THE SCALP DANCE.
Far from us the thought of making humanitarian theories with reference
to a fight in the heart of the desert between two savage tribes, for it
has too long been a principle among civilized nations that the Indians
are ferocious brutes, possessed of nothing human but the face, and who
should be destroyed, like all other noxious animals, by all possible
means, even by those which are too repugnant to humanity for us to
attempt for a single moment to defend.
Still, much might be said in favour of these unhappy peoples, who have
been oppressed ever since humanity decreed that a man of genius should
find once more their country which had so long been lost. It would be
easy for us to prove, if we thought proper, that these Peruvians and
Mexicans, treated so haughtily and barbarously by the wretched
adventurers who plundered them, enjoyed, at the period of the conquest,
a civilization far more advanced than that of which their oppressors
boasted, who had only one advantage over them in the knowledge of
firearms, and who marched cased in steel from head to foot against men
clothed in cotton and armed with inoffensive arrows. Placed beyond the
pale of society by the unintelligent fanaticism and the inextinguishable
thirst for gold which devoured the conquerors, the wretched Indians
succumbed not only to the repeated assaults of their implacable
conquerors, but were also destined to remain constantly beneath the
oppression of a calumny which made them a stupid and ferocious race.
The conquest of the New World was one of the most odious monstrosities
of the middle ages, fertile though they were in atrocities. Millions of
men, whose blood was poured out like water, were coldly killed; empires
crumbled away for ever, entire populations disappeared from the globe,
and left no trace of their passage but their whitened bones. America,
which had been so populous, was almost suddenly converted into an
immense desert, and the proscribed relics of this unfortunate race,
driven back into barbarism, buried themselves in the most remote
countries, where they resumed the nomadic life of the old days,
continually carrying on war against the whites, and striving to requite
them in detail all the evils they had received at their hands for
centuries.
It is only for a few years past that public opinion has been stirred up
as to the fate of the Indians; and various means have been
attempted--not to civilize them, though that wish has been put forward,
but to put a stop to reprisals; consequently they have been placed in
horrible deserts; which they have been forbidden to leave. A sanitary
cordon has been formed round them, and as this method was not found
sufficiently expeditious to get rid of them, they have been gorged with
spirits. We will declare here the happy results obtained from these
Anglo-American measures: ere a century has elapsed, not a single native
will be left on the territory of the Union. The philanthropy of these
worthy northern republicans is a very fine thing, but Heaven save us
from it!
In every battle there are two terrible moments for the commander who has
undertaken the great responsibility of victory: the one, when he gives
the signal of attack and hurls his columns at the enemy; the other, when
organizing the resistance, he calmly awaits the hour when the decisive
blow must be dealt in accordance with his previous combinations. Loyal
Heart was as calm and quiet as if witnessing an ordinary charge; with
flashing eye and haughty lip he recommended his warriors to save their
powder and arrows, to keep together, and sustain the charge of the
Apaches, without yielding an inch of ground. The Comanches uttered their
war yell twice, and then a deadly silence brooded over the clearing.
"Good!" the hunter said, "you are great braves; I am proud of commanding
such intrepid warriors. Your squaws will greet you with dances and
shouts of joy on your return to the village, and proudly count the
scalps you bring back at your girdle."
After this brief address the hunter returned to the centre of the
circle, and the Whites waited with their finger on the trigger, the
Redskins with levelled bows. In the meanwhile, the Apaches had quitted
their ambuscade, had formed their ranks, and were marching in excellent
order on the Comanches. They had also dismounted, for a hand-to-hand
fight was about to begin between these irreconcilable enemies.
The night had entirely slipped away; by the first beams of day, which
tinged the tops of the trees, the black and moving circle could be seen
drawing closer and closer round the weak group formed by the Comanches
and the adventurers. It was a singular thing in prairie fashions that
the Apaches advanced slowly without firing, as if wishing to destroy
their enemies at one blow. Tranquil and Loyal Heart shook hands while
exchanging a calm smile.
"We have five minutes left," said the hunter; "we shall settle a goodly
number before falling ourselves," the Canadian answered.
Loyal Heart stretched out his hand toward the north-west.
"All is not over yet," he said.
"Do you hope to get us out of this scrape?"
"I intend," the young man answered, still calm and smiling, "to destroy
this collection of brigands to the last man."
"May Heaven grant it!" the Canadian said, with a doubtful shake of the
head.
The Apaches were now but a few yards off, and all the rifles were
levelled as if by common agreement.
"Listen!" Loyal Heart muttered in Tranquil's ear.
At the same moment distant yells were heard, and the enemy stopped with
alarmed hesitation.
"What is it?" Tranquil asked.
"Our men," the young man answered laconically.
A sound of horses and firearms was heard in the enemy's rear.
"The Comanches! the Comanches!" the Apaches shouted.
The line that surrounded the little band was suddenly rent asunder, and
two hundred Comanche horsemen were seen cutting down and crushing every
foeman within reach. On perceiving their brothers the horsemen uttered
a shout of joy, to which the others enthusiastically responded, for they
had fancied themselves lost.
Loyal Heart had calculated justly, he had not been a second wrong; the
warriors ambuscaded by Black-deer to effect a diversion and complete the
victory arrived at the decisive moment. This was the secret of the young
Chief's calmness, although in his heart he was devoured by anxiety, for
so many things might delay the arrival of the detachment. The Apaches,
thus taken by surprise, attempted for a few minutes a desperate
resistance; but being surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers, they soon
began flying in all directions. But Black-deer's measures had been taken
with great prudence, and a thorough knowledge of the military tactics of
the prairies: the Apaches were literally caught between two fires.
Nearly two-thirds of the Apache warriors, placed under the command of
Blue-fox to attempt the daring stroke he had conceived, fell, and the
rest had great difficulty in escaping. The victory was decisive, and for
a long long time the Apaches would not dare to measure themselves again
with their redoubtable enemies. Eight hundred horses and nearly five
hundred scalps were the trophies of the battle, without counting some
thirty wounded. The Comanches had only lost a dozen warriors, and their
enemies had been unable to scalp them, which was regarded as a great
glory. The horses were collected, the dead and wounded placed on
litters, and when all the scalps had been lifted from the Apaches who
had succumbed during the fight, their bodies were left to the wild
beasts, and the Comanche warriors, intoxicated with joy and pride,
remounted their horses and returned to the village.
The return of the Expeditionary corps was a perfect triumphant march.
Black-deer, to do honour to Loyal Heart and his comrades, whose help had
been so useful during the battle, insisted on their marching at the head
of the column, and on Loyal Heart keeping by his side, as having shared
the command with him. The sun rose at the moment when the Comanches
emerged from the forest, the day promised to be magnificent, and the
birds perched on all the branches loudly saluted the advent of day. A
large crowd, composed of women and children, could be seen running from
the village and hurrying to meet the warriors.
A large band of horsemen soon appeared, armed and painted for war, at
their head marching the greatest braves and most respected Sachems of
the tribe. This band, formed in good order, came up to the sound of
conches, drums, chichikouès, and war whistles, mingled with shouts of
joy from the crowd. On coming within a certain distance of each other,
the two bands halted, while the crowd fell back to the right and left.
Then, at a signal given by Black-deer and the Chief commanding the
second detachment, a fearful yell burst forth like a clap of thunder,
the horsemen dug in their spurs, and the two parties rushed upon one
another and began a series of evolutions, of which the Arab fantasias
can alone convey an idea.
When this performance had lasted some time, and a considerable quantity
of gunpowder had been expended, the two Chiefs gave a signal, and the
bands, up to the present commingled, separated, as if by enchantment,
and formed up about a pistol shot from each other. There was then a
perfect rest, but in a few minutes, at a signal from Blackbird, who
commanded the band that had come out of the village, the leaders of the
two detachments advanced towards each other. The salutations and
congratulations then began; for, as we have already made the
observation, the Indians are excessively strict in matters of etiquette.
Black-deer was obliged to narrate in the fullest detail, to the
assembled Chiefs, how the action had been fought, the number of the
enemy killed, how many had been scalped--in short, all that had
occurred. Black-deer performed this duty with the utmost nobility and
modesty, giving to Loyal Heart, who in vain protested, all the merit of
the victory, and only allowing himself credit for having punctually
carried out the orders the Pale warrior had given him. This modesty in a
warrior so renowned as Black-deer greatly pleased the Comanche Chiefs,
and obtained him the most sincere praise.
When all these preliminary ceremonies had been performed, the wives of
the Chiefs advanced, each leading by the bridle a magnificent steed,
destined to take the place of their husband's chargers wearied in
action. Black-deer's young and charming squaw led two. After bowing with
a gentle smile to her husband, and handing him the bridle of one of the
horses, she turned gracefully to Loyal Heart, and offered him the bridle
of the second horse:
"My brother Loyal Heart is a great brave," she said, in a voice as
melodious as a bird's song; "he will permit his sister to offer him this
courser, which is intended to take the place of the one he has tired in
fighting to save his brothers the Antelope Comanches."
All the Indians applauded this gift, so gracefully offered; Black-deer,
in spite of his assumed stoicism, could not refrain from evidencing the
pleasure which his young wife's charming attention caused her. Loyal
Heart smiled sweetly, dismounted, and walked up to her.
"My sister is fair and kind," he said, as he kissed her on the forehead;
"I accept the present she makes me; my brother Black-deer is happy in
possessing so charming a squaw to clean his arms and take care of his
horses."
The young wife withdrew, all confused and delighted, among her
companions; the Chiefs then mounted the fresh horses brought them. Each
returned to the head of his detachment, and the two bands advanced
slowly towards the village, escorted by the crowd which incessantly
filled the air with joyous shouts that mingled with the musical
instruments, whose savage harmony deafened all ears.
The Apache prisoners, on foot and disarmed, marched at the head of the
column, guarded by fifty picked warriors. These untameable Indians,
although perfectly aware of the fate that awaited them and the refined
tortures to which they were destined, walked with head erect and haughty
demeanour, as if, instead of being interested actors in the scene that
was preparing, they were only indifferent spectators.
However, this stoicism peculiar to the Red race surprised nobody. The
Comanche warriors disdained to insult the misfortunes of the intrepid
warriors, whose courage fortune had betrayed; the women alone, more
cruel than the men, especially those whose husbands were killed in the
battle, and whose bodies were now brought along in litters, rushed like
furies on the unhappy prisoners, whom they overwhelmed with insults,
casting stones and filth, and even at times trying to dig their sharp
nails into their flesh. This was carried to such a point that the guards
of the prisoners were compelled to interfere to prevent them being torn
asunder alive, and get them away, at least for a while, from the fury of
these Megeras, who grew more and more excited, and in whom wrath had
gradually attained the proportions of indescribable fury.
As for the prisoners, perfectly calm and impassive, they endured the
blows and insults without complaint; nothing moved them, and they
continued their march as peaceably as if they had been complete
strangers to what was going on. The procession, compelled to clear its
way through a crowd which was momentarily augmented, only advanced
slowly.
The day was far spent when it reached the palisade that formed the
village defences. At about ten paces from the palisade the two bands
stopped; two men were standing motionless at the entrance of the
village--they were the master of the great medicine and the hachesto: as
if by enchantment, at the sight of these men a profound silence fell on
the crowd so noisy a moment previously. The hachesto held in his hand
the totem of the tribe, and when the warriors halted the sorcerer took a
step forward.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, in a loud voice.
"We are," Black-deer answered, "the great braves of the powerful nation
of the Antelope Comanches; we ask leave to enter the village with our
prisoners and the horses we have captured, in order to perform the scalp
dance round the stake of torture."
"Good," the sorcerer answered, "I recognise you; you are, indeed, the
great braves of my nation, your hands are red with the blood of our
enemies; but," he added, taking a gloomy glance around, "all our
warriors are not present; what has become of those who are missing?"
There was a moment of mournful silence at this question.
"Answer," the sorcerer continued imperiously; "have you abandoned your
brothers?"
"No," Black-deer said, "they are dead, it is true, but we have brought
back their bodies with us, and their scalps are untouched."
"Good," said the sorcerer; "how many warriors have fallen?"
"Only ten."
"How did they die?"
"Like brave men, with their face turned to their foe."
"Good, the Wacondah has received them into the happy hunting grounds;
have their squaws bewailed them?"
"They are doing so."
The Seer frowned.
"Brave men only weep with tears of blood," he said.
Black-deer fell back a step to make room for the widows, who stood
motionless and gloomy behind him; they then advanced.
"We are ready," they said, "if our father will permit us, we will bewail
our husbands as they deserve."
"Do so," he answered; "the Master of Life sees it, and he will smile on
your grief."
Then, a strange scene occurred, which only Indian stoicism could endure
without shuddering with horror; these women, arming themselves with
knives, cut off several joints of their fingers without uttering a
complaint; then, not contented with this sacrifice, they began scarring
their faces, arms, and bosoms, so that the blood soon ran down their
whole bodies, and they became horrible to look upon. The seer excited
and encouraged them by his remarks to give their husbands this proof of
their regret, and their exaltation soon attained such a pitch of
delirium, that they would eventually have killed themselves, had not the
sorcerer checked them. Their companions then approached, took away their
weapons, and dragged them off. When they had finally left the spot, the
sorcerer addressed the warriors standing motionless and attentive before
him--
"The blood shed by the Apache warriors has been ransomed by the Comanche
squaws," he said; "the ground is saturated with it; grief can now give
way to joy, and my brothers enter their village with heads erect, for
the Master of Life is satisfied."
Then taking from the hands of the hachesto the totem which the latter
had been waving round his head, he stationed himself on the right hand
of Black-deer, and entered the village with the warriors, amid the
deafening shouts of the crowd, and to the sound of the instruments which
had recommenced their infernal charivari.
The procession marched straight to the great square where the scalp
dance was to take place. Loyal Heart and his comrades desired most
eagerly to escape this ceremony; but it would have been a great insult
to the Indians to do so, and they were compelled to follow the warriors,
whether they liked it or not. On passing before the hunter's rancho,
they noticed that all the windows were hermetically closed. Doña
Jesuita, not at all desirous to witness the cruel sight, had shut
herself up; but No Eusebio, whose nerves were probably harder, was
standing in the doorway, carelessly smoking his cigarette, and watching
the procession defile, which, by Loyal Heart's orders, he had preceded
by a few moments, in order to reassure Doña Jesuita as to the result of
the engagement.
When the whole tribe had assembled on the square, the scalp dance
commenced. In our previous works we have had occasion to describe this
ceremony, so we will say nothing of it here, except that, contrary to
the other dances, it is performed by the squaws, and that on this
occasion it was Black-deer's newly-married wife who led the dance, in
her quality of squaw of the Chief who had commanded the expedition.
The Apache prisoners had been fastened to stakes erected expressly; and
for some hours they were exposed to the ridicule, jests, and insults of
their enemies without displaying the slightest emotion. When the dance
at length ended, the time for torture arrived.
We will not dwell on the frightful sufferings inflicted on the wretched
men whom their evil destiny had delivered into the hands of their
implacable foes, for we have no desire to describe horrible scenes; we
have even felt a repugnance to allude to them, but are bound to be
faithful historians. As we have undertaken the task of making known the
manners of races hitherto almost unknown, and which are destined so
shortly to disappear, we will not fail in our duty, and in order that
our readers may thoroughly understand what Indian torture is, we will
describe the punishment inflicted on one of the prisoners, a renowned
Apache Chief.
This Chief was a young man of five-and-twenty at the most, of lofty and
well-proportioned stature; his features were noble, and his glance
stern, and though severely wounded in the action, it was only when
literally overwhelmed by numbers, that he had fallen upon the pile of
his warriors who had died bravely at his side.
The Comanches, who are judges of courage, had admired his heroic
conduct, and treated him with a certain degree of respect by the express
orders of Black-deer, who entertained a hope of making him renounce his
nation, and consent to be adopted by the Comanches, for whom so brave a
warrior would have been an excellent acquisition. My readers must not
feel surprised at this idea of the Comanche Sachem; these adoptions are
frequent among the Redskins, and it often happens that a warrior who has
fallen into the power of his enemies, ransoms his life, and escapes
torture by marrying the widow of the warrior he has killed, under the
promise of bringing up the children of the defunct, and regarding them
as his own.
The Apache Chief was called Running-elk. Instead of fastening him to the
stake like the warriors of less value made prisoners at the same time as
himself, he had been left at liberty. He was leaning his shoulder
against the stake with folded arms, and watched calmly and disdainfully
all the incidents of the scalp dance. When it was ended, Black-deer, who
had previously consulted with the other Chiefs of the tribe, and
communicated his idea, which they warmly approved of, walked up to him.
The prisoner let him come up without seeming to notice him.
"My brother, Running-elk, is a renowned Chief and great brave," he said
to him in a gentle voice; "what is he thinking of at this moment?"
"I am thinking," the Apache answered, "that I shall soon be on the happy
hunting grounds, where I shall hunt by the side of the Master of Life."
"My brother is still very young, his life only counts spring seasons,
does he not regret losing it?"
"Why should I regret it? A little sooner, or a little later, but a man
must die after all."
"Certainly; but dying thus at the stake of torture, when you have a long
future of joy and happiness before you, is hard."
The Chief shook his head mournfully, and interrupted the speaker.
"My brother need say no more," he replied; "I see his thoughts, he is
indulging in a hope which will not be realised; Running-elk will not be
a renegade to his nation to become a Comanche; I could not live among
you, for the blood of your warriors I have shed would constantly cry out
against me. Could I marry all the squaws whom my tomahawk has rendered
widows, or give you back the numerous scalps I have raised? No, I could
not. When an Apache and Comanche meet on the war trail, one must kill
the other. Cease then making me proposals which are an insult to my
character and courage; fasten me to the stake of torture, and do not
kill me at once, but gradually, by tortures, in the Indian way. Invent
the most atrocious torture, and I defy you to hear from me a complaint,
or even a sigh." And growing more excited as he spoke, he said, "You are
children who do not know how to make a man of courage suffer, you need
the death of a brave to learn how to die. Try it on me, I despise you;
you are cowardly dogs, you can only snarl, and the mere sight of my
eagle feather has ever sufficed to put you to flight."
On hearing these haughty words, the Comanches uttered a yell of anger,
and prepared to rush on the prisoner, but Black-deer checked them.
"Running-elk," he said, "is not a real brave, he talks too much; he is a
mocking-bird, who chatters because he is afraid."
The Sachem shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
"This is the last word you shall hear from me," he said; "you are dogs!"
And biting his tongue off, he spat it into Black-deer's face. The latter
gave a leap of fury, and his rage no longer knew bounds. Running-elk was
immediately fastened to the stake; the women then tore out the nails
from his fingers and toes, and drove into the wounds little spiles of
wood dipped in inflammable matter, which they fired. The Indian remained
calm; no contraction of the muscles disturbed the harmony of his
features. The punishment endured three hours; but though his body was
one huge wound, the Sachem remained perfectly stoical. Blackbird
approached in his turn.
"Wait," he said.
Room was made for him; rushing on the Apache, he plucked out his eyes,
which he threw away with disgust, and filled the two burning cavities
with live coals. This last agony was horrible; a nervous tremor ran for
a second over the wretch's body, but that was all. The Comanche,
exasperated by this stoicism, which he could not refrain from admiring,
seized him by his long hair, and scalped him; then he lashed his face
with the blood-dripping scalp. The prisoner was horrible to look on, but
still remained erect and unmoved.
Loyal Heart could no longer endure this hideous spectacle; he dashed
through the people in front of him, and, putting a pistol to the
prisoner's forehead, blew out his brains. The Comanches, furious at
seeing their vengeance slip from them, gave a start, as if about to
rush on the White man, who had dared to rob them of their prey: but the
latter drew himself up haughtily, folded his arms on his chest, and
looked them full in the face.
"Well," he said, in a firm voice.
This one word was enough: the wild beasts were muzzled; they fell back
cursing, but did not attempt to make him account for what he had done.
The hunter then made a sign to the adventurers to follow him, and they
left the square, where for some hours longer the Indians wreaked their
fury on the hapless prisoners.