Southport telegraph. [volume] (Southport, W.T. [i.e. Kenosha, Wis.]) 1840-1850, 1846-07-28
BILL DEAN, THE TEXAS RANGER

Kendall, Of the sPicayune,' who was al.
Matamoras on the 18th ut, describes in a
letter in that paper, an extraordinary jo-
ker he has lately fallen in with. Such an
exposition Of the culinary art on the Tex
as prairies, we have never seen before -
We would 10 miles to see Bill Dean and
hear him tell the story-which Kendall
thus hits off:
Rare wags may be found among the
Texas volunteers, yet the funniest fellow
of all is happy golucky chap named Bill
Dean, and of Chevaler's spy company,
and said 10 be one Of the best "seven up''
players in all Texas. While at Corpus
Christi, a lot Of US were setting out on the
stoop of the Kinney House, early one
morning, when along came Bill DEAN
He did not know single soul in the
crowd, although he knew wo were all
bound for the Rio Grande; yet the fact
that the formalities Of an introduction had
not been gone throug with; did not prevent
his stopping short in his walk and accost-
ing US. His speech or harangue, or what
ever it may be termed, will lose much in
The telling, yet endeavor TO put it upon
paper in as good shape as possible.
'Oh, yes said he, with a knowing leer
of the eye: ''oh, yes; all going down a.
mong the robbers on the Rio Grande, are
you! Fine times you'll have, over the
left. I've been there, myself and done
what great many Of you won't dol
come back: but if didn't see natural hill
in August at that am teapot
Lived eight days on one poor hawk and
three blackberries-could'n nj kill prairie
rat on the whole route to save US from star
walton. The ninth day como and we struck
small streak of good luck-a horse give
out and broke down, plumb out in the CEN
tire Of an open praire--not stick big E.
nough TO tickle a ratilesnake with, let alone
killing him Just had time to save the
critter by shootin' him, and that was all,
for in three minutes longer he'd have died
natural death. Ii didn't. take US long to
/ butcher him, nor cut off some chunks Of
meat and stick 'em on our ramrods; but the
cook.n' was another matter. piled up a
heap of prairie grass, for it was high and
! dry, and sot it on fire; but it flashed up
like powder, and went out as quick. But
did you cook your horsemeat after that!
'How?
yes, howT
why, the fire caught the grass close by,
and the wind carried the flames 's;reakin'
across the prairie. followed up the fire,
holding my chunk Of meat directly over
the blaze, and the way we went it was a
caution 10 anything shor. of locomotive
doin's. Once in while little furry of
wind would come along, ard the fire would
get few yards the start; but I'D brush up
on her, lap her with my chunk, and then
we'd have it again, nip and chuck. You
never seed such tight race-h was beauti-
! full
Very, we've no doubt CALCULATED one
of the listeners, interrupting the mad wag
just in season 10 give him little breath
but did you cook your meat in the endi'
Not bad didn't | chased that id
fire mile and half, the almigh.iest race
you ever heer'd tell on, and never give il
up until | run her right plumb into a we
marsh, there the fire and chunk horsemsai
came out even-a dead heat, specially the
meat
But wasn't i, cookedP pu, in another OF
the listeners.
Cooked -no!-just crusied over a lit
lie. You don't cook broken down horse
flesh very easy, no how; but when it comes
10 chasing up prairie fire with a chunk
of il, don't know which Is the toughest,
the meat or the job. You'd have laugh