“One morning as we skirted a mountain range, seeking a practicable pass, we were attacked by a band of Apaches who had followed our trail up a gulch — it is not far from here. Knowing that they outnumbered us ten to one, they took none of their usual cowardly precautions, but dashed upon us at a gallop, firing and yelling. Fighting was out of the question: we urged our feeble animals up the gulch as far as there was footing for a hoof, then threw ourselves out of our saddles and took to the chaparral on one of the slopes, abandoning our entire outfit to the enemy. But we retained our rifles, every man — Ramon Gallegos, William Shaw, George W. Kent and Berry Davis.”
“Same old crowd,” said the humorist of our party. He was an Eastern man, unfamiliar with the decent observances of social intercourse. A gesture of disapproval from our leader silenced him and the stranger proceeded with his tale:
“The savages dismounted also, and some of them ran up the gulch beyond the point at which we had left it, cutting off further retreat in that direction and forcing us on up the side. Unfortunately the chaparral extended only a short distance up the slope, and as we came into the open ground above we took the fire of a dozen rifles; but Apaches shoot badly when in a hurry, and God so willed it that none of us fell. Twenty yards up the slope, beyond the edge of the brush, were vertical cliffs, in which, directly in front of us, was a narrow opening. Into that we ran, finding ourselves in a cavern about as large as an ordinary room in a house. Here for a time we were safe: a single man with a repeating rifle could defend the entrance against all the Apaches in the land. But against hunger and thirst we had no defense. Courage we still had, but hope was a memory.
“Not one of those Indians did we afterward see, but by the smoke and glare of their fires in the gulch we knew that by day and by night they watched with ready rifles in the edge of the bush — knew that if we made a sortie not a man of us would live to take three steps into the open. For three days, watching in turn, we held out before our suffering became insupportable. Then — it was the morning of the fourth day — Ramon Gallegos said:
“‘Senores, I know not well of the good God and what please him. I have live without religion, and I am not acquaint with that of you. Pardon, senores, if I shock you, but for me the time is come to beat the game of the Apache.’
“He knelt upon the rock floor of the cave and pressed his pistol against his temple. ‘Madre de Dios,’ he said, ‘comes now the soul of Ramon Gallegos.’
“And so he left us — William Shaw, George W. Kent and Berry Davis.
“I was the leader: it was for me to speak.
“‘He was a brave man,’ I said—’he knew when to die, and how. It is foolish to go mad from thirst and fall by Apache bullets, or be skinned alive — it is in bad taste. Let us join Ramon Gallegos.’
“‘That is right,’ said William Shaw.
“‘That is right,’ said George W. Kent.
“I straightened the limbs of Ramon Gallegos and put a handkerchief over his face. Then William Shaw said: ‘I should like to look like that — a little while.’
“And George W. Kent said that he felt that way, too.
“‘It shall be so,’ I said: ‘the red devils will wait a week. William Shaw and George W. Kent, draw and kneel.’
“They did so and I stood before them.
“‘Almighty God, our Father,’ said I.
“‘Almighty God, our Father,’ said William Shaw.
“‘Almighty God, our Father,’ said George W. Kent.
“‘Forgive us our sins,’ said I.
“‘Forgive us our sins,’ said they.
“‘And receive our souls.’
“‘And receive our souls.’
“‘Amen!’
“‘Amen!’
“I laid them beside Ramon Gallegos and covered their faces.”
There was a quick commotion on the opposite side of the campfire: one of our party had sprung to his feet, pistol in hand.
“And you!” he shouted—”YOU dared to escape? — you dare to be alive? You cowardly hound, I’ll send you to join them if I hang for it!”
But with the leap of a panther the captain was upon him, grasping his wrist. “Hold it in, Sam Yountsey, hold it in!”
We were now all upon our feet — except the stranger, who sat motionless and apparently inattentive. Some one seized Yountsey’s other arm.
“Captain,” I said, “there is something wrong here. This fellow is either a lunatic or merely a liar — just a plain, every-day liar whom Yountsey has no call to kill. If this man was of that party it had five members, one of whom — probably himself — he has not named.”
“Yes,” said the captain, releasing the insurgent, who sat down, “there is something — unusual. Years ago four dead bodies of white men, scalped and shamefully mutilated, were found about the mouth of that cave. They are buried there; I have seen the graves — we shall all see them to-morrow.”
The stranger rose, standing tall in the light of the expiring fire, which in our breathless attention to his story we had neglected to keep going.
“There were four,” he said—”Ramon Gallegos, William Shaw, George W. Kent and Berry Davis.”
With this reiterated roll-call of the dead he walked into the darkness and we saw him no more.
At that moment one of our party, who had been on guard, strode in among us, rifle in hand and somewhat excited.
“Captain,” he said, “for the last half-hour three men have been standing out there on the mesa.” He pointed in the direction taken by the stranger. “I could see them distinctly, for the moon is up, but as they had no guns and I had them covered with mine I thought it was their move. They have made none, but, damn it! they have got on to my nerves.”
“Go back to your post, and stay till you see them again,” said the captain. “The rest of you lie down again, or I’ll kick you all into the fire.”
The sentinel obediently withdrew, swearing, and did not return. As we were arranging our blankets the fiery Yountsey said: “I beg your pardon, Captain, but who the devil do you take them to be?”
“Ramon Gallegos, William Shaw and George W. Kent.”
“But how about Berry Davis? I ought to have shot him.”
“Quite needless; you couldn’t have made him any deader. Go to sleep.”
FANTASTIC FABLES
Fantastic Fables appeared in 1899, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons of New York. Employing his often skewering, yet droll, wit in these 245 satiric fables, Bierce attacks hypocrites and humbugs of all kinds, from politicians to preachers to medical men. A contemporary review in The Literary World described the humor in Bierce’s fables as “genuine. There is at times a suggestion of cynicism, but of a cynicism that is good natured and while it barks, it never bites…The person that can read this handsome little book without a succession of broad smiles must be well-nigh destitute of humor.” The Critic proclaimed that “the book will…be a mine for jaded after-dinner speakers.” Book Notes described the collection as “an up-to-date breviary of wit and wisdom.”
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
First edition, first issue, 1899 G.P. Putnam’s Sons
Bierce, 1892
The Moral Principle and the Material Interest
A Moral Principle met a Material Interest on a bridge wide enough for but one.
“Down, you base thing!” thundered the Moral Principle, “and let me pass over you!”
The Material Interest merely looked in the other’s eyes without saying anything.
“Ah,” said the Moral Principle, hesitatingly, “let us draw lots to see which shall retire till the other has crossed.”
The Material Interest maintained an unbroken silence and an unwavering stare.
“In order to avoid a conflict,” the Moral Principle resumed, somewhat uneasily, “I shall myself lie down and let you walk over me.”
Then the Material Interest found a tongue, and by a strange coincidence it was its own tongue. “I don’t thi
nk you are very good walking,” it said. “I am a little particular about what I have underfoot. Suppose you get off into the water.”
It occurred that way.
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Crimson Candle
A man lying at the point of death called his wife to his bedside and said:
“I am about to leave you forever; give me, therefore, one last proof of your affection and fidelity, for, according to our holy religion, a married man seeking admittance at the gate of Heaven is required to swear that he has never defiled himself with an unworthy woman. In my desk you will find a crimson candle, which has been blessed by the High Priest and has a peculiar mystical significance. Swear to me that while it is in existence you will not remarry.”
The Woman swore and the Man died. At the funeral the Woman stood at the head of the bier, holding a lighted crimson candle till it was wasted entirely away.
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Blotted Escutcheon and the Soiled Ermine
A Blotted Escutcheon, rising to a question of privilege, said:
“Mr. Speaker, I wish to hurl back an allegation and explain that the spots upon me are the natural markings of one who is a direct descendant of the sun and a spotted fawn. They come of no accident of character, but inhere in the divine order and constitution of things.”
When the Blotted Escutcheon had resumed his seat a Soiled Ermine rose and said:
“Mr. Speaker, I have heard with profound attention and entire approval the explanation of the honourable member, and wish to offer a few remarks on my own behalf. I, too, have been foully calumniated by our ancient enemy, the Infamous Falsehood, and I wish to point out that I am made of the fur of the Mustela maculata, which is dirty from birth.”
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Ingenious Patriot
Having obtained an audience of the King an Ingenious Patriot pulled a paper from his pocket, saying:
“May it please your Majesty, I have here a formula for constructing armour-plating which no gun can pierce. If these plates are adopted in the Royal Navy our warships will be invulnerable, and therefore invincible. Here, also, are reports of your Majesty’s Ministers, attesting the value of the invention. I will part with my right in it for a million tumtums.”
After examining the papers, the King put them away and promised him an order on the Lord High Treasurer of the Extortion Department for a million tumtums.
“And here,” said the Ingenious Patriot, pulling another paper from another pocket, “are the working plans of a gun that I have invented, which will pierce that armour. Your Majesty’s Royal Brother, the Emperor of Bang, is anxious to purchase it, but loyalty to your Majesty’s throne and person constrains me to offer it first to your Majesty. The price is one million tumtums.”
Having received the promise of another check, he thrust his hand into still another pocket, remarking:
“The price of the irresistible gun would have been much greater, your Majesty, but for the fact that its missiles can be so effectively averted by my peculiar method of treating the armour plates with a new—”
The King signed to the Great Head Factotum to approach.
“Search this man,” he said, “and report how many pockets he has.”
“Forty-three, Sire,” said the Great Head Factotum, completing the scrutiny.
“May it please your Majesty,” cried the Ingenious Patriot, in terror, “one of them contains tobacco.”
“Hold him up by the ankles and shake him,” said the King; “then give him a check for forty-two million tumtums and put him to death. Let a decree issue declaring ingenuity a capital offence.”
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
Two Kings
The King of Madagao, being engaged in a dispute with the King of Bornegascar, wrote him as follows:
“Before proceeding further in this matter I demand the recall of your Minister from my capital.”
Greatly enraged by this impossible demand, the King of Bornegascar replied:
“I shall not recall my Minister. Moreover, if you do not immediately retract your demand I shall withdraw him!”
This threat so terrified the King of Madagao that in hastening to comply he fell over his own feet, breaking the Third Commandment.
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
An Officer and a Thug
A Chief of Police who had seen an Officer beating a Thug was very indignant, and said he must not do so any more on pain of dismissal.
“Don’t be too hard on me,” said the Officer, smiling; “I was beating him with a stuffed club.”
“Nevertheless,” persisted the Chief of Police, “it was a liberty that must have been very disagreeable, though it may not have hurt. Please do not repeat it.”
“But,” said the Officer, still smiling, “it was a stuffed Thug.”
In attempting to express his gratification, the Chief of Police thrust out his right hand with such violence that his skin was ruptured at the arm-pit and a stream of sawdust poured from the wound. He was a stuffed Chief of Police.
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Conscientious Official
While a Division Superintendent of a railway was attending closely to his business of placing obstructions on the track and tampering with the switches he received word that the President of the road was about to discharge him for incompetency.
“Good Heavens!” he cried; “there are more accidents on my division than on all the rest of the line.”
“The President is very particular,” said the Man who brought him the news; “he thinks the same loss of life might be effected with less damage to the company’s property.”
“Does he expect me to shoot passengers through the car windows?” exclaimed the indignant official, spiking a loose tie across the rails. “Does he take me for an assassin?”
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
How Leisure Came
A Man to Whom Time Was Money, and who was bolting his breakfast in order to catch a train, had leaned his newspaper against the sugar-bowl and was reading as he ate. In his haste and abstraction he stuck a pickle-fork into his right eye, and on removing the fork the eye came with it. In buying spectacles the needless outlay for the right lens soon reduced him to poverty, and the Man to Whom Time Was Money had to sustain life by fishing from the end of a wharf.
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Moral Sentiment
A Pugilist met the Moral Sentiment of the Community, who was carrying a hat-box. “What have you in the hat-box, my friend?” inquired the Pugilist.
“A new frown,” was the answer. “I am bringing it from the frownery — the one over there with the gilded steeple.”
“And what are you going to do with the nice new frown?” the Pugilist asked.
“Put down pugilism — if I have to wear it night and day,” said the Moral Sentiment of the Community, sternly.
“That’s right,” said the Pugilist, “that is right, my good friend; if pugilism had been put down yesterday, I wouldn’t have this kind of Nose to-day. I had a rattling hot fight last evening with—”
“Is that so?” cried the Moral Sentiment of the Community, with sudden animation. “Which licked? Sit down here on the hat-box and tell me all about it!”
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Politicians
An Old Politician and a Young Politician were travelling through a beautiful country, by the dusty highway which leads to the City of Prosperous Obscurity. Lured by the flowers and the shade and charmed by the songs of birds which invited to woodland paths and green fields, his imagination fired by glimpses of golden domes and glittering palaces in the distance on either hand, the Young Politician said:
“Let us, I beseech thee, turn aside from this comfortless road leading, thou knowest whither, but not I. Let us turn our b
acks upon duty and abandon ourselves to the delights and advantages which beckon from every grove and call to us from every shining hill. Let us, if so thou wilt, follow this beautiful path, which, as thou seest, hath a guide-board saying, ‘Turn in here all ye who seek the Palace of Political Distinction.’”
“It is a beautiful path, my son,” said the Old Politician, without either slackening his pace or turning his head, “and it leadeth among pleasant scenes. But the search for the Palace of Political Distinction is beset with one mighty peril.”
“What is that?” said the Young Politician.
“The peril of finding it,” the Old Politician replied, pushing on.
Table of Contents for the Fantastic Fables
The Thoughtful Warden
The Warden of a Penitentiary was one day putting locks on the doors of all the cells when a mechanic said to him:
“Those locks can all be opened from the inside — you are very imprudent.”
The Warden did not look up from his work, but said:
Complete Works of Ambrose Bierce (Delphi Classics) Page 95