The War Trail | Page 5

few in number, and well worn; but many are
the garments of "Kentucky jeans" of bluish-grey, of copper-coloured
nigger cloth, and sky-coloured cottonade. Some wear coats made of
green blankets, others of blue ones, and some of a scarlet red. There are
hunting-shirts of dressed deerskin, with plaited skirt, and cape, fringed
and jauntily adorned with beads and embroidery--the favourite style of
the backwoods hunter, but others there are of true Indian cut--open only
at the throat, and hanging loose, or fastened around the waist with a
belt--the same that secures the knife and pistol. There are cloth jackets
too, such as are worn by sailors, and others of sky-blue cottonade--the
costume of the Creole of Louisiana; some of red-brown leather--the
jaqueta of the Spano-American; and still another fashion, the
close-fitting embroidered "spencer" of the Mexican ranchero. Some
shoulders are covered by serapes, and some by the more graceful and
toga-like manga. Look lower down: examine the limbs of the men of
this motley band: the covering of these is not less varied than their
upper garments. You see wrappers of coarse cloth, of flannel, and of
baize: they are blue, and scarlet, and green. You see leggings of raw
hide and of buckskin; boots of horse-leather reaching to the thighs;
"nigger boots" of still coarser fabric, with the pantaloons tucked under
brogans of unstained calf-skin, and moccasins of varied cut,
betokening the fashion of more than one Indian tribe. You may see

limbs encased in calzoneros, and others in the heavy stamped leather
botas of the Mexican horseman, resembling the greaves of warriors of
the olden time.
The heels of all are armed, though their armature is as varied as the
costumes. There are spurs of silver and steel, some plated, and some
with the plating worn off; some strapped, and others screwed into the
heel of the boot; some light, with small rowels and tiny teeth, while
others are seen (the heavy spur of Mexico) of several pounds' weight,
with rowels five inches in diameter, and teeth that might be dashed
through the ribs of a horse!--cruel weapons of the Mexican cavallero.
But these spurs in the piazza, these botas and calzoneros, these mangas
and serapes, are not worn by Mexicans. Their present wearers are men
of a different race. Most of those tall stalwart bodies are the product of
the maize-plant of Kentucky and Tennessee, or the buckwheat and
"hog-meat" of the fertile flats of Ohio, Indiana, and the Illinois. They
are the squatters and hunters of the backwoods, the farmers of the great
western slopes of the Alleghanies, the boatmen of the Mississippi, the
pioneers of Arkansas and Missouri, the trappers of prairie-land, the
voyageurs of the lake-country, the young planters of the lower states,
the French Creoles of Louisiana, the adventurous settlers of Texas, with
here and there a gay city spark from the larger towns of the "great
west." Yes, and from other sources are individuals of that mixed band. I
recognise the Teutonic type--the fair hair and whitish-yellow
moustache of the German, the florid Englishman, the staid Scot, and his
contrast the noisy Hibernian; both equally brave. I behold the adroit
and nimble Frenchman, full of laugh and chatter, the stanch soldierly
Swiss, and the moustached exile of Poland, dark, sombre, and silent.
What a study for an ethnologist is that band of odd-looking men! Who
are they?
You have thrice asked the question. I answer it. They are a corps of
"Rangers"--the guerilla of the American army.
And who am I? I am their captain--their chief.
Yes, I am the leader of that queer crew; and, despite their rough motley

aspect, I dare affirm, that not in Europe, not in America elsewhere, not
upon the great globe's surface, can be found a band, of like numbers, to
equal them in strength, daring, and warlike intelligence. Many of them
have spent half a life in the sharpening practice of border warfare--
Indian or Mexican--and from these the others have learnt. Some have
been gentlemen upon whom fortune has frowned; a few have been
desperadoes within the pale of civilised life; and a smaller few, perhaps,
outlaws beyond it--bad materials wherewith to colonise; not so bad, if
you go but to conquer.
Rude as is the coup d'oeil of the corps, I am proud to say that a high
sentiment of honour pervades it--higher than will be found in the
picked corps de garde of an emperor. True, they appear rough and
reckless-- terrible, I might say; for most of them--with their long beards
and hair, dust-begrimed faces, slouched hats, and odd habiliments,
belted as they are with knife, pistol, powder-horn, and pouch--present
such an aspect.
But you would wrong them to take them as they look. Few among them
are the pure bandits whose aim