THE WHITE SCALPER.
We must now stop our story for a little while, in order to give the
reader certain details about the strange man whom we introduced in our
previous chapter, details doubtless very incomplete, but still
indispensable to the proper comprehension of facts that have to follow.
If, instead of telling a true story, we were inventing a romance, we
should certainly guard ourselves against introducing into our narrative
persons like the one we have to deal with now; unhappily, we are
constrained to follow the line ready traced before us, and depict our
characters as they are, as they existed, and as the majority still
exist.
A few years before the period at which the first part of our story
begins, a rumour, at first dull, but which soon attained a certain
degree of consistency and a great notoriety in the vast deserts of
Texas, arose almost suddenly, icing with fear the Indios Bravos, and the
adventurers of every description who continually wander about these vast
solitudes.
It was stated that a man, apparently white, had been for some time on
the desert, pursuing the Redskins, against whom he seemed to have
declared an obstinate war. Acts of horrible cruelty and extraordinary
boldness were narrated about this man, who was said to be always alone;
wherever he met Indians, no matter their number, he attacked them; those
who fell into his power were scalped, and their hearts torn out, and in
order that it might be known that they had fallen under his blows, he
made on their stomach a wide incision, in the shape of a cross. At times
this implacable enemy of the red race glided into their villages, fired
them during the night, when all were asleep, and then he made a
frightful butchery, killing all who came in his way; women, children,
and old men, he made no exception.
This gloomy redresser of wrongs, however, did not merely pursue Indians
with his implacable hatred--half-breeds, smugglers, pirates, in a word,
all the bold border ruffians accustomed to live at the expense of
society had a rude account to settle with him; but the latter he did not
scalp, but merely contented himself with fastening them securely to
trees, where he condemned them to die of hunger, and become the prey of
wild beasts.
During the first years, the adventurers and Redskins, drawn together by
the feeling of a common danger, had several times banded to put an end
to this ferocious enemy, bind him, and inflict the law of retaliation on
him; but this man seemed to be protected by a charm, which enabled him
to escape all the snares laid for him, and circumvent all the ambuscades
formed on his road, It was impossible to catch him; his movements were
so rapid and unexpected, that he often appeared at considerable
distances from the spot where he was awaited, and where he had been seen
shortly before. According to the Indians and adventurers, he was
invulnerable; bullets and arrows rebounded from his chest; and soon,
through the continual good fortune that accompanied all his enterprises,
this man became a subject of universal terror on the prairie; his
enemies, convinced that all they might attempt against him would prove
useless, gave up a struggle which they regarded as waged against a
superior power. The strangest legends were current about him; every one
feared him as a maleficent spirit; the Indians named him
_Kiein-Stomann_, or the White Scalper, and the Adventurers designated
him among themselves by the epithet of Pitiless.
These two names, as we see, were justly given to this man, with whom
murder and carnage seemed the supreme enjoyment, such pleasure did he
find in feeling his victims quivering beneath his blood-red hand, and
tearing the heart out of their bosom; hence his mere name, uttered in a
whisper, filled the bravest with horror.
But who was this man? Whence did he come? What fearful catastrophe had
cast him into the fearful mode of life he led?
No one could answer these questions. This individual was a horrifying
enigma, which no person could solve.
Was he one of those monstrous organizations, which, beneath the envelope
of man, contain a tiger's heart?
Or, else, a soul ulcerated by a frightful misfortune, all whose
faculties are directed to one object, vengeance?
Both these hypotheses were equally possible; perhaps both were true.
Still, as every medal has its reverse, and man is not perfect in either
good or evil, this individual had at times gleams, not of pity, but
perhaps of fatigue, when blood mounted to his gorge, choked him, and
rendered him a little less cruel, a little less implacable, almost
human, in a word. But these moments were brief, these attacks, as he
called them himself, very rare; nature regained the upper hand almost at
once, and he became only the more terrible, because he had been so near
growing compassionate.
This was all known about this individual at the moment when we brought
him on the stage in so singular a fashion. The assistance he had given
the monk was so contrary to all his habits, that he must have been
suffering at the moment from one of his best attacks, to have consented
not only to give such eager attention to one of his fellows, but also to
waste so much time in listening to his lamentations and entreaties.
To finish the information we have to give about this person, we will add
that no one knew whether he had a permanent abode; he was not known to
have any woman to love, or any follower; he had ever been seen alone;
and during the ten years he had roamed the desert in every direction,
his countenance had undergone no change; he had ever the same appearance
of old age and strength, the same long and white beard, and the same
wrinkled face.
As we have said, the scalper rushed into the chaparral to discover who
had given the signal that startled him; his researches were minute, but
they produced no other result than that of enabling him to discover that
he was not mistaken, and that a spy hidden in the bushes had really
seen all that took place in the clearing, and heard all that was said.
Blue-fox, after summoning his comrades, cautiously retired, convinced
that if he fell into the hands of the Scalper, he would be lost in spite
of all his courage.
The latter returned thoughtfully to the side of the monk, whose praying
still went on, and had assumed such proportions that it threatened to
become interminable.
The Scalper looked for a moment at the Fray, an ironical smile playing
round his pale lips the while, and then gave him a hearty blow with the
butt of his rifle between the shoulders.
"Get up!" he said, roughly.
The monk fell on his hands, and remained motionless. Believing that the
other intended to kill him, he resigned himself to his fate, and awaited
the death-blow which, in his opinion, he must speedily receive.
"Come, get up, you devil of a monk!" the Scalper went on; "Have you not
mumbled paternosters enough?"
Fray Ambrosio gently raised his head; a gleam of hope returned to him.
"Forgive me, Excellency," he replied; "I have finished; I am now at your
orders; what do you desire of me?"
And he quickly sprung up, for there was something in the other's eye
which told him that disobedience would lead to unpleasant results.
"That is well, scoundrel! You seem to me as fit to pull a trigger as to
say a prayer. Load your rifle, for the moment has arrived for you to
fight like a man, unless you wish to be killed like a dog."
The monk took a frightened glance around.
"Excellency," he stammered, with great hesitation, "is it necessary that
I should fight?"
"Yes, if you wish to keep a whole skin; if you do not, why, you can
remain quiet."
"But perhaps there is another mode?"
"What is it?"
"Flight, for instance," he said, insinuatingly.
"Try it," the other replied, with a grin.
The monk, encouraged by this semi-concession, continued, with slightly
increased boldness--
"You have a very fine horse."
"Is it not?"
"Magnificent," Fray Antonio went on, enthusiastically.
"Yes, and you would not be vexed if I let you mount it, to fly more
rapidly, eh?"
"Oh! do not think that," he said, with a gesture of denial.
"Enough!" the Scalper roughly interrupted; "Think of yourself, for your
enemies are coming."
With one bound he was in the saddle, made his horse curvet, and hid
himself behind the enormous stem of the mahogany tree.
Fray Antonio, aroused by the approach of danger, quickly seized his
rifle, and also got behind the tree.
At the same moment a rather loud rustling was heard in the bushes, which
then parted, and several men appeared.
They were about fifteen in number, and Apache warriors; in the midst of
them were Blue-fox, John Davis, and his companions.
Blue-fox, though he had never found himself face to face with the White
Scalper, had often heard him spoken of, both by Indians and hunters;
hence, when he heard him pronounce his name, an indescribable agony
contracted his heart, as he thought of all the cruelty to which his
brothers had been victims from this man; and the thought of seizing him
occurred to him. He hastened to give the signal agreed on with the
hunters, and rushing through the chaparral with the velocity
characteristic of Indians, went to the spot where his warriors were
waiting, and bade them follow him. On his return, he met the two hunters
who had heard the signal, and were hurrying to his help.
In a few words Blue-fox explained to them what was occurring. To tell
the truth, we must confess that this confidence, far from exciting the
warriors and hunters, singularly lowered their ardour, by revealing to
them that they were about to expose themselves to a terrible danger, by
contending with a man who was the more dangerous because no weapon could
strike him; and those who had hitherto dared to assail him, had ever
fallen victims to their temerity.
Still, it was too late to recoil, and flight was impossible; the
warriors, therefore, determined to push on, though much against the
grain.
As for the two hunters, if they did not completely share in the blind
credulity of their comrades, and their superstitious fears, this fight
was far from pleasing them. Still, restrained by the shame of abandoning
men to whom they fancied themselves superior in intelligence, and even
in courage, they resolved to follow them.
"Excellency!" the monk exclaimed in a lamentable voice, when he saw the
Indians appear, "Do not abandon me."
"No, if you do not abandon yourself, scoundrel!" the Scalper answered.
On reaching the skirt of the clearing, the Apaches, following their
usual tactics, sheltered themselves behind trees, so that this confined
clearing, in which so many men were on the point of beginning an
obstinate struggle, seemed absolutely deserted.
There was a moment of silence and hesitation. The Scalper at length
decided on being the first to speak.
"Halloh!" he cried, "What do you want here?"
Blue-fox was going to answer, but John Davis prevented him.
"Leave him to me," he said.
Quitting the trunk of the tree behind which he was sheltered, he then
boldly walked a few paces forward, and stopped almost in the centre of
the clearing.
"Where are you, you who are speaking?" he asked in a loud and firm
voice; "Are you afraid of letting yourself be seen?"
"I fear nothing," the squatter replied.
"Show yourself, then, that I may know you again," John said impudently.
Thus challenged, the Scalper came up within two paces of the hunter.
"Here I am," he said, "What do you want of me?"
Davis let the horse come up without making any movement to avoid it.
"Ah," he said, "I am not sorry to have had a look at you."
"Is that all you have to say to me?" the other asked gruffly.
"Hang it, you are in a tremendous hurry! Give me time to breathe, at any
rate."
"A truce to jests, which may cost you dearly; tell me at once what your
proposals are--I have no time to lose in idle talk."
"How the deuce do you know that I have proposals to make to you?"
"Would you have come here without?"
"And I presume that you are acquainted with these proposals?"
"It is possible."
"In that case, what answer do you give me?"
"None."
"What, none!"
"I prefer attacking you."
"Oh, oh, you have a tough job before you; there are eighteen of us, do
you know that?"
"I do not care for your numbers. If there were a hundred of you, I would
attack you all the same."
"By Heaven! For the rarity of the fact, I should be curious to see the
combat of one man against twenty."
"You will do so ere long."
And, while saying this, the Scalper pulled his horse back several paces.
"One moment, hang it," the hunter exclaimed sharply; "let me say a word
to you."
"Say it."
"Will you surrender?"
"What?"
"I ask you if you will surrender."
"Nonsense," the Scalper exclaimed with a grin; "you are mad. I
surrender! It is you who will have to ask mercy ere long."
"I would not believe it, even if you killed me."
"Come, return to your shelter," the Scalper said with a shrug of his
shoulders; "I do not wish to kill you defencelessly."
"All the worse for you, then," the hunter said; "I have warned you
honourably, now I wash my hands of it; get out of it as you can."
"Thanks," the Scalper answered energetically; "but I am not yet in so
bad a state as you fancy."
John Davis contented himself with shrugging his shoulders, and returned
slowly to his shelter in the forest, whistling Yankee Doodle.
The Scalper had not imitated him; although he was perfectly well aware
that a great number of enemies surrounded him and watched over his
movements, he remained firm and motionless in the centre of the
clearing.
"Hola!" he shouted in a mocking voice, "You valiant Apaches, who hide
yourselves like rabbits in the shrubs, must I come and smoke you out of
your holes in order to make you show yourselves? Come on, if you do not
wish me to believe you old cowardly and frightened squaws."
These insulting words raised to the highest pitch the exasperation of
the Apache warriors, who replied by a prolonged yell of fury.
"Will my brothers allow themselves any longer to be mocked by a single
man?" Blue-fox exclaimed; "Our cowardice causes his strength. Let us
rush with the speed of the hurricane on this genius of evil; he cannot
resist the shock of so many renowned warriors. Forward, brothers,
forward! To us be the honour of having crushed the implacable foe of our
race."
And uttering his war-cry, which his comrades repeated, the valiant Chief
rushed upon the Scalper, resolutely brandishing his rifle over his
head; all the warriors followed him.
The Scalper awaited them without stirring; but so soon as he saw them
within reach, drawing in the reins, and pressing his knees, he made his
noble stud leap into the thick of the Indians. Seizing his rifle by the
barrel, and employing it like a club, he began smiting to the right and
left with a vigour and rapidity that had something supernatural about
them.
Then a frightful medley commenced; the Indians rushed on this man, who,
being a skilful horseman, made his steed go through the most unexpected
curvets, and by the rapidity of his movements prevented the enemy
leaping on his bridle and stopping him.
The two hunters at first remained quiet, convinced that it was
impossible for a single man even to resist for a few moments such
numerous and brave foes; but they soon perceived, to their great
amazement, that they were mistaken; several Indians were already
stretched on the ground, their skulls split by the Scalper's terrible
club, all whose blows went home.
The hunters then began changing their opinion as to the result of the
fight, and wished to help their comrades, but their rifles were useless
to them in the continued changes of the scene of action, and their
bullets might as easily have struck friend as foe; hence they threw away
their rifles, drew their knives, and hurried to the assistance of the
Apaches, who were already beginning to give way.
Blue-fox, dangerously wounded, was lying in a state of insensibility.
The warriors, still on their legs, were beginning to think of a retreat,
and casting anxious glances behind them.
The Scalper still fought with the same fury, mocking and insulting his
enemies; his arm rose and fell with the regularity of a pendulum.
"Ah, ah!" he exclaimed, on noticing the hunters; "So you want your
share. Come on, come on."
The latter did not allow it to be repeated, but rushed wildly upon him.
But they fared badly; John Davis, struck by the horse's chest, was
hurled twenty feet, and fell to the ground; at the same instant his
comrade's skull was broken, and he expired without a groan.
This last incident gave the finishing stroke to the Indians, who, unable
to overcome the terror with which this extraordinary man inspired them,
began flying in all directions with yells of terror.
The Scalper gave a glance of triumph and satisfied hatred at the
sanguinary arena, where a dozen bodies lay stretched out, and urging his
horse on, he caught up a fugitive, lifted him by the hair, and threw him
over his saddle-bow, and disappeared in the forest with a horrible grin.
Once again the Scalper had opened a bloody passage for himself.
As for Fray Antonio, so soon as he saw that the fight had begun, he
thought it needless to await its issue; he, therefore, took advantage of
the opportunity, and gliding gently from tree to tree, he effected a
skilful retreat and got clear off.