The Travels and Adventures of Monsieur Violet in California, Sonora, and Western Texas

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER XII.

  Among these Apaches, our companions, were two Comanches, who, fifteenyears before, had witnessed the death of the celebrated Overton. As thiswretch, for a short time, was employed as an English agent by the FurCompany, 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[14], at the foot of the Green Mountains. He had taken anIndian squaw, and was living there very comfortably, paying no taxes,but occasionally 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, propertyto a respectable amount; the tribe took his wealth for their own use,but cast away the widow and her offspring. She fell by chance into thehands of a jolly, though solitary Canadian trapper, who, not having themeans of selecting his spouse, took the squaw for better and for worse.

  [Footnote 14: The Tonquewas tribe sprang from the Comanches many yearsago.]

  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 thecivilized 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, hecared very little about it. He went from tribe to tribe, living anindolent life, which suited his taste perfectly; and as he was verynecessary to the Indians as an interpreter during their barteringtransactions with the Whites, he was allowed to do just as he pleased.He was, however, fond of shifting from tribe to tribe, and the tradersseeing him now with the Pawnies or the Comanches, now with the Crows orthe Tonquewas, gave him the surname of "Turn-over," which name, making asomersault, became Over-turn, and, by corruption, Overton.

  By this time everybody 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-bye,some Yankees made him proposals, which he accepted; what was the natureof them no one can exactly say, but everybody 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 as he had cheated the Indians.The holy alliance was broken up; he then retired to the mountains,protected by the Mexican government, and commenced a system of generaldepredation, which for some time proved successful. His most ordinarymethod was to preside over a barter betwixt the savages and the traders.When both parties had agreed, they were of course in good humour, anddrank freely. Now was the time for the Colonel. To the Indians he wouldaffirm that the traders only waited till they were asleep, to butcherthem and take back their goods. The same story was told to the traders,and a fight ensued, the more terrible as the whole party was more orless tipsy. Then, with some rogues in his own employ, the Colonel, underthe pretext of making all safe, would load the mules with the furs andgoods, proceed to Santa Fe, and dispose of his booty for one-third ofits value. None cared how it had 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 that 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 voice 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 strength wastoo far gone for him to clear it; his breast struck the other edge, andhe fell from crag to crag into the abyss below. This over, the fugitivecrawled to the log, and concealed himself under it, hoping that he wouldyet escape. He was mistaken, for he had been seen; at that moment, thesavages emerged from the wood, and a few minutes more brought themaround the log. Now certain of their prey, they wished to make himsuffer a long moral agony, and they feigned not to know where he 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 would makehim eat his own bowels. Another spoke of red-hot irons and of creepingflesh. No torture was left unsaid, and horrible must have been theposition 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 of thered blood within him not to wish to disappoint his foes--he resolved toallow himself to be burnt, and thus frustrate the anticipated pleasureof his cruel persecutors. To die game to the last is an Indian's glory,and under the most excruciating tortures, few savages will ever give wayto their bodily sufferings.

  Leaves and dried sticks soon surrounded and covered the log--fire wasapplied, and the barbarians watched in silence. But Overton had reckonedtoo much upon his fortitude. His blood, after all, was but half Indian,and when the flames caught his clothes he could bear no more. He burstout from under the fire, and ran twice round within the circle of histormentors. They were still as the grave, not a weapon was aimed at him,when, of a sudden, with all the energy of despair, Overton sprangthrough the circle and took the fearfu
l leap across the chasm.Incredible as it may appear, he cleared it by more than two feet; a cryof admiration burst from the savages; but Overton was exhausted, and hefell slowly backwards. They crouched upon their breasts to lookdown--for the depth was so awful as to giddy the brain--and saw theirvictim, his clothes still in flames, rolling down from rock to rock tillall 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!