CORPUS CHRISTI, February 6.
We ended our scout yesterday, and camped at Captain
Hunter's last night — Mother can now rest her soul in peace as
I have done with scoutings and have replaced the free and easy
belt and revolver for the black silk suspenders and the fire
badge of civilization. I am still covered with 11 days dirt
but will get lots of good things to eat and drink and smoke
at Corpus Christi to night, where I will stay for two days. I
am writing this on the car and a ranger is shooting splinters
out of the telegraph poles from the window in front and has a
New York drummer in a state of absolute nervous prostration.
I met the Rangers last night as we came into camp and find
them quite the most interesting things yet. They are just
what I expected to find here and have not disappointed me.
Everything else is either what we know it to be and know all
about or else is disappointingly commonplace. I mean we know
certain things are picturesque and I find them so but they
have been "done" to death and new material seems so scarce. I
am sometimes very fearful of the success of the letters —
However, the Rangers I simply loved. They were gentle voiced
and did not swear as the soldiers do and some of them were as
handsome men as I ever saw and
so big. And such children.
They showed me all their tricks at the request of the Adjutant
General, who looks upon them as his special property. They
shot four shots into a tree with a revolver, going at full
gallop, hit a mark with both hands at once, shot with the
pistol upside down and the Captain put eight shots into a
board with a Winchester, while I was putting two into the
field around it. We got along very well indeed and they were
quite keen for me to go back and chase Garza. They are sure
they have him now. I gave the Captain permission to put four
shots into my white helmet. He only put two and the rest of
the company thinking their reputations were at stake whipped
out their guns and snatched up their rifles and blazed away
until they danced the hat all over the ranch. Then remorse
overcame them and they proposed taking up
a collection to get me a sombrero, which I stopped. So Nora's
hat is gone but I am going to get another and save myself from
sunstroke again. The last part of the ride was enlivened by
the presence of three Mexican murderers handcuffed and chained
with iron bands around the neck, that is Texas civilization
isn't it —
I have had my dinner and a fine dinner it was with fresh
fish and duck and oysters and segars which I have not had for
a week. I am finishing this at Constantine's and will be here
for two days to write things and will then go on to King's
ranch and from there to San Antonio, where I will also rest a
week. I will just about get through my schedule in the ten
weeks at this rate. I had a good time in the bush and am
enjoying it very much though it is lonely now and then —
Still, it is very interesting and if the stories amount to
anything I will be pleased but I am constantly wondering how
on earth Chas stood it as he did. He is a hero to me for I
have some hope of getting back and he had not — He is a
sport — How I will sleep to night — a real bed and sheets and
pajamas, after the ground and the same clothes for eleven
days.
Lots of love.
DICK.
While Richard was travelling in the West, his second
volume of short stories, "Van Bibber and Others," was
published. The volume was dedicated to my father, who wrote
Richard the following letter:
