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
"To death!" Loyal Heart repeated. "The sentence was a just one. Neither
the supplications of his servants, nor the tears nor entreaties of my
mother, succeeded in obtaining a commutation of my punishment. My father
was inexorable, his resolution was formed, and he immediately proceeded
to execute the sentence. The death my father reserved for me was not
that vulgar death, whose sufferings endure a few seconds; no, he had
said that he had determined to punish me, and designed a long and cruel
agony for me. Tearing me from the arms of mother, who was half fainting
with grief, he threw me across his saddle-bow, and started at a gallop
in the direction of the desert.
"It was a long journey, for it lasted many hours ere my father checked
the speed of his horse or uttered a syllable. I felt the trembling
sinews of the wearied horse give way under me; but still it went on at
the same rapid and dizzy speed. At length it stopped; my father
dismounted, took me in his arms, and threw me on the ground. Within a
moment, he removed the bandage that covered my eyes; I looked anxiously
around me, but it was night, and so dark that I could see nothing. My
father regarded me for a moment with an indefinable expression, and then
spoke. Although many long years have elapsed since that terrible night,
all the words of that address are still imprinted on my mind.
"'See,' he said to me in a quick voice, 'you are here more than twenty
leagues from my hacienda, in which you will never set foot again, under
penalty of death. From this moment you are alone--you have neither
father, mother, nor family. As you are a wild beast, I condemn you to
live with the wild beasts. My resolution is irrevocable, your entreaties
cannot alter it, so spare me them.'
"Perhaps in the last sentence a hope was concealed; but I was no longer
in a condition to see the road left open for me, for irritation and
suffering had exasperated me.
"'I do not implore you,' I replied; 'we do not offer entreaties to a
hangman.'
"At this insulting outrage, my father started; but almost immediately
after every trace of emotion disappeared from his face, and he
continued:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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