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
"We knew not whither we were going, and did not trouble ourselves at all
about it; plains succeeded forests, streams rivers, and we continued our
forward march, hunting to support life, and camping wherever night
surprised us, without regret for the past or anxiety for the future. We
advanced thus straight ahead for nearly a month, avoiding, as far as
possible, any encounter with the wild beasts, or the savages, whom we
believed to be as ferocious as them.
"One day--a Sunday--the march was interrupted, and we spent it in pious
conversation, and my mother read the Bible and explained it to No
Eusebio and myself. About three in the afternoon, when the great heat of
the day was beginning to yield, I rose and took my gun, with the
intention of killing a little game, as our provisions were nearly
exhausted, and I was absolutely compelled to renew them. My mother made
no objection, though, as I have stated, Sundays were generally
consecrated to rest: and I went off with the two rastreros. I went on
for a long distance without seeing anything deserving powder and shot,
and was thinking of turning back, when my two dogs, which were running
on ahead, according to their wont, came to halt, while evidencing
unusual signs of terror and restlessness.
"Although I was still a novice in the wood ranger's art, I judged it
necessary to act with prudence, as I did not know what enemy I might
find before me. I therefore advanced step by step, watching the
neighbourhood closely, and listening to the slightest noise. My
uncertainty did not last long, for terrible cries soon reached my ear.
My first impulse was flight, but my curiosity restrained me, and,
cocking my rifle, so as to be ready for all events, I continued to
advance in the direction whence the cries came, now louder and more
desperate than before.
"Ere long all was revealed to me; I perceived through the trees, in a
rather spacious clearing, five or six Indian warriors, fighting with the
fury of despair, against a threefold number of enemies. These Indians
had doubtless been surprised in their camp, for their horses were
hobbled, their fire was just going out, and several corpses, already
robbed of their scalps, lay on the ground. These warriors, in spite of
the numerical superiority of their foes, fought with desperate courage,
not yielding an inch, and boldly replying with their war yell to that
of their opponents.
"The Indian who appeared the Chief of the weaker party, was a tall young
man, of twenty, at the most, powerfully built, with a leonine face, and
who, while dealing terrible blows, did not cease exciting his men to
resist to the death. Neither of the parties had firearms, they were
fighting with axes and long barbed lances. All at once, several men
rushed simultaneously on the young Chief, and, despite his desperate
efforts, succeeded in throwing him down, then a hand seized his long
scalp lock, and I saw a knife raised above his head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account