Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday "Colonel Crockett I" Sam ejaculatod. "Your fatiio is widespread. Sam llouston at your seivico." Uavy Crockett, renowned frontiersman and scout, had left Tennessee before Sam had liccome a celebrity in that Slate. But it was at once obvious that the name of Tennessee's fcintier K(>vernor was not unknown to him, for hrs faco lit up. "Well," he declared, "seems like I've heard tell of yo.i, too, sir. Er—permit me to intro- duce my friend Jim Bowie—from Georgia. A right handy knife-thrower." lie motioned to the other American, a stixky. thickset fellow whoso name was also a by-word in the West. Then, Sam havinp; piesented Laimie, the two newcomers learned tiom Davy Crockett that the grief-stricken woman who was bewailing- the loss of her hus- band was known as Senora Kstevan, and that he and .Jim Bowie had been enjoying the hospitality of tlie Eatevans when Bradburn and hit ('omanchea had attacked. Meanwhile the besiegers on the hillside had reopened (ire on the cabin, and now Sain and I.MMnie took it upon themselves to assist in the defence of the dwelling. Both of them were equipped with muskets aiul pistols, and they were soon in action- were r>i<'"Pina; fead through the splintered windows of the abode in company with the other members of the little garrison when Davy Crockett passed a remark to Lannie. " i judge this is your first visit to Texas, Mi.ster V^pchurch," "he drawled. "If so, you must think it a right unhealthy place." "Shucks, no!" Lannie proclaimed. "Huh, Sam Houston an' me have been in fights that would nuike this 'fiesta' of your'n look hke a church social. Why, I remember at the battle o' Horseshoe Bend " He stopped short as a Comanche bullet snatched off a sombrero he was wearing, the slug parting his grizzled locks in its flight. " You dropped your hat, Mister Upchurch," Davy Crockett said whimsically. Lannie gave tongue to a blistering oath and sent a shot towards the rocks that marked the position occupied by the Indians and their renegade associate—a shot that was but one of many which he discharged in the passage of the ne\t hour or so. The sun went down and the shades of night crept over the valley. With the coming of darkness the besiegers ceased fire, but the be- leaguered party in the cabin were not lulled into any sense of security by the silence that descended, and when Lannie proposed that he should steal forth and picket the environs of the dwelling as a safeguard against a surprise on.set his suggestion was approved. " We'll all take it in turns to do outpost duty," Sam told him before he left the abode. "I'll relieve you in half an hour." Lannie, having departed, Sam then turned to Davy Ciockett. "Say, doesn't the Mexican Governmcmt provide any defence against outrages of this kind?" he demanded. "Government?" Ciockett reiterated scorn- fully. "Listen, Mr. Houston, there's twenty thousand American settlers in Texas and a slew of decent God-fearing Mexicans, but this territory is so all-fired big an'- remote that the Mexican Government don't bother about us—except to bleed us white with taxation. " Settlements here are hundreds o' miles apart," he proceeded, "but if you could take in all of them in your travels you wouldn't find no evidence of decent government in any of 'em. There ain't no courts, there ain't no votin', there ain't no military defences, and there ain't no justice. There ain't nothin' but taxes and Injun raids and discontent and trouble." Sam Ho\iston's lids had contracted and his eyes were half-veiled, but an odd glitter was visible in them. "Why doesn't somebody do something about it?" he questioned. "There ain't nobody but Steve Austin," Jim Bowie interposed sombrely. "He runs Texas leastways, he runs the American part of it. Ho lives at Washington-on-the-Brazos, the biggest American settlement in the territory, and right now he should be on his way back there from Mexico City, where he's been parleyin' with General Santa Anna, dictator BOY'S CINEMA o' the I{C|)ublic. Davy an' 1 wore ridin' south to find out what had come o' that parley when wo stopped oir here at the Estcvan.s' place." A tragic voice broke in on the discu.isioii. It was the voice of the grief stiicken Senora Eatovan. " Tlio Seuor Austin will not light!" she moaned. "And .sonu'one who will light is what wo need. Always the Senor Au.stin talk of peace, but we ait- sick of jieace. We bleed with peace and we die of it." Beside herself with emotion, she held up her hands in n supplicating fashion. "Holy Molhei !" she implored. ".Send u? aid. Send us deliverance—here in this land of Texas. Send us—a leader." Sam Houston looked at her pityingly for a moment, then seemed to retire within him- self, and, reflecting upon her last words, ho had been standing there nuitoly for .some fifteen minutes when Davy Crockett inter- rupted his thoughts. "Mighty quiet outside," Crockett muttered. " I wonder if Bradburn and them varmints have vamoosed after all?" He had hardly uttered the words when foot- falls were heard approaching the cabin, and on the instant every man in the dwelling was on the alert and holding himself in readiness to pour lead through the windows. Lannie was responsible for those footfalls, however, and on being admitted to the abode he spoke in a breathless tone. "Thetn Comanches are out to sneak close an' stage a rush," he announced. "They ain't comin' down the hillside, though, where we might have a chance of pickin' them off by what little light there is. Cunnin' devils, they've worked around to the eastern end o' the valley and they're headin' here through a belt o' thick reed-grass." "How many of them in the party?" Sam Houston asked laconically. "I calc'late they're about thirty strong," Lannie replied. " W^e're sure up against it. And there ain't no windows on the east side o' the cabin. That's why they're drawin' in from that quarter." Sam Houston looked round at the meagre garrison. "We're precious few in number," he said. "But if we went out to meet them and made a sudden dash at them while they were still tangled up in that reed-grass, we might put them to fight with our surprise sortie." "Not a chance," grunted Lannie. "I've recoiinoilred the ground. Ji'h buro an' firm for about fifty yards east <>' the cabin. But beyond that, where the recrl grass starts, it's all mud an' oil. We louldn't drive into that muck an' take anyUidy by surprine." Sam was staring al him. "Oil?" he echoed. "Did you say oil? What kind of oil ?" It v.as Jim Bowie whr> enlightened him. "Natural oil Lcepin' oiita the ground, Houston. Huh, your frietid Mister Upchurch i.s right. We couldn't make a surprise sortie in that stuff. We've got a barrel o' powder here, though, an' plenty of shot—and before them Red devils bust in here an' take our scalps we'll give a good account of ourselves." He moved towards a pijwder-keg that stood broached in a corner of the Joom, but Sam Houston inteicefrted him. "Wait, Mr. JJowie," he said. "I got per- sonal use for that powder." "What do you mean—' personal use'?" Davy Crockett struck in. " VVe're all in this thing together." "And we're all going to get out of it to- gether," Sam stated. "You men make an infernal racket after I go." Without delaying to explain his purpose he picked up the barrel of powder and let him- self out of the cabin. Then, as the inmates of the abode began to raise their voices in song. h3 hastened eastward through the gloom at a crouching run and presently reached the edge of the oily swamp to which Lannie had referred. He detected squelching sounds in the heart of the thicket of reeds—sounds (hat told him the Comanches and their renegade associate were ploughing tediously through the mora.ss and were not far off. Realising that he had little time in which to act, he commenced to pour the contents of the powder-keg along the fringe of the swamp, forming a copious train. Then by means of the priming of his pistol he set light to that train. In the space of two or thiee seconds the whole line of combustilile material had fiared up, and almost immediately the edge of the morass caught fire, the blaze mounting swiftly and spreading rapidly through the reed-grass. Fanned by a wind that was blowing from the west, fed by the viscid fluid that had seeped up through the spongy soil of the quagmire. He fell in a heap at Sam's feet and lay there in a stupor December 30th, 1933.