Tales of Aztlan
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George Hartmann >> Tales of Aztlan
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8 Scanned by Dianne Bean, Prescott Valley, Arizona.
Tales of Aztlan, The Romance of a Hero of our Late Spanish-American
War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a western Pioneer and
Other Tales.
by George Hartmann
A note about this book: A Maid of Yavapai, the final entry in this
book, is dedicated to SMH. This refers to Sharlot M. Hall, a famous
Arizona settler. The copy of the book that was used to make this
etext is dedicated: With my compliments and a Happy Easter, Apr 5th
1942, To Miss Sharlot M. Hall, from The daughter of the Author,
Carrie S. Allison, Presented March 31st, 1942, Prescott, Arizona.
1908 Revised edition
Memorial
That this volume may serve to keep forever fresh the memory of a
hero, Captain William Owen O'Neill, U. S. V., is the fervent wish of
The Author.
CHAPTER I. A FRAIL BARK, TOSSED ON LIFE'S TEMPESTUOUS SEAS
A native of Germany, I came to the United States soon after the Civil
War, a healthy, strong boy of fifteen years. My destination was a
village on the Rio Grande, in New Mexico, where I had relatives. I
was expected to arrive at Junction City, in the State of Kansas, on a
day of June, 1867, and proceed on my journey with a train of freight
wagons over the famous old Santa Fe trail.
Junction City was then the terminal point of a railway system which
extended its track westward across the great American plains, over
the virgin prairie, the native haunt of the buffalo and fleet-footed
antelope, the iron horse trespassing on the hunting ground of the
Arapahoe and Comanche Indian tribes. As a mercantile supply depot for
New Mexico and Colorado, Junction City was the port from whence a
numerous fleet of prairie schooners sailed, laden with the
necessities and luxuries of an advancing civilization. But not every
sailor reached his destined port, for many were they who were sent by
the pirates of the plains over unknown trails, to the shores of the
great Beyond, their scalpless bodies left on the prairie, a prey to
vultures and coyotes.
If the plans of my relatives had developed according to program, this
story would probably not have been told. Indians on the warpath
attacked the wagon train which I was presumed to have joined, a short
distance out from Junction City. They killed and scalped several
teamsters and also a young German traveler; stampeded and drove off a
number of mules and burned up several wagons. This was done while
fording the Arkansas River, near Fort Dodge. I was delayed near
Kansas City under circumstances which preclude the supposition of
chance and indicate a subtle and Inexorably fatal power at work for
the preservation of my life--a force which with the giant tread of
the earthquake devastates countries and lays cities in ruins; that
awful power which on wings of the cyclone slays the innocent babe in
its cradle and harms not the villain, or vice versa; that inscrutable
spirit which creates and lovingly shelters the sparrow over night and
then at dawn hands it to the owl to serve him for his breakfast. Safe
I was under the guidance of the same loving, paternal Providence
which in death delivereth the innocent babe from evil and temptation,
shields the little sparrow from all harm forever, and incidentally
provides thereby for the hungry owl.
I should have changed cars at Kansas City, but being asleep at the
critical time and overlooked by the conductor, I passed on to a
station beyond the Missouri River. There the conductor aroused me and
put me off the train without ceremony. I was forced to return, and
reached the river without any mishap, as it was a beautiful moonlight
night. I crossed the long bridge with anxiety, for it was a
primitive-looking structure, built on piles, and I had to step from
tie to tie, looking continually down at the swirling waters of the
great, muddy river. As I realized the possibility of meeting a train,
I crossed over it, running. At last I reached the opposite shore. It
was nearly dawn now, and I walked to the only house in sight, a long,
low building of logs and, being very tired, I sat down on the veranda
and soon fell asleep. It was not long after sunrise that a sinister,
evil-looking person, smelling vilely of rum, woke me up roughly and
asked me what I did there. When he learned that I was traveling to
New Mexico and had lost my way, he grew very polite and invited me
into the house.
We entered a spacious hall, which served as a dining-room, where
eight young ladies were busily engaged arranging tables and
furniture. The man intimated that he kept a hotel and begged the
young ladies to see to my comfort and bade me consider myself as
being at home. The girls were surprised and delighted to meet me and
overwhelmed me with questions. They expressed the greatest concern
and interest when they learned that I was about to cross the plains.
"Poor little Dutchy," said one, "how could your mother send you out
all alone into the cruel, wide world!" "Mercy, and among the Indians,
too," said another. When I replied that my dear mother had sent me
away because she loved me truly, as she knew that I had a better
chance to prosper in the United States than in the Fatherland, they
called me a cute little chap and smothered me with their kisses.
The tallest and sweetest of these girls (her name was Rose) pulled my
ears teasingly and asked if her big, little man was not afraid of the
Indians. "Not I, madame," I replied; "for my father charged me to be
honest and loyal, brave and true, and fear not and prove myself a
worthy scion of the noble House of Von Siebeneich." "Oh, my! Oh, my!"
cried the young ladies, and "Did you ever!" and "No, I never!" and
"Who would have thought it!" Regarding me wide-eyed with
astonishment, they listened with bated breath as I explained that I
was a lineal descendant of the Knight Hartmann von Siebeneich, who
achieved everlasting fame through impersonating the Emperor Frederick
(Barbarossa) of Germany, in order to prevent his capture by the
enemy. I told how the commander of the Italian army, inspired with
admiration by the desperate valor of the loyal knight, released him
and did honor him greatly. And how this noble knight, my father's
ancestor, followed the Emperor Frederick to the Holy Land and fought
the Saracens. "And," added I, "my father's great book of heraldry
contains the legend of the curse which fell on our house through the
villainy of the Imperial Grand Chancellor of Blazonry, who was
commanded to devise and procure a brand new heraldic escutcheon for
our family.
"He blazoned our shield with the ominous motto, 'in der fix, Haben
nix,' over gules d'or on a stony field, which was sown to a harvest
of tares and oats, and embossed with a whirlwind rampant. As they
were in knightly honor bound to live up to the motto on their shield,
my ancestor were doomed to remain poor forever. At last they took
service with the free city of Hamburg, where they settled finally and
became honored citizens."
Happening to remember my mother's admonishment not to annoy people
with too much talk, I apologized to the young ladies. Smilingly, they
begged me to continue, for they seemed to enjoy my boyish prattle.
"Listen, now, girls," said Rose laughingly to her companions, "now, I
shall make him open his mother's closet and show us her choicest
family skeleton." "Oh, no, Miss Rose," I protested, "my mother has
indeed a great closet, but it is full of good things to eat and
contains no skeletons." "You little goosie-gander; you don't
understand," replied Miss Rose; "I was only joking. Of course your
mother kept the door carefully locked to keep you boys from
foraging?" "No madame," said I, "it was not necessary to lock the
door." "Did she keep a guard, then?" said Rose. "Oh, yes," I replied,
"and it was very hard to pass in without being knocked down." "Was it
a man?" she asked mischievously. "Why, yes; mamma kept a strong, old
Limburger right behind the door," I said.
When the girls had ceased laughing, Rose said, "What did your mother
tell you when you left for America?" "My mother," I answered,
"implored me with tearful eyes to ever remember how my father's
great-great-grandmother Brunhilde (who was exceedingly beautiful) was
enticed into the depths of a dark forest by a wily, old German King.
Indiscreetly and unsuspectingly she followed him. There clandestinely
did he favor her graciously by adding a bar sinister to our knightly
escutcheon and a strain of the blood royal to our family. This
happened long, long ago in the dark ages or some other dark place--it
may have been the Schwarzwald--and it was the curse of the stony
field that did it.
" 'Oh, my son,' mother urged me, 'we count on you to restore the
unaccountably long-lost prestige of our ancient family. In America,
behind the counters of your uncle's counting-rooms, you shall acquire
great wealth, and his Majesty the Kaiser will be pleased to re-invest
you with the coronet of a count. Then, as a noble count will you be
of some account in the exclusive circle of the four hundred of the
great city of New York. Beautiful heiresses will crave the favor of
your acquaintance, and if wise, you will lead the most desirable one
on the market, the lovely Miss Billiona Roque-a-Fellaire to the
altar. His Majesty the Kaiser will then graciously change the
"no-account" words on our family's escutcheon to the joyful motto,
"Mit Geld," and lift the blighting curse from our noble house.' "
Next I related how surprised I was when I saw the great city of New
York. However, I expected to see a large city of many houses, ever so
high and some higher yet, and therefore I was not so very much
surprised, after all. But in Illinois I first saw the wonderful
forest. Oh, the virgin forest! Never had I seen such grand, beautiful
trees, oak and hickory, ash and sycamore, maple, elm, and many more
giant trees, unknown to me, and peopled by a multitude of wild birds
of the brightest plumage. There were birds and squirrels everywhere!
I actually saw a sky-blue bird with a topknot, and another of a
bright scarlet color, and gorgeous woodpeckers who were too busy
hammering to look at me even. Oh, but they did not sing like the
birds in Germany! All were very grave and sad. They seemed to know,
as everybody else did, that I was a stranger in their land, for they
gave me all sorts of useful Information and advice, with many nods of
their little heads.
"Peep, peep!" counseled the bluebird. "Thank you," I replied, "seeing
is believing." "Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will," cried a large,
spotted bird. "That," thought I, "is a prize fighter." "Cheat,
cheat!" urged a pious-looking cardinal, who evidently mistook me for
a gambler. "Don't," roared a bullfrog, who was seated on a log and
winked his eye at me. "There is an honest man," I thought. "Shake,
good sir." In consternation and surprise, I instantly released his
hand. "HOW is it possible to be both honest and slippery at the same
time! This must be a Yankee-man," thought I. I saw real moss, green
and velvety as the richest carpet, and I drank of singing, bubbling
waters. Many kinds of berries and nuts, hard to crack, grew in the
wild glens of the forest. I gathered flowers, larger and more
beautiful than any I had ever seen, but they lacked the perfume of
German flowers; only the roses were the same.
Many children did I see, but they had not the rosy cheeks of German
children. And I met the strongest of all beasts on earth and tracked
him to his native lair; and there, in the sacred groves of the
Illini, I worried him sorely, and as David did unto Goliath, so did I
unto him; and sundown come, I slew him. And for three-score days and
ten the smoke of battle scented the balmy air.
The young ladles laughed heartily and said that never before had they
been so delightfully entertained, and they gave me sweets and nice
things to eat, and said they hoped I might stay with them forever and
a day. We exchanged confidences, and they warned me to beware of the
landlord, who had been known to rob people. They advised me to
secrete my money, if perchance I had any. I thanked them kindly,
replying that I had only one dollar in my purse. This was true, but I
did not tell them that I had sewed a large sum in banknotes and some
German silver into my kite's tail when I set out on my journey to the
West.
I complimented these charming girls on their good fortune to be in
the service of so generous a gentleman as their landlord seemed to
be; for I saw that they wore very fine dresses and had many jewels.
"Why, you little greenie," said Miss Rose, "he does not pay us high
wages." "Oh, I see, how romantic! how nice!" exclaimed I. "You do as
the ladies in the good old time of chivalry, when knights donned
their colors and sallied forth to battle with lions and tigers. You
crave largesse, and the gentlemen favor you with money and jewels."
Then the youngest girl laughed and said, "Oh, you pore, innicent
bairn, and how do yez ken all this? and how did yez know that Misther
Payterson kapes a tiger at all, at all, begorra!" Another young lady
said, "Dutchy, I reckon yore daddy is a right smart cunning old fox!"
"Madame," replied I, indignantly, "my father is no fox, but a
minister of the Gospel." "Oh, this bye is the son of a praste,"
screamed the loveliest girl in all Missouri. "Indade, I misthrusted
the little scamp. Och! oh and where is me brooch? I thought all the
time the little divvil was afther something. Thieves! Murther!"
Confusion in pandemonium now reigned supreme. For one precious moment
the air seemed full of long-legged stockings and delicate hands and
purses. Luckily, the brooch was found and peace restored at once. And
Rose said, "Oh, girls, how could you!" and she begged my pardon and
said they did not mean it. And then I made myself very useful and
agreeable to these lovely maids, lacing their shoes and dusting their
chamber, and right gallantly did I serve them until evening.
After supper reappeared my evil genius in the person of the landlord,
who took me out to the woodshed. "Dutchy, I have decided to adopt you
as my only son; have you ever bucked a wood saw?" said he, and a
sardonic leer distorted his evil features. After I recovered
sufficiently from the shock, I answered indignantly, "Sir, know ye
not that I have pledged my service to the vestal virgins of yon
temple?" "Ha! Ha!" laughed the villain, "get busy now, son, and if by
morning this wood has not been cut, you will go minus your
breakfast." Thereupon he locked me in.
Caught as a rat in a trap, I had no alternative but to comply with
this man's outrageous demands. Despairingly I plied that abominable
instrument of torture, the national bucksaw of America. This is the
only American institution I could never accustom myself to. I have
endured bucking bronchos in New Mexico, I have bucked the tiger in
Arizona, but to buck a wood-saw--perish the thought! Sore and weary,
I lay down in a corner of the shed on some hay and fell asleep. I
dreamed that I heard screams of women, mingled with song and
laughter, and through it all the noise of music and dancing. Then the
dream changed into a horrible nightmare in the shape of a big
sawhorse which kicked at me and threatened me with hard labor.
Toward morning, when the door was opened and a drunken ruffian
entered, I awoke from my troubled slumbers. "Hi, Dutchy, and have yez
any tin?" he threatened. "Kind sir," I replied, "when I departed for
the West I left all my wealth behind me." Verily, now I was proving
myself the worthy scion of valiant men, who had laid aside hauberk,
sword, and lance, taken up the Bible and stole, and thenceforth
fought only with the weapon of Samson, the strong!
"And so yez are, by special appointment, chamberlain to the gurruls
by day, and ivver sawing wood at nighttime! Bedad! I'll shpile the
thrick for Misther Payterson, the thaving baste, and take this little
greenhorn out of his clutches and sind him about his business." With
these words, he opened the door for me and I escaped.
Farewell, lovely maids of Kansas and Missouri! If mayhap this writing
comes to you, oh, let us meet again; my heart yearns to greet you and
your granddaughters. For surely, though it seems to me as yesterday,
the blossoms of forty summers have fallen in our path and whitened
our hair.
CHAPTER II. PERILOUS JOURNEY
After several days I arrived at the end of my railway journey,
Junction City, without delay or accident. The trip was not lacking in
interesting details. The monotony of the never ending prairie was at
times enlivened by herds of buffalo and antelope. On one occasion
they delayed our train for several hours. An enormous herd of
thousands upon thousands of buffalo crossed the railroad track in
front of our train. Bellowing, crowding, and pushing, they were not
unlike the billows of an angry sea as it crashes and foams over the
submerged rocks of a dangerous coast. Their rear guard was made up of
wolves, large and small. They followed the herd stealthily, taking
advantage of every hillock and tuft of buffalo grass to hide
themselves. The gray wolf or lobo, larger and heavier than any dog,
and adorned with a bushy tall was a fierce-looking animal, to be
sure. The smaller ones were called coyotes or prairie wolves, and are
larger than foxes and of a gray-brown color. These are the scavengers
of the plains, and divide their prey with the vultures of the air.
At times we passed through villages of the prairie dog, consisting of
numberless little mounds, with their owners sitting erect on top.
When alarmed, they would yelp and dive into their lairs in the earth.
These little rodents share their habitations with a funny-looking
little owl and the rattlesnake. I believe, however, that the snake is
not there as a welcome visitor, but comes in the role of a
self-appointed assessor and tax gatherer. I picked up and adopted a
little bulldog which had been either abandoned on the cars or lost by
its owner, not then thinking that this little Cerberus, as I called
it, should later prove, on one occasion, to be my true and only
friend when I was in dire distress and in the extremity of peril.
The town of Junction City, which numbered less than a score of
buildings and tents, was in a turmoil of excitement, resembling a
nest of disturbed hornets. Several hundred angry-looking men crowded
the only street, every one armed to the teeth. The great majority
were dark- skinned Mexicans, but here and there I noticed the
American frontiersman, the professional buffalo hunter and scout.
These were men of proved courage, and I observed that the Mexicans
avoided looking them squarely In the face; and when meeting on the
public thoroughfare, they invariably gave them precedence of passage.
I found opportunity to hire out to a pleasant-looking young Mexican
as driver of a little two-mule provision wagon. In this manner I
earned my passage across the plains. Don Jose Lopez, that was his
name, said that I need not do much actual work, as he would have his
peons attend to the care of the mules and have them harness up as
well. He also told me that we would have to delay our departure until
every team present in the town had its cumulation of cargo. They
dared not travel singly, he said, for the Indians were very hostile.
In consequence whereof our departure was delayed for six weeks. I
camped with the Mexicans and accustomed myself very soon to their
mode of living. The fact that I understood their language and spoke
it quite well was a never-ending surprise and mystery to them. I took
dally walks over the prairie to the junction of two creeks, a short
distance from the town, bathed and whiled away the time with target
practice, and soon became very proficient in the use of firearms.
The banks of these little streams would have made a delightful picnic
ground, covered as they were by a luxuriant growth of grasses and
bushes and some large trees also, mostly of the cottonwood variety.
But there were no families of ladies and children here to enjoy the
lovely spot. A feeling of intense uneasiness seemed to pervade the
very air and a weird presentiment of impending horror covered the
prairie as with a ghostly shroud. The specter of a wronged,
persecuted race ever haunted the white man's conscience. In vain did
the red man breast the rising tide of civilization. In their sacred
tepees, their medicine men invoked the aid of their great Spirit and
they were answered.
The Spirit sent them for an ally, an army of grasshoppers, which
darkened the sun by its countless numbers. It impeded the progress of
the iron horse, but not for long. Then he sent them continued drouth,
but the pale face heeded not. "Onward, westward ever, the star of
empire took its course."
We camped out on the prairie within a short distance and in full
sight of the town. I made the acquaintance of a merchant, Mr. Samuel
Dreifuss, who kept a little store of general merchandise. This
gentleman liked to converse with me in the German tongue and was very
kind to me, even offering to employ me at a liberal salary, which I,
of course, thankfully declined. One morning after breakfast I went to
this store to purchase an article of apparel. The door was unlocked
and I entered, but found no one present. I waited a while, and as Mr.
Dreifuss did not appear, I knocked at the bedroom door, which was
connected with the store. Receiving no response to my knocks, I
opened the door and entered. There was poor Mr. Dreifuss lying stone
dead on his couch. I knew that he was dead, for his hands were cold
and clammy to the touch. I was struck with astonishment. The day
before had I spoken to him, when he appeared to be hale and hearty.
There were some ugly, black spots on his face, and I thought that it
was very queer. I did not see any marks of violence on his person and
nothing unusual about the premises. I looked around carefully, as a
boy is apt to do when something puzzles him. Then I thought I would
go up-town and tell about this strange circumstance.
The store was the first building met with in the town if a person
came from the railway station. As I went toward the next house, which
was a short distance away, I was hailed by a tall, broad-shouldered
man with long hair, who commanded me to halt. I kept right on,
however, meaning to tell him about my gruesome discovery. As I
advanced toward him he retreated, and I called to him to have no
fear, as I did not intend to shoot. The big man shook with laughter
and cried, "Hold, boy, stop there a minute until I tell you
something. They say that 'Wild Bill' never feared man, but I fear
you, a mere boy. Did you come out of that store?" "Yes, sir," I said.
"And did you see the Jew?" "Yes, sir," I answered; "Mr. Dreifuss is
dead." "How do you know that?" he questioned. "His hands feel cold as
ice," I said, "and there is a black spot on his nose." Again the man
laughed and said, "Do you know what killed him?" "I do not know,
sir," I answered, "but I was going uptown to inquire." "Well," said
the scout, "Mr. Dreifuss had the cholera." "That's too bad," said I;
"let us go back and see if we can be of any assistance." "No, you
don't," said the long-haired scout; "I have been stationed here, as
marshal of the town, to warn people away from the place. You take my
advice and go to the creek and plunge in with all your clothes and
play for an hour in the water, then dry yourself, go back to camp,
and keep mum!" This was the year of the cholera. It started somewhere
down south, and many people died from it in the city of St. Louis,
and it followed the railway through Kansas to the end of the track.
Many soldiers died also at Fort Harker, which was farther out West on
the plains.
At last we started on our perilous journey, an imposing caravan of
one hundred and eighty wagons, each drawn by five yoke of oxen. Our
force numbered upward of two hundred and fifty men, the owners,
teamsters, train masters or mayordomos and the herders of the
different outfits; all were Mexicans except myself.
Several days were spent in crossing the little stream formed by the
confluence of two creeks. The water was quite deep and had to be
crossed by means of a ferryboat. Here I met with my first adventure,
which nearly cost me my life. My wagon was loaded with supplies and
provisions and with several pieces of oak timber, intended for use in
our train. When I drove down the steep bank on to the ferryboat, the
timbers, which were not well secured, slid forward and pushed me off
my seat, so that I fell right under the mules just as they stepped on
the ferry. The frightened mules trampled and kicked fearfully. I lay
still, thinking that if I moved they would step on me, as their hoofs
missed my head by inches only. I thought of my mother and how sorry
she would be if she could see me now, but I was thinking, ever
thinking and lay very still. Then my guardian angel, in the person of
a Mexican, crawled under the wagon from the rear end and pulled me by
my heels, back to safety under the wagon. When I came out from under
I threw my hat in the air and gave a whoop and cheer, at which the
Mexicans were greatly enthused. They yelled excitedly and our
mayordomo exclaimed: "Caramba, mira que diablito!" (Egad, see the
little devil!)
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