A quarter race in Kentucky and other sketches, illustrative of scenes, characters, and incidents throughout "the universal Yankee nation." |
OLD SINGLETIRE, |
A quarter race in Kentucky | ||
OLD SINGLETIRE,
THE MAN THAT WAS NOT ANNEXED.
BY THE LATE ROBERT PATTERSON, ESQ., OF LOUISIANA.
The writer of the following incident was a long time associated
with the author of "Tom Owen, the Bee Hunter"—T. B.
Thorpe, Esq.—in editing the "Concordia Intelligencer." He
was a remarkably clever man, and his early death last season
has deprived his contemporaries of a most entertaining and
worthy member of the "press gang."
A good story is told of this bold frontiersman, who
had made himself notorious, and given his character the
bend sinister, by frequent depredations on both sides the
boundary line between Texas and the United States.
The old fellow had migrated thither from parts unknown,
years since, knew every foot of country for fifty miles
on either side in his vicinity, and had communication
by runners with many "birds of the same feather," then
common in the region.
The old fellow saw, with sorrow and regret, the rapid
influx of population within the last ten years, and was
compelled gradually to narrow his sphere of usefulness,
for, said he, "People's a gittin too thick about me—tha
and their varmints and critters is fillin up the woods and
spilin the huntin—and then tha aint no chance for a fellar
to speculate upon travellers as tha used to be when
tha wan't any body to watch a fellar:—why, tha is getten
of double-rectified 'thout havin' em all abusin' him
about it—and then ef he doas happen jist by accident to
drap half an ounce of lead into a feller, why tha is all
up in arms about it. Now t'other day when I wanted to
mark Joe Sliteses' ears like tha marks their hogs, 'case
he called me a vill-yan, they wanted to jewdicate me
afore the court. But cuse 'em for a set of blasted fools
they aint a gwoin to fool `Old Singletire' ef he is
a gitten old and ain't as quick on the trigger as he used
to was.
"Blast their skins, I don't care ef tha does annexate
Texas! I'll show 'em somethin—tho' tha thinks tha is
got me slick when tha git the two countries wedged up
into one—but I'll fix em, I'll quit and go to Arkansaw
—whar a decent white man kin live 'thout bein' pestered,
and bused and jewdicated!"
"Old Single" as he was called, for short, had several
years previous to the late discussion of the annexation
question, with singular 'cuteness ascertained the precise
line dividing the two territories, and built his cabin
thereon in such a position that when lying down—he
slept, one half in the United States, and the other half in
Texas, for he lay at right angles with the line.
The authorities of both sides had frequently found him
in that position, but as their separate claims lay severally
on the entire individual, they were not content to arrest
one half of him at a time. A great deal of courtesy was
at times exhibited by the officers, each pressing the other
to break the forms of international law by pulling Old
Single bodily over either side the line. Each was up to
trap, and feared the other wished to trick him, and declined
Texas and the Union.
On one occasion they were exceedingly pressing on
the subject, at first politely so, then teasing each other,
and then daring by taunt, and jeer, and jibe, until they
worked themselves into such furious excitement that
"Old Single," their pretended victim, had to command
and preserve the peace—"Gentle-men," said
he, "you may fun, and fret, and quarrel jist as much as
you please in my house—but when tha is any lickin to
be done 'bout these diggins, why `Old Single' is
thar sure!—so look out boys, ef you strikes you dies:
—show your sense, make friends, and let's liker.
You," nodding to one, "hand me a gourd of water;
and, You," to another, "pass that bottle and I'll drink
to your better 'quaintance."
The day passed, "Old Single" crosses the line,
and one of the beauties on each side his cot, all going
it like forty at twenty-deck poker—a sociable game as
Sol. Smith says—and as remarked our informant, "the
old man was a perfect Cumanche horse at any game whar
tha was curds."
For the last three months "Old Single" had been
mightily distressed—"mighty oneasy bout annexation"
—for he knew he would be compelled to travel—well
the news of the action of Texas on this great question
was received in "Old Single's" vicinity on 29th of
June—the day it reached Fort Jessup.
Next morning "the boys" from Boston and De Kalb,
a couple of border villages—after a glory gathering
about annexation, determined to storm "Old Single"
and "rout" him. They accordingly, en masse a-la-
it, a consultation was held, and it was determined that
bloodshed was useless—as it was certain to occur if
violence was resorted to—and that a flag of truce should
be sent into the fortress, offering terms.
The old man was found in a gloomy mood, with
a pack strapped to his back, in woodsman style. "Old
Centresplit, his friend of thirty years' standing, his rifle,
his favourite—his all—was laid across his knees, and
he in deep thought, his eyes resting on vacancy. As
the delegation entered, he looked up, "Well, boys,
the time is cum, and Texas and you is annixated,
but I aint, and I aint a gwoin to be nuther!—so take
care how you raise my dander; I can shoot sum
yet!"
The party explained, and it was agreed the old fellow
should take up the march upon the line for the
nearest point on Red River, the party escorting him
at twenty paces distant on either side—that the last
mile should be run—that if he struck the water's edge
first, he should go free—if otherwise, he was to be
taken and rendered up a victim to the offended dignity
of the laws. "Agreed," said Old Single, "it's a
bargain. Boys, tha is a gallon in that barrel, let's
finish it in a friendly way, and then travel." The
thing was done, the travel accomplished, and the race,
fast and furious, was being done. The old fellow led
the crowd, hallooing at his topmost voice as he gained
the river—"Hoopee!—Hurrah!—I aint annixated!—
I'm off—I aint no whar—nuther in the States nor Texas,
but in Arkansaw!!!" swam to the opposite shore, fired
a volley, gave three cheers, and retired victorious.
A quarter race in Kentucky | ||