The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan War

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  THE WHITE SCALPER.

  We must now stop our story for a little while, in order to give thereader certain details about the strange man whom we introduced in ourprevious chapter, details doubtless very incomplete, but stillindispensable to the proper comprehension of facts that have to follow.

  If, instead of telling a true story, we were inventing a romance, weshould certainly guard ourselves against introducing into our narrativepersons like the one we have to deal with now; unhappily, we areconstrained to follow the line ready traced before us, and depict ourcharacters as they are, as they existed, and as the majority stillexist.

  A few years before the period at which the first part of our storybegins, a rumour, at first dull, but which soon attained a certaindegree of consistency and a great notoriety in the vast deserts ofTexas, arose almost suddenly, icing with fear the Indios Bravos, and theadventurers of every description who continually wander about these vastsolitudes.

  It was stated that a man, apparently white, had been for some time onthe desert, pursuing the Redskins, against whom he seemed to havedeclared an obstinate war. Acts of horrible cruelty and extraordinaryboldness were narrated about this man, who was said to be always alone;wherever he met Indians, no matter their number, he attacked them; thosewho fell into his power were scalped, and their hearts torn out, and inorder that it might be known that they had fallen under his blows, hemade on their stomach a wide incision, in the shape of a cross. At timesthis implacable enemy of the red race glided into their villages, firedthem during the night, when all were asleep, and then he made afrightful 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 Indianswith his implacable hatred--half-breeds, smugglers, pirates, in a word,all the bold border ruffians accustomed to live at the expense ofsociety had a rude account to settle with him; but the latter he did notscalp, but merely contented himself with fastening them securely totrees, where he condemned them to die of hunger, and become the prey ofwild beasts.

  During the first years, the adventurers and Redskins, drawn together bythe feeling of a common danger, had several times banded to put an endto this ferocious enemy, bind him, and inflict the law of retaliation onhim; but this man seemed to be protected by a charm, which enabled himto escape all the snares laid for him, and circumvent all the ambuscadesformed on his road, It was impossible to catch him; his movements wereso rapid and unexpected, that he often appeared at considerabledistances from the spot where he was awaited, and where he had been seenshortly before. According to the Indians and adventurers, he wasinvulnerable; 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; hisenemies, convinced that all they might attempt against him would proveuseless, gave up a struggle which they regarded as waged against asuperior power. The strangest legends were current about him; every onefeared him as a maleficent spirit; the Indians named him_Kiein-Stomann_, or the White Scalper, and the Adventurers designatedhim among themselves by the epithet of Pitiless.

  These two names, as we see, were justly given to this man, with whommurder and carnage seemed the supreme enjoyment, such pleasure did hefind in feeling his victims quivering beneath his blood-red hand, andtearing the heart out of their bosom; hence his mere name, uttered in awhisper, filled the bravest with horror.

  But who was this man? Whence did he come? What fearful catastrophe hadcast him into the fearful mode of life he led?

  No one could answer these questions. This individual was a horrifyingenigma, which no person could solve.

  Was he one of those monstrous organizations, which, beneath the envelopeof man, contain a tiger's heart?

  Or, else, a soul ulcerated by a frightful misfortune, all whosefaculties 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 eithergood or evil, this individual had at times gleams, not of pity, butperhaps of fatigue, when blood mounted to his gorge, choked him, andrendered him a little less cruel, a little less implacable, almosthuman, in a word. But these moments were brief, these attacks, as hecalled them himself, very rare; nature regained the upper hand almost atonce, and he became only the more terrible, because he had been so neargrowing compassionate.

  This was all known about this individual at the moment when we broughthim on the stage in so singular a fashion. The assistance he had giventhe monk was so contrary to all his habits, that he must have beensuffering at the moment from one of his best attacks, to have consentednot only to give such eager attention to one of his fellows, but also towaste so much time in listening to his lamentations and entreaties.

  To finish the information we have to give about this person, we will addthat no one knew whether he had a permanent abode; he was not known tohave 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 appearanceof old age and strength, the same long and white beard, and the samewrinkled face.

  As we have said, the scalper rushed into the chaparral to discover whohad given the signal that startled him; his researches were minute, butthey produced no other result than that of enabling him to discover thathe was not mistaken, and that a spy hidden in the bushes had reallyseen all that took place in the clearing, and heard all that was said.

  Blue-fox, after summoning his comrades, cautiously retired, convincedthat if he fell into the hands of the Scalper, he would be lost in spiteof all his courage.

  The latter returned thoughtfully to the side of the monk, whose prayingstill went on, and had assumed such proportions that it threatened tobecome interminable.

  The Scalper looked for a moment at the Fray, an ironical smile playinground his pale lips the while, and then gave him a hearty blow with thebutt of his rifle between the shoulders.

  "Get up!" he said, roughly.

  The monk fell on his hands, and remained motionless. Believing that theother intended to kill him, he resigned himself to his fate, and awaitedthe death-blow which, in his opinion, he must speedily receive.

  "Come, get up, you devil of a monk!" the Scalper went on; "Have you notmumbled 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 yourorders; what do you desire of me?"

  And he quickly sprung up, for there was something in the other's eyewhich told him that disobedience would lead to unpleasant results.

  "That is well, scoundrel! You seem to me as fit to pull a trigger as tosay a prayer. Load your rifle, for the moment has arrived for you tofight 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 thatI should fight?"

  "Yes, if you wish to keep a whole skin; if you do not, why, you canremain 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 slightlyincreased 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 morerapidly, eh?"

  "Oh! do not think that," he said, with a gesture of denial.

  "Enough!" the Scalper roughly interrupted; "Think of yourself, for yourenemies are coming."

  With one bound he was in the saddle, made his horse curvet, and hidhimself behi
nd the enormous stem of the mahogany tree.

  Fray Antonio, aroused by the approach of danger, quickly seized hisrifle, and also got behind the tree.

  At the same moment a rather loud rustling was heard in the bushes, whichthen parted, and several men appeared.

  They were about fifteen in number, and Apache warriors; in the midst ofthem were Blue-fox, John Davis, and his companions.

  Blue-fox, though he had never found himself face to face with the WhiteScalper, had often heard him spoken of, both by Indians and hunters;hence, when he heard him pronounce his name, an indescribable agonycontracted his heart, as he thought of all the cruelty to which hisbrothers had been victims from this man; and the thought of seizing himoccurred to him. He hastened to give the signal agreed on with thehunters, and rushing through the chaparral with the velocitycharacteristic of Indians, went to the spot where his warriors werewaiting, and bade them follow him. On his return, he met the two hunterswho had heard the signal, and were hurrying to his help.

  In a few words Blue-fox explained to them what was occurring. To tellthe truth, we must confess that this confidence, far from exciting thewarriors and hunters, singularly lowered their ardour, by revealing tothem that they were about to expose themselves to a terrible danger, bycontending with a man who was the more dangerous because no weapon couldstrike him; and those who had hitherto dared to assail him, had everfallen victims to their temerity.

  Still, it was too late to recoil, and flight was impossible; thewarriors, therefore, determined to push on, though much against thegrain.

  As for the two hunters, if they did not completely share in the blindcredulity of their comrades, and their superstitious fears, this fightwas far from pleasing them. Still, restrained by the shame of abandoningmen to whom they fancied themselves superior in intelligence, and evenin courage, they resolved to follow them.

  "Excellency!" the monk exclaimed in a lamentable voice, when he saw theIndians 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 theirusual tactics, sheltered themselves behind trees, so that this confinedclearing, in which so many men were on the point of beginning anobstinate struggle, seemed absolutely deserted.

  There was a moment of silence and hesitation. The Scalper at lengthdecided 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 thenboldly walked a few paces forward, and stopped almost in the centre ofthe clearing.

  "Where are you, you who are speaking?" he asked in a loud and firmvoice; "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 anyrate."

  "A truce to jests, which may cost you dearly; tell me at once what yourproposals 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, doyou know that?"

  "I do not care for your numbers. If there were a hundred of you, I wouldattack you all the same."

  "By Heaven! For the rarity of the fact, I should be curious to see thecombat 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 wordto you."

  "Say it."

  "Will you surrender?"

  "What?"

  "I ask you if you will surrender."

  "Nonsense," the Scalper exclaimed with a grin; "you are mad. Isurrender! 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 hisshoulders; "I do not wish to kill you defencelessly."

  "All the worse for you, then," the hunter said; "I have warned youhonourably, 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 sobad a state as you fancy."

  John Davis contented himself with shrugging his shoulders, and returnedslowly to his shelter in the forest, whistling Yankee Doodle.

  The Scalper had not imitated him; although he was perfectly well awarethat a great number of enemies surrounded him and watched over hismovements, he remained firm and motionless in the centre of theclearing.

  "Hola!" he shouted in a mocking voice, "You valiant Apaches, who hideyourselves like rabbits in the shrubs, must I come and smoke you out ofyour holes in order to make you show yourselves? Come on, if you do notwish me to believe you old cowardly and frightened squaws."

  These insulting words raised to the highest pitch the exasperation ofthe Apache warriors, who replied by a prolonged yell of fury.

  "Will my brothers allow themselves any longer to be mocked by a singleman?" Blue-fox exclaimed; "Our cowardice causes his strength. Let usrush with the speed of the hurricane on this genius of evil; he cannotresist the shock of so many renowned warriors. Forward, brothers,forward! To us be the honour of having crushed the implacable foe of ourrace."

  And uttering his war-cry, which his comrades repeated, the valiant Chiefrushed upon the Scalper, resolutely brandishing his rifle over hishead; all the warriors followed him.

  The Scalper awaited them without stirring; but so soon as he saw themwithin reach, drawing in the reins, and pressing his knees, he made hisnoble stud leap into the thick of the Indians. Seizing his rifle by thebarrel, and employing it like a club, he began smiting to the right andleft with a vigour and rapidity that had something supernatural aboutthem.

  Then a frightful medley commenced; the Indians rushed on this man, who,being a skilful horseman, made his steed go through the most unexpectedcurvets, and by the rapidity of his movements prevented the enemyleaping on his bridle and stopping him.

  The two hunters at first remained quiet, convinced that it wasimpossible for a single man even to resist for a few moments suchnumerous and brave foes; but they soon perceived, to their greatamazement, that they were mistaken; several Indians were alreadystretched on the ground, their skulls split by the Scalper's terribleclub, all whose blows went home.

  The hunters then began changing their opinion as to the result of thefight, and wished to help their comrades, but their rifles were uselessto them in the continued changes of the scene of action, and theirbullets might as easily have struck friend as foe; hence they threw awaytheir rifles, drew their knives, and hurried to the assistance of theApaches, 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 hisenemies; his arm rose and fell with the regularity of a pendulum.

  "Ah, ah!" he exclaimed, on noticing
the hunters; "So you want yourshare. 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, washurled twenty feet, and fell to the ground; at the same instant hiscomrade's skull was broken, and he expired without a groan.

  This last incident gave the finishing stroke to the Indians, who, unableto 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 thesanguinary arena, where a dozen bodies lay stretched out, and urging hishorse on, he caught up a fugitive, lifted him by the hair, and threw himover 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, hethought it needless to await its issue; he, therefore, took advantage ofthe opportunity, and gliding gently from tree to tree, he effected askilful retreat and got clear off.