Travels and Adventures of Monsieur Violet

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  Among these Apaches, our companions, were two Comanches, who, fifteenyears before, had witnessed the death of the celebrated Overton. Asthis wretch, for a short time, was employed as an English agent by theFur Company, his wild and romantic end will probably interest the manyreaders who have known him; at all events, the narrative will serve as aspecimen of the lawless career of many who resort to the westernwilderness.

  Some forty-four years ago, a Spanish trader had settled among a tribe ofthe Tonquewas [The Tonquewas tribe sprung from the Comanches many yearsago.], at the foot of the Green Mountains. He had taken an Indiansquaw, and was living there very comfortably, paying no taxes, butoccasionally levying some, under the shape of black mail, upon thesettlements of the province of Santa Fe. In one excursion, however, hewas taken and hung, an event soon forgotten both by Spaniards andTonquewas. He had left behind him, besides a child and a squaw,property to a respectable amount; the tribe took his wealth for theirown use, but cast away the widow and her offspring. She fell by chanceinto the hands of a jolly though solitary Canadian trapper, who, nothaving the means of selecting his spouse, took the squaw for better andfor worse.

  In the meantime the young half-breed grew to manhood, and earlydisplayed a wonderful capacity for languages. The squaw died, and thetrapper, now thinking of the happy days he had passed among thecivilised people of the East, resolved to return thither, and took withhim the young half-breed, to whom by long habit he had become attached.They both came to St. Louis, where the half-breed soon learned enough ofEnglish to make himself understood, and one day, having gone with his"father-in-law" to pay a visit to the Osages, he murdered him on theway, took his horse, fusil, and sundries, and set up for himself.

  For a long time he was unsuspected, and indeed, if he had been, he caredvery little about it. He went from tribe to tribe, living an indolentlife, which suited his taste perfectly; and as he was very necessary tothe Indians as an interpreter during their bartering transactions withthe Whites, he was allowed to do just as he pleased. He was, however,fond of shifting from tribe to tribe, and the traders seeing him nowwith the Pawnies or the Comanches, now with the Crows or the Tonquewas,gave him the surname of "Turn-over," which name, making a summerset,became Over-turn, and by corruption, Overton.

  By this time every body had discovered that Overton was a greatscoundrel, but as he was useful, the English company from Canadaemployed him, paying him very high wages. But his employers havingdiscovered that he was almost always tipsy, and not at all backward inappropriating to himself that to which he had no right, dismissed himfrom their service, and Overton returned to his former life. By-and-by,some Yankees made him proposals, which he accepted; what was the natureof them no one can exactly say, but every body may well fancy, knowingthat nothing is considered more praiseworthy than cheating the Indiansin their transactions with them, through the agency of some rascallyinterpreter, who, of course, receives his _tantum quantum_ of theprofits of his treachery. For some time the employers and employedagreed amazingly well, and as nothing is cheaper than military titles inthe United States, the half-breed became Colonel Overton, with boots andspurs, a laced coat, and a long sword.

  Cunning as were the Yankees, Overton was still more so; cheating them ashe had cheated the Indians. The holy alliance was broken up; he thenretired to the mountains, protected by the Mexican government, andcommenced a system of general depredation, which for some time provedsuccessful. His most ordinary method was to preside over a barterbetwixt the savages and the traders. When both parties had agreed, theywere of course in good humour, and drank freely. Now was the time forthe Colonel. To the Indians he would affirm that the traders onlywaited till they were asleep, to butcher them and take back their goods.The same story was told to the traders, and a fight ensued, the moreterrible as the whole party was more or less tipsy. Then, with somerogues in his own employ, the Colonel, under the pretext of making allsafe, would load the mules with the furs and goods, proceed to Santa Fe,and dispose of his booty for one-third of its value. None cared how ithad been obtained; it was cheap, consequently it was welcome.

  His open robberies and tricks of this description were so numerous, thatOverton became the terror of the mountains. The savages swore theywould scalp him; the Canadians vowed that they would make him dance todeath; the English declared that they would hang him; and the Yankees,they would put him to Indian torture. The Mexicans, not being able anymore to protect their favourite, put a price upon his head. Under thesecircumstances, Overton took an aversion to society, concealed himself,and during two years nothing was heard of him; when, one day, as a partyof Comanches and Tonquewas were returning from some expedition, theyperceived a man on horseback. They knew him to be Overton, and gavechase immediately.

  The chase was a long one. Overton was mounted upon a powerful and noblesteed, but the ground was broken and uneven; he could not get out of thesight of his pursuers. However, he reached a platform covered with finepine trees, and thought himself safe, as on the other side of the woodthere was a long level valley, extending for many miles; and there hewould be able to distance his pursuers, and escape. Away he darted likelightning, their horrible yell still ringing in his ears; he spurred hishorse, already covered with foam, entered the plain, and, to his horrorand amazement, found that between him and the valley there was ahorrible chasm, twenty-five feet in breadth and two hundred feet indepth, with acute angles of rocks, as numerous as the thorns upon aprickly pear. What could he do? His tired horse refused to take theleap, and he could plainly hear the voices of the Indians encouragingeach other in the pursuit.

  Along the edge of the precipice there lay a long hollow log, which hadbeen probably dragged there with the intention of making a bridge acrossthe chasm. Overton dismounted, led his horse to the very brink, andpricked him with his knife: the noble animal leaped, but his strengthwas too far gone for him to clear it; his breast struck the other edge,and he fell from crag to crag into the abyss below. This over, thefugitive crawled to the log, and concealed himself under it, hoping thathe would yet escape. He was mistaken, for he had been seen; at thatmoment, the savages emerged from the wood, and a few minutes morebrought them around the log. Now certain of their prey, they wished tomake him suffer a long moral agony, and they feigned not to know wherehe was.

  "He has leaped over," said one; "it was the full jump of a panther.Shall we return, or encamp here?"

  The Indians agreed to repose for a short time; and then began aconversation. One protested, if he could ever get Overton, he wouldmake him eat his own bowels. Another spoke of red-hot irons and ofcreeping flesh. No torture was left unsaid, and horrible must have beenthe position of the wretched Overton.

  "His scalp is worth a hundred dollars," said one.

  "We will get it some day," answered another. "But since we are here, wehad better camp and make a fire; there is a log."

  Overton now perceived that he was lost. From under the log he cast aglance around him: there stood the grim warriors, bow in hand, and readyto kill him at his first movement. He understood that the savages hadbeen cruelly playing with him and enjoying his state of horriblesuspense. Though a scoundrel, Overton was brave, and had too much ofthe red blood within him not to wish to disappoint his foes--he resolvedto allow himself to be burnt, and thus frustrate the anticipatedpleasure of his cruel persecutors. To die game to the last is anIndian's glory, and under the most excruciating tortures, few savageswill ever give way to their bodily sufferings.

  Leaves and dried sticks soon surrounded and covered the log--fire wasapplied, and the barbarians watched in silence. But Overton hadreckoned too much upon his fortitude. His blood, after all, was buthalf Indian, and when the flames caught his clothes he could bear nomore. He burst out from under the fire, and ran twice round within thecircle of his tormentors. They were still as the grave, not a weaponwas aimed at him, when, of a sudden, with all the energy of despair,Overton sprang through the cir
cle and took the fearful leap across thechasm. Incredible as it may appear, he cleared it by more than twofeet: a cry of admiration burst from the savages; but Overton wasexhausted, and he fell slowly backwards. They crouched upon theirbreasts to look down--for the depth was so awful as to giddy the brain--and saw their victim, his clothes still in flames, rolling down fromrock to rock till all was darkness.

  Had he kept his footing on the other side of the chasm, he would havebeen safe, for a bold deed always commands admiration from the savage,and at that time they would have scorned to use their arrows.

  Such was the fate of Colonel Overton!