"Touched by the Gods"

AMONG the early stampeders to Arizona mining camps it was not quite clear why Claude Batailleur ("Burro Frenchy") fled from France to America in 1871. Nobody could understand his attempts in broken English to describe the Franco-Prussian war, in which he was a corporal in Louis Napoleon's infantry. They did not appre ciate the significance of "Burro Frenchy's" jumbled account of Marshal Bazaine, Mon sieur Cluseret, Bourbonism, Bonapartism, Monarchism, Republicanism and Commun ism of Gambetta's escape in a balloon dur ing the siege of Paris nor the Louvre and who set fire to it while the Commune raged, or who toppled down the statue of Napoleon Bonaparte in the Place of Vendome. But those who heard Frenchy talk sensed that he had been in some kind of trouble and that his war-nurse bride had tipped him off to leave. Adaptable to almost any changing scene of life, he had fitted into a number of pic tures in Europe since leaving his native town of Frangai, in Savoy, with but four teen cents in his pocket, in search of adven ture and fortune. He became a laundry worker at Paris, then, at the age of twenty four, owner and proprietor of his own laundry establishment-still in existence un der the direction of his descendants.

Endowed with good looks, a melodious voice, a sense of humor and a powerful physique, his popularity carried him to pro minence in his Paris trade guild. Through out his later years in America he treasured the memory of the year he was chosen king of the annual laundry festival by popular vote, and delighted in recalling that occas sion, when he was "the most important and most popular man of the day."

But the truth revealed that Corporal Batailleur, in addition to his laundry business, had been a loyal soldier engaged in the attempt to suppress the French Commune and it was they who were after him when he swam a river and made his getaway to the seacoast and then to America.

In America the chance of acquiring sudden riches obsessed him; his consistent aim was accumulation of wealth through any available means. His business instincts were shrewd and he managed to provide for himself and his dependents at all times. When the Western gold rush tempted him, he divided his savings by sending half of it to his wife, who was conducting the Paris laundry upon which he had turned his back. With the remainder, he started on foot for Colorado.

According to his own story, nothing but trouble contributed to his lot in the Colorado boom camps of Trinidad, Golden and Devil Spring. But, somehow or other, "Burro Frenchy" managed to swab frozen feet with carpenter's glue, hobble out of the Rocky Mountains and across the Santa Fé Trail, limp along the bank of the Rio Grande River and across New Mexico. At Silver City he joined the mining stampede to Globe in 1876, as a member of the "Mimbres Party."

The new bonanza camp of Globe lay 220 miles west of Silver City. No wagon trail led to it. Batailleur and six companions cleared and drove over the last 40 miles in record time, bringing to Globe the first conveyance to reach the new settlement which then contained not more than a dozen white men.

While Globe became the base of his operations in 1876, his restlessness led him into farther fields in search of gold, crossing trails with old Colorado friends in Arizona and in Old Mexico. His luck for many years was poor; he seemed to be only on the sidelines of everything that was happening.

During his 50 years at Globe, his English, except for profanity, never increased to any great extent. To this, he accumulated smatterings of Spanish and Apache lingo. When in town, he favored crowds in the dance halls with throbbing chansons and lilting ditties that came from the heart of vibrant Paris. The floors rang with coins showered at his feet, which he promptly spent back over the bar. His fighting fists carried marvelous wallops and the miners bet and won on every bout in which they matched him. After no more opponents were left, his backers taught him tricks of "Cousin Jack" wrestling and developed a ringer for the Cornish champion. But Frenchy expressed it, "all go limp lak ze rag."

Ten years after his hurried departure from France, the military authorities traced the missing corporal; sent him copies of citations and a few medals. Some pioneers insist that there were three; one in particular for running more than half a mile before the sweep of Prussian guns and de livering at a critical moment an important message across no-man's land. "Burro Frenchy" was then able to display real evidence of what he long had been trying to explain. But the miners who had profited by his prowess already knew that he was Mucho Hombre. As far as the Arizona miners were concerned, Frenchy's past could bury its dead. They were only interested in the present and opportunities to cash in on his rough and tumble accomplishments or enjoy his entertaining personality in the sa loon and dance halls.

Once at Clifton he was bested in a fistic encounter. He always attributed that feat to a condition usually described as "three sheets in the wind." At least, that is what he meant by saying that he was "three sheet weendy."

The night was dark when Frenchy took an unsteady course up a steep trail to his cabin. A huge bear, standing erect and holding its paws in a menacing attitude, blocked the way. "HEY HOMBRE!," Frenchy yelled as he swung his powerful fist at the intruder. The bear countered and slapped his assailant to the bottom of a ravine. Miners coming on night-shift happened along in time to pelt the bear with stones, holding it at bay until some one brought a rifle. "Burro Frenchy" al ways insisted it was the only time he was ever whipped in a fair standing fight.

The thirst for riches never left him. The Apaches accorded him toleration and favor. He was different from any white man they had even seen. So much so they thought he was not normal. Their primitive under standing of Creation's blighted creatures and inanimate objects had, from time imme morial, led them to hold sacred from moles tation those mentally afflicted humans, which they presumed to be Heaven-delivered symbols of something "touched by the gods." Of this superstition, Frenchy took every advantage when among the Apaches and exaggerated his own pecularities.

Yet there were different opinions. Some of the Apaches looked upon him as just an other white man to kill. However, Victorio and Geronimo, leading chieftains whose word was law, believed that he was "touched" and restrained disgruntled tribesmen. Frenchy was permitted to come and go through Apacheland unmolested. Notches, numbering the days during which he might travel to proposed destinations, were cut in a certain species of wood. Frenchy appear ed to bear a charmed life. He partook of Apache hospitality and learned many intimate things regarding their mode of life, traditions and superstitions.

One day a Mexican approached him and persuaded Frenchy to enter into a partner ship in a hog ranch. The pair journeyed to Silver City from Solomonsville, Arizona, and purchased a drove of hogs. The round trip and delivery of the porkers to the ranch was made without encountering Indians, al though Victorio was known to be riding far and wide.

A few days later, Victorio and his raiders descended upon the ranch. Alone, Frenchy might have been safe from personal harm. But in spite of Frenchy's entreaties not to fight, the Mexican shot an approaching In dian and then himself died fighting. Frenchy fled but was captured.

He no longer was entitled to consideration. He was beyond the pale of Apache tolerance. He had been associated with a Mexican mem ber of the Latin race, against whom the Apaches had been at war since the Span-iards arrived in North America. Pork was held by the tribe in abomination and swine had been brought into the Indian country by foreigners. Frenchy was one of the cul prits. Lastly, a tribesmen had been killed. An eye for an eye!

Victorio, still believing that the man was touched by the gods, was faced with a pro blem. He shrank from his obvious duty and won a compromise which forbade the death penalty. He gave Frenchy a chance. He was to be banished from Apacheland, with a one day start West. He was supplied with a one-day pass made by crossing two Span ish bayonets, and told that protection would cease at the expiration of twenty-four hours by the sun. Frenchy ran for his life.

At about the same hour of the following day, the Apaches caught up with him, stripped off his clothes and again started him on the run; but now he was naked and barefooted. Goaded into extremities of pain and endurance as they lashed him with leather thongs and thorny switches Frenchy played the part of an insane person. He stood on his head and kicked at the sky, muscled his inverted body in a turn propell ed by his hands, arose and turned hand springs, wriggled on the ground like a snake, ran around in circles uttering hideous shrieks.

Overawed by the performance and, convinced that he really was insane, the Apaches fled to the hills and left the batter ed Frenchman alone in his agony. In an al most superhuman struggle, he finally reach ed Globe. Whip-welts and deep scars pat terned his back for the rest of his life. Something had happened to his vocal chords. He could not control them. His singing voice was gone. And for the rest of his days he carried a heavy cane which he grasped with both hands to balance his stricken body while he dragged his broken feet.

Yet as before he returned to the search for min is. Over the mountains and deserts Freshy rode a burro in his everlasting search for riches.

Oldtimers still tell of their experience in the wilds when "Burro Frenchy" loomed in the vicinity. First intimation of his approach came from abruptly halting horses with stiffening bodies, quivering nostrils and ears up, ready to bolt. Far off screams rent the air. Visions of Indian torture. Men ready to lend assistance scouted with guns (Turn to Page 34)