Free Recollections of Early Texas by John Holmes Jenkins

I was sleeping, and told him about it. The old man turned, muttered something about dreams, and bade me go to sleep. In a short time Mr. Collingsworth raised the alarm—all our horses were gone. The thieves had come within four feet of his bed and cut the horses loose and taken them off. We then had to strike out afoot to borrow horses before any pursuit could be made.
    Early the next morning six of us took their trail and followed them to Mr. Baker’s home, where they had tried in vain to get into the stables, and then moved on. We followed the trail five or six miles up Onion Creek and here we were forced to abandon our pursuit, for a violent rain and sleet storm fell upon us and we had to come back to Mr. Collingsworth’s. Here Mother and I were, twenty miles from home, and on foot. Then, too, we had left home in warm, bright weather and were unprepared for cold. I had on moccasins, pleasant and light in warm weather, but the coldest shoes on earth in cold weather. Mother bought a horse and rode home, while I walked.
    Upon reaching home we saw that they had found the body of the Indian I had killed, about a half-mile from the house, lying in the grass, wrapped in a fine Mackinaw blanket. Still a half-mile farther on they found another blanket, with spots of blood and a bullet hole through it, a quirt, an Indian headdress, and the grass over a space of ten feet square was wallowed down; indeed it was plain that another Indian had been badly hurt, if not killed, and carried off. If possible they always carried their wounded or dead home with them.This was to avoid having them scalped, it being a superstition that an Indian could never enter the Happy Hunting Ground if he lost his scalp, or for that matter, any part of his body. He must be whole—no limb or member missing.
    After a steady walk of twenty miles, it was of some satisfaction to find that the thieves had not escaped entirely unhurt, and although they had stolen our horses, I had killed two of them.
    There was a cowardly tribe among us, the Tonkawas, who were at peace with the whites, but hated all other Indians of every tribe. Only a short time before this a band of Wacoes had killed five of them while out hunting, and of course, this increased their hatred toward Indians. Hearing that I had killed one of their enemies, they came in a body, thirty of them, and insisted that I should go with them and show them the dead warrior. As we went, their excitement and speed increased, and every now and then they would trot on faster than ever, while I trotted with them, determined to keep up and see what they intended doing. When they discovered the body, they seemed wild with delight or frenzy. They sprang upon the body, scalped him, cut off both legs at the knees, both hands at the wrists, pulled out his fingernails and toenails, strung them around their necks, and then motioned for me to move aside. Seeing they meant further violence to the body, already horribly mutilated, I demanded why I must move. They said, “We must shoot him through the head for good luck.” I tried to stop them, but they would hear nothing, said they were compelled to shoot him for luck.
    I moved aside and they shot, tearing the head literally in pieces. They then went back to the house and camped, getting me to furnish them some beef. They boiled their beef, and the hands and feet of the dead Waco together, turning them with the same hands. Upon inquiry, I found they intended having a dance, and would feed their squaws onthe hands and feet of the dead Indian, believing that this would make them bring forth brave men who would hate their enemies and be able to endure hardness and face dangers. They erected a pole, to which they attached the scalp, hands, and feet of the Waco, and then with horrible yells and gestures, all danced around it, while the squaws constantly danced up to the pole and took bites from the hands and feet and then would go back and dance again. They