"
"Reckon I'll wait to hear it offish-ul-ly before I speak."
"Reckon I will, too. Lots of time wasted talkin'."
"Reckon you're right."
They sat in silence for a full two hours. They smoked the first hour,
and they passed the second in their chairs without moving. They had
mastered the borderer's art of doing nothing thoroughly, when nothing
was to be done. Then a man came upon the porch and spoke to them. His
name was Burnet, David G. Burnet.
"Good mornin'. How is the new republic?" said "Deaf" Smith.
"So you know," said Burnet.
"We don't know, but we've guessed, Hank an' me. We saw things as they
was comin'."
"I reckon, too," said Karnes, "that we ain't a part of Mexico any more."
"No, we're a free an' independent republic. It was so decided last
night, and we've got nothing more to do now but to whip a nation of
eight millions, the fifty thousand of us."
"Well," said Smith philosophically, "it's a tough job, but it might be
did. I've heard tell that them old Greeks whipped the Persians when the
odds were powerful high against them."
"That is true," said Burnet, "and we can at least try. We give the
reason for declaring our independence. We assert to the world that the
Mexican republic has become a military despotism, that our agents
carrying petitions have been thrown in dungeons in the City of Mexico,
that we have been ordered to give up the arms necessary for our defence
against the savages, and that we have been deprived of every right
guaranteed to us when we settled here.
Pages:
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335