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
"At once, there is not a moment to lose."
"Good! Give the necessary orders, I am ready."
"I must warn you, however, that the men to whom I am sending you, are
slightly of a scampish nature, and you must not assume any high moral
tone with them."
"What does it concern me? if they were even pirates of the prairies,
believe me, I should attach no importance to the fact."
"Bravo! I see that we understand each other, for I believe these worthy
gentlemen dabble a little in all trades."
"Good, good!" the Scalper gaily answered; "Do not trouble yourself about
that."
"In that case, get ready to start; I shall return in ten minutes at the
latest."
With these words, the monk left the room. The old man, who had not many
preparations to make, was soon in a position to take the road. As he had
stated, within ten minutes the monk returned, followed by four men.
Among them was Ruperto, who, it will be remembered, offered the advice
to bury the wounded man in the sand. The Scalper was still very weak,
and incapable of either walking or sitting a horse. The monk had
remedied this inconvenience, as far as possible, by having a clumsy
litter prepared for the wounded man, carried by two mules, and in which
he could recline. This mode of transport was very slow, and extremely
inconvenient, especially for the guides, in a country such as they had
to cross; but it was the only one practicable at the moment, and so they
must put up with it. The wounded man was carried to the litter, and laid
on it as comfortably as was possible.
"And now," said the monk, "may Heaven direct you; do not feel at all
alarmed, Ruperto has many instructions, and I know him well enough to be
convinced that he will not depart from them, whatever may happen. So you
can trust to him. Good bye!"
And, after giving the wounded man his hand, Fray Antonio made a movement
to retire.
"One moment," said the old man, as he held the hand he had taken; "I
wish to say but one word to you."
"Speak, but be brief. I have the weightiest reasons for desiring your
immediate departure; in a few minutes some wounded men will arrive here,
who have hitherto been kept in the fort, and whom you would probably not
be at all pleased to meet."
"I fancy I can understand to whom you allude; but that is not the
question. I wish, before parting with you, and not knowing whether I
shall ever see you again, to express to you the gratitude I feel for
your conduct toward me, a gratitude which is the greater because I am
convinced you have recognised me."
"And suppose I have?"
"You needed only to say one word to surrender me to my most inveterate
enemies; and yet you did not utter that word."
"Certainly not; for even supposing, as you seem to believe, that I have
recognised you, I was only discharging a debt I had incurred with you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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