, stop me! This happened in the early 1870s in San Antonio:
Soon after my arrival in San Antonio I was fortunate enough to meet one of the most noted frontiersmen of Texas -- Captain "Bigfoot" Wallace. He told he the history of the fight at the Alamo. When he recounted how that little band of fearless men died, fighting agianst about as long odds as the greatest warriors of earth could desire, the brave old veteran became fired with enthusiasm; and certainly he got me excited to the point of thinking that those heroes of the Alamo were the greatest men that ever lived, except, perhaps, Ethan Allen or Daniel Boone.
This strapping giant had come from his native Virginia to Texas in 1836, just after the battle of San Jacinto. In 1842 he fought in the battle of Saldo. Later, with the Mier expedition, he and other Texans were captured by Mexicans, and went through some man-testing experiences. Wallace told of the time when he and others were lined up, blindfolded, and given an opportunity to decide their fate. A jar partly filled with beans, one-tenth of which were black, was placed before them, and each man was required to thrust in a hand and draw out a bean. If it was white, his life was spared; if black, he was led out, pronto and shot. Bigfoot, and Ben Slaughter, who later became my employer, were fortunate enough to get hold of white beans. It is possible that Bigfoot, being a great joker and popular with his captors, may have been helped a bit by the guards.
Though his life was spared, Wallace's freedom was withheld until some years later when our government interceded and obtained his release. He returned to Texas, which remembers him today as one of its most picturesque pioneers. For some years he drove an overland stage; during the latter part of his stage-driving career he had charge of the route from San Antonio to El Paso, one of the most dangerous stretches on the whole line.
When I met Captain Wallace he had retired from this work to his horse ranch out on Atascosa Creek, where he was trying to breed high-class saddle horses from Steeldust and Copperbottom stock. About a year later he gave me one of the best of his three-year-old colts.
Wallace deserved his reputation for running down marauding Indians. He told me of one single-handed adventure he had along this line.
One day a bunch of Comanches rode up to his ranch to relieve him of the care of some of his well-known horses. Leaping bareback on to a little Spanish mule, which was the only animal he had under control at the time, he grabbed off his hat and charged yelling down on those Indians.
"Avance, companeros!'
Thinking that he was supported by a band of rangers, the redskins retreated on the dead run, leaving the captain to a more leisurely retirement, his reputation intact, and the "rangers" filed away in his memory for future reference.
Wallace was still pretty active when I first met him in San Antonio, where he spent a good deal of time playing Spanish monte. He would no more qualify for teaching Sabbath school than any of the other old-timers I met, but to me they were all exceedingly interesting. And they got done many things that need doing.
Soon after my arrival in San Antonio I was fortunate enough to meet one of the most noted frontiersmen of Texas -- Captain "Bigfoot" Wallace. He told he the history of the fight at the Alamo. When he recounted how that little band of fearless men died, fighting agianst about as long odds as the greatest warriors of earth could desire, the brave old veteran became fired with enthusiasm; and certainly he got me excited to the point of thinking that those heroes of the Alamo were the greatest men that ever lived, except, perhaps, Ethan Allen or Daniel Boone.
This strapping giant had come from his native Virginia to Texas in 1836, just after the battle of San Jacinto. In 1842 he fought in the battle of Saldo. Later, with the Mier expedition, he and other Texans were captured by Mexicans, and went through some man-testing experiences. Wallace told of the time when he and others were lined up, blindfolded, and given an opportunity to decide their fate. A jar partly filled with beans, one-tenth of which were black, was placed before them, and each man was required to thrust in a hand and draw out a bean. If it was white, his life was spared; if black, he was led out, pronto and shot. Bigfoot, and Ben Slaughter, who later became my employer, were fortunate enough to get hold of white beans. It is possible that Bigfoot, being a great joker and popular with his captors, may have been helped a bit by the guards.
Though his life was spared, Wallace's freedom was withheld until some years later when our government interceded and obtained his release. He returned to Texas, which remembers him today as one of its most picturesque pioneers. For some years he drove an overland stage; during the latter part of his stage-driving career he had charge of the route from San Antonio to El Paso, one of the most dangerous stretches on the whole line.
When I met Captain Wallace he had retired from this work to his horse ranch out on Atascosa Creek, where he was trying to breed high-class saddle horses from Steeldust and Copperbottom stock. About a year later he gave me one of the best of his three-year-old colts.
Wallace deserved his reputation for running down marauding Indians. He told me of one single-handed adventure he had along this line.
One day a bunch of Comanches rode up to his ranch to relieve him of the care of some of his well-known horses. Leaping bareback on to a little Spanish mule, which was the only animal he had under control at the time, he grabbed off his hat and charged yelling down on those Indians.
"Avance, companeros!'
Thinking that he was supported by a band of rangers, the redskins retreated on the dead run, leaving the captain to a more leisurely retirement, his reputation intact, and the "rangers" filed away in his memory for future reference.
Wallace was still pretty active when I first met him in San Antonio, where he spent a good deal of time playing Spanish monte. He would no more qualify for teaching Sabbath school than any of the other old-timers I met, but to me they were all exceedingly interesting. And they got done many things that need doing.
