The White Scalper: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The White Scalper: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
The European traveller, accustomed to the paltry landscapes which man
has carved out corresponding with his own stature and the conventional
nature he has, as it were, contrived to create, can in no way figure to
himself the grand and sublime aspect presented by the great American
forests, where all seems to sleep, and the ever open eye of God alone
broods over the world. The unknown rumours, without any apparent cause,
which incessantly rise from earth to sky like the powerful breathing of
sleeping nature, and mingle with the monotonous murmur of the streams,
as they rustle over the pebbles of their bed; and at intervals, the
mysterious breeze which passes over the tufted tops of the trees, slowly
bending them with a gentle rustling of leaves and branches--all this
leads the mind to reverie, and fills it with a religious respect for the
sublime works of the Creator.
We fancy we have given a sufficiently detailed account of the village of
the Antelope Comanches, to be able to dispense with further reference to
it; we will merely add that it was built in an amphitheatrical shape,
and descended with a gentle incline to the river. This position
prevented the enemy surrounding the village, whose approaches were
guarded from surprise by the trees having been felled for some distance.
Loyal Heart and his comrades advanced slowly, with their rifles on their
thigh, attentively watching the neighbourhood, and ready, at the
slightest suspicious movement in the tall grass, to execute a vigorous
charge. All, however, remained quiet round them; at times they heard a
coyote baying at the moon, or the noise of an owl concealed by the
foliage; but that was all, and a leaden silence fell again on the
savannah. At times they saw in the bluish rays of the moon indistinct
forms appear on the banks of the river; but these wandering shadows were
evidently wild beasts which had left their lurking places to come down
and drink.
The march continued thus without encumbrance or alarm of any
description, until the adventurers had reached the covert, when a dense
gloom suddenly enveloped them, and did not allow them to distinguish
objects ten yards ahead. Loyal Heart did not consider it prudent to
advance further in a neighbourhood he did not know, and where he saw the
risk at each step of falling into an ambuscade; consequently the little
band halted. The horses were made to lie down on their side, their legs
were fastened, and their nostrils drawn in with a rope, so that they
could neither stir nor make a sound, and the adventurers, concealing
themselves, waited while watching with the most profound attention.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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