Читать книгу With Sam Houston in Texas онлайн

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“Sam Houston!” ejaculated Mr. Carroll. “Now we’ll know what’s what.” And he added, as they drew near: “Elias Rector, too. He’s United States marshal for Arkansas Territory. T’other one’s name is Harris, I think. Met him down at Little Rock. Major Arnold Harris.”

Sure enough, General Houston it was, his head thrust through a Mexican blanket, draped over his shoulders, and a large-brimmed whitey-gray wool hat on his crown. He looked larger than ever, but it was no wonder that Ernest had not recognized him, for he had been clean shaven. However, Mr. Carroll had sharp eyes.

The spot proved to be the focus of several trails; and as Mr. Carroll and Ernest arrived, the general was heavily dismounting from his bob-tailed pony.

“This bob-tailed pony is a disgrace,” declared the general. “He is continually fighting the flies, and has no means of protecting himself; and his kicks and contortions render his rider ridiculous. I shall be the laughter of all Mexico. I require a steed with his natural weapon, a flowing tail, that he may defend himself against his enemies as his master has done. Harris, good-bye; but first you must trade with me. What are your terms?”