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 THE SCALP HUNTERS.
 
 THE SCALP HUNTERS; 
 
 ROMANTIC ADVENTURES IN 
 NORTHERN MEXICO. 
 
 BY 
 
 CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE "RIFLE RANGERS." 
 
 m THREE VOLS. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 CHARLES J. SKEET, PUBLISHER, 
 
 21 KING WILLIAM STREET, 
 
 CHARING CROSS. 
 1851.
 
 IV 
 
 >i\ 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY MYERS AND CO., 
 
 22, TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
 
 2 at 
 
 V.I 
 
 
 ■J 
 
 <^ TO 
 
 ^COMMODORE EDW. W. MOORE, 
 
 1 
 
 Texas, 
 
 FROM HIS FRIEND, 
 
 1 
 
 1- 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ^
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 About a year ago, I submitted to the 
 public a book under the title of the " Eifle 
 Rangers." It was prefaced as " truth 
 poetically coloured" — truth for the ground- 
 work, the flowering fancy — fact, enamelled 
 by fiction — a mosaic of romance and reality. 
 
 Some have said, that the " poetic colour- 
 ing " was a thought too vivid. Perhaps it 
 was so; but the general judgment upon that 
 little effort, not only satisfied, but gratified 
 me ; and to you, who have pronounced in its 
 favour, I now offer " another of the same."
 
 Vill PREFACE. 
 
 I shall be quite content, if your sentence 
 upon this be marked by no greater se- 
 verity. 
 
 I regret that my book exhibits no higher 
 purpose than to amuse; but I have en- 
 deavoured to enamel its pages with a 
 thousand facts — the result of my own ex- 
 perience. I have endeavoured to paint 
 scenes of a strange land, as they are painted 
 on my memory. If you cannot believe 
 them true, may I hope that you will ac- 
 knowledge their vraisemhlance ? 
 
 But why should I contend for their 
 truthfulness, after declaring myself guilty 
 of no higher aim than to amuse you? I 
 will not, then. Let it all pass for a fiction 
 — a novel, if you will — but, in return for 
 this concession on my part, permit me to 
 ask you — do you not think it a " novel kind" 
 of a novel? If you answer this question 
 in the affirmative, then have I won my 
 purpose.
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 Before going farther, I have two words 
 to say — one of warning to you, and one of 
 apology for myself. My scenes are of a 
 sanguinary nature — some of them extremely 
 so — but, alas ! far less red than the realities, 
 from which they were drawn. I know that 
 this is but a lame apology for having de- 
 picted them ; but I do not wish you to enter 
 upon them unwarned. I am a coarse, crude, 
 and careless writer. I lack those classic 
 sympathies, which enable many of my 
 brethren of the pen to give such elegant 
 expression to their thoughts. If I mitst 
 write, therefore, I am compelled — in order 
 to interest — to lay more stress upon matter 
 than manner — to describe the rude realities, 
 rather than the refinements of thought and 
 life. Moreover, my book is a trapper book. 
 It is well known that trappers swear like 
 troopers — some of them, in fact, worse. 
 I have endeavoured to Christianize my trap- 
 pers as much as lay in my power ; but,
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 I fear, this emphatic phraseology is too much 
 a key-stone of their character to be omitted 
 without undoing them altogether. To use 
 a hackneyed figure, it would be *' Hamlet 
 with Hamlet left out." 
 
 /, however, see a wide distinction between 
 the impiety of a trapper's oath, and the 
 immorality of an unchaste episode. The 
 former can only shock the moral nerve for 
 a moment — the latter may impress it for 
 ever. 
 
 I trust, reader, that you are emancipated 
 from that literary hypocrisy which refuses 
 to perceive this distinction ; and, trusting 
 so, with confidence I leave my character in 
 your hands. 
 
 Mayne Reld. 
 London, June, 1851.
 
 THE SCALP HUNTERS.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS; 
 
 OB, 
 
 ROMANTIC ADVENTURES IN NORTHERN 
 MEXICO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WILD WEST. 
 
 Unrol the world's map, and look upon 
 the great northern continent of America. 
 Away to the wild west — away toward the 
 setting sun — away beyond many a far meri- 
 dian — let your eyes wander. Rest them, 
 where golden rivers rise among peaks that 
 carry the eternal snow. Rest them there. 
 
 You are looking upon a land whose 
 features are unfurrowed by human hands— 
 stiU bearing the marks of the Almighty 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE SCALP-HUNTEHS. 
 
 mould, as upon the morning of creation. A 
 region, whose every object wears the impress 
 of God's image. His ambient spirit lives in 
 the silent grandeur of its mountains, and 
 speaks in the roar of its mighty rivers. A 
 region redolent of romance — rich in the 
 reality of adventure. 
 
 Follow me, with the eye of your mind, 
 through scenes of wild beauty, of savage 
 sublimity. 
 
 I stand in an open plain. I turn my face 
 to the north, to the south, to the east, and 
 to the west ; and, on all sides, behold the 
 blue circle of the heavens girdling around 
 me. Nor rock, nor tree, breaks the ring of 
 the horizon. What covers the broad ex- 
 panse between? Wood? water? grass? No 
 — flowers ! As far as my eye can range, it 
 rests only on flowers — on beautiful flowers ! 
 
 I am looking as on a tinted map — an 
 enamelled picture brilliant with every 
 hue of the prism.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. d 
 
 . Yonder is golden yellow, where the 
 helianthus turns her dial-like face to the 
 sun. Yonder, scarlet, where the malva 
 erects its red banner. Here is a par- 
 terre of the purple monarda — there the 
 euphorbia sheds its silver leaf. Yonder 
 the orange predominates in the showy 
 flowers of the asclepia; and beyond, the 
 eye roams over the pink blossoms of the 
 cleome. 
 
 The breeze stirs them. Millions of 
 corollas are waving their gaudy standards. 
 The tall stalks of the helianthus bend and 
 rise in long undulations, like billows on a 
 golden sea! 
 
 They are at rest again. The air is 
 filled T\dth odours, sweet as the perfumes 
 of Araby or Ind. Myriads of insects 
 flap their gay wings — flowers of them- 
 selves. The bee-birds skirr around, glan- 
 cing like stray sunbeams; or, poised on 
 whirring wings, drink from the nectared 
 
 B 2
 
 ^ THE SCAIJP-HUNTERS. 
 
 cups ; and the wild bee, with laden limbs, 
 clings among the honeyed pistils, or leaves 
 for his far hive with a song of joy. 
 
 Who planted these flowers? Who hath 
 woven them into these pictured parterres? 
 Nature. It is her richest mantle^ — ^richer 
 in its hues than the scarfs of Cashmere. 
 
 This is the " weed prairie." It is mis- 
 named. It is the garden of God. 
 
 « « * « 
 
 The scene is changed. I am in a plain 
 as before, with the unbroken horizon circling 
 around me. What do I behold ? Flowers ? 
 No, there is not a flower in sight, but one 
 vast expanse of living verdure ! From north 
 to south, from east to west, stretches the 
 prairie meadow, green as all emerald, and 
 smooth as the surface of a sleeping lake ! 
 
 The wind is upon its bosom, sweeping the 
 silken blades. They are in motion ; and the 
 verdure is dappled into lighter and darker 
 shades, as the shadows of summer clouds 
 fleeting across the sun.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. b 
 
 The eye wanders mthout resistance. 
 Perchance, it encounters the dark hirsute 
 forms of the buffalo, or traces the tiny out- 
 lines of the antelope. Perchance, it follows, 
 in pleased wonder, the far-wild gallop of a 
 snow-white steed. 
 
 This is the " grass prairie," the boundless 
 
 pasture of the bison. 
 
 * * * ^ 
 
 The scene changes. The earth is no 
 longer level, but treeless and verdant as ever. 
 Its surface exhibits a succession of parallel 
 undulations, here and there swelling into 
 smooth round hills. It is covered with a soft 
 turf of briUiant greenness. These undula- 
 tions remind one of the ocean after a mighty 
 storm, when the crisped foam has died upon 
 the waves, and the big swell comes bowKng 
 in. They look as though they had once 
 been such waves, that, by an omnipotent 
 mandate, had been transformed to earth, 
 and suddenly stood still !
 
 6 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 This is the " rolling prairie." 
 
 ♦ * * ♦ 
 
 Again the scene changes. I am among 
 green swards and bright flowers; but the 
 view is broken by groves and clumps of 
 copse- wood. The frondage is varied, its 
 tints vivid, and its outlines soft and grace- 
 ful. As I move forward, new landscapes 
 open up continuously — views parklike and 
 picturesque. " Gangs" of buffalo, " herds" 
 of antelope, and " droves " of wild horses, 
 mottle the far vistas. Turkeys run into the 
 coppice ; and pheasants whirr up from the 
 path. 
 
 Where are the owners of these lands, 
 of these flocks and fowls ? Where are the 
 houses — ^the palaces — ^that should appertain 
 to these lordly parks? I look forward, 
 expecting to see the turrets of tall mansions 
 spring up over the groves. But no. For 
 hundreds of miles around no chimney sends 
 forth its smoke. Although with a culti-
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 7 
 
 vated aspect, this region is only trodden by 
 
 the mocassoned foot of the hunter, and his 
 
 enemy, the red Indian. 
 
 These are the " mottes " — the " islands " 
 
 of the prairie sea. 
 
 ♦ * * * 
 
 I am in the deep forest. It is night, and 
 the log fire throws out its vermillion 
 glare, painting the objects that surround 
 our bivouac. Huge trunks stand thickly 
 around us ; and massive limbs, gray and 
 giant-like, stretch out and over. I notice 
 the bark. It is cracked, and clings in broad 
 scales crisping outward. Long snake-hke 
 parasites creep from tree to tree — coiling 
 the trunks, as though they were serpents, and 
 would crush them ! There are no leaves 
 overhead. They have riped, and fallen ; but 
 the white Spanish moss, festooned along the 
 branches, hangs weeping down like the dra- 
 pery of a death-bed ! 
 
 Prostrate trunks — yards in diameter, and
 
 8 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 half-decayed — lie along the ground. Their 
 ends exhibit vast cavities, where the porcu- 
 pine and opossum have taken shelter from 
 the cold. 
 
 My comrades— wrapped in their blankets, 
 and stretched upon the dead leaves — have 
 gone to sleep. They lie with their feet to 
 the fire, and their heads resting in the hollow 
 of their saddles. The horses standing around 
 a tree, and tied to its lower branches, seem 
 also to sleep. I am awake, and listening. The 
 wind is high up, whistling among the twigs, 
 and causing the long white streamers to oscil- 
 late. It utters a wild and melancholy music. 
 There are few other sounds, for it is winter, 
 and the tree-frog and cicada are silent. I 
 hear the crackling knots in the fire — the 
 rustling of dry leaves " swirled" up by a 
 stray gust — the "coo-whoo-a" of the white 
 owl — the bark of the racoon — and, at inter- 
 vals, the dismal howling of wolves. These 
 are the nocturnal voices of the winter forest.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. ^ 
 
 They are savage sounds ; yet there is a chord 
 in my bosom that vibrates under their in- 
 fluence; and my spirit is tinged with ro- 
 mance, as I lie and listen. 
 
 * * ^ « 
 
 The forest in autumn — still bearing its 
 fuU frondage. The leaves resemble flowers, 
 so bright are their hues. They are red, and 
 yellow, and golden, and brown. The woods 
 are warm and glorious now ; and the birds 
 flutter among the laden branches. The eye 
 wanders delighted down long vistas, and 
 over sunlit glades. It is caught by the 
 flashing of gaudy plumage, the golden -green 
 of the paroquet, the blue of the jay, and the 
 orange wing of the oriole. The red bird 
 flutters lower down in the coppice of green 
 pa^vpaws, or amidst the amber leaflets of 
 the beechen thicket. Hundreds of tiny 
 wings flit through the openings, twinkling 
 in the sun like the glancing of gems. 
 
 The air is filled with music — sweet sounds 
 
 B 3
 
 10 THE SCALP-HUNTEHS. 
 
 of love. The bark of the squirrel, the coo- 
 ing of mated doves, the "rat-ta-ta" of 
 the pecker, and the constant and measured 
 chirrup of the cicada, are all ringing toge- 
 ther. High up, on a topmost twig, the mock 
 bird pours forth his mimic note, as though 
 he would shame all other songsters into 
 
 silence. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I am in a country of brown barren earth, 
 and broken outlines. There are rocks, and 
 clefts, and patches of sterile soil. Strange 
 vegetable forms grow in the clefts, and hang 
 over the rocks. Others are spheroidal in 
 shape, resting upon the surface of the 
 parched earth. Others rise vertically to a 
 great height, like carved and fluted columns. 
 Some throw out branches, crooked shaggy 
 branches, with hirsute oval leaves. Yet 
 there is a homogeneousness about all 
 these vegetable forms — in their colour, in 
 their fruit, and flowers — that proclaims
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 11 
 
 them of one family. They are cacti. It 
 is a forest of the Mexican nopaL Another 
 singular plant is here. It throws out long 
 thorny leaves that curve downward. It is 
 the agave, the far-famed mezcal-plant of 
 Mexico. Here and there, mingling with 
 the cacti, are trees of acacia and mezquite — 
 the denizens of the desert land. No bright 
 object relieves the eye ; no bird pours its 
 melody into the ear. The lonely owl flaps 
 away into the impassable thicket — the rattle- 
 snake glides under its scanty shade — and 
 the coyote skulks through its silent glades. 
 * # # * 
 
 I have climbed mountain after mountain, 
 and still I behold peaks soaring far above, 
 crowned with the snow that never melts. 
 I stand upon beetling cliffs, and look into 
 chasms that yawn beneath, sleeping in 
 the silence of desolation. Great fragments 
 have fallen into them, and He piled upon 
 one another. Others hang threatening over,
 
 12 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 as if waiting for some concussion of the at- 
 mosphere to hurl them from their balance. 
 Dark precipices frown me into fear ; and 
 my head reels with a dizzy faintness. I 
 hold to the pine tree shaft, or the angle of 
 the firmer rock. 
 
 Above, and below, and around me, are 
 mountains piled on mountains in chaotic 
 confusion. Some are bald and bleak : others 
 exhibit traces of vegetation, in the dark 
 needles of the pine and cedar, whose stunted 
 forms half-grow, half-hang from the cliffs. 
 Here, a cone-shaped peak soars up till it is 
 lost in snow and clouds. There, a ridge 
 elevates its sharp outline against the sky ; 
 while along its sides lie huge boulders of 
 granite, as though they had been hurled 
 from the hands of Titan giants ! 
 
 A fearful monster — the grizzly bear — drags 
 his body along the high ridges ; the carca- 
 jou squats upon the projecting rock, wait- 
 ing the elk that must pass to the water
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 13 
 
 below ; and the bighorn bounds from crag 
 to crag in search of his shy mate. Along 
 the pine branch the bald buzzard wl^pts his 
 filthy beak ; and the war-eagle, soaring over 
 all, cuts sharply against the blue field of 
 the heavens ! 
 
 These are the Rocky Mountains — the 
 American Andes — the colossal vertebrae of 
 
 the continent! 
 
 * * ^ * * 
 
 Such are the aspects of the wild west — 
 such is the scenery of our drama. 
 
 Let us raise the curtain, and bring on 
 the characters.
 
 14 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PRAIRIE MERCHANTS. 
 
 " New Orleans j 
 "April 3rd, 18—. 
 "Dear St. Vrain, 
 
 " Our young friend, M. Henry Hal- 
 ler, goes to St. Louis in ' search of the 
 picturesque.' See that he be put through 
 a ' regular course of sprouts.' 
 " Yours, 
 
 "Luis Walton. 
 " Charles St. Vrain, Esq., 
 
 " Planter's Hotel, 
 
 " St. Louis."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 15 
 
 With this laconic epistle in my waistcoat 
 pocket, I debarked at St. Louis on the 
 10th of April, and drove to the " Planter's." 
 
 After getting my baggage stowed, and 
 my horse (a favourite I had brought with 
 me) stabled, I put on a clean shirt ; and, 
 descending to the " office," inquired for M. 
 St. Vrain. 
 
 He was not there. He had gone up the 
 Missouri river, several days before. 
 
 This was a disappointment, as I had 
 brought no other introduction to St. Louis. 
 But I endeavoured to await with patience 
 the return of M. St. Vrain. He was ex- 
 pected back in less than a week. 
 
 Day after day, I mounted my horse. I 
 rode up to the " Mounds," and out upon 
 the prairies. I lounged about the hotel ; 
 and smoked my cigar in its fine piazza. I 
 drank '^ sherry cobblers " in the saloon ; 
 and read the journals in the "reading 
 room."
 
 16 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 With these and such like occupations, I 
 killed time for three whole days. 
 
 There was a party of gentlemen stopping 
 at the hotel, who seemed to know each 
 other well. I might call them a clique ; 
 but that is not a good word, and does not 
 express what I mean. They appeared ra- 
 ther, a band of friendly, jovial fellows. They 
 strolled together through the streets, and 
 sat side by side at the table d'hote, where 
 they usually remained long after the regular 
 diners had retired. I noticed that they 
 drank the most expensive wines, and smoked 
 the finest cigars the house afforded. 
 
 My attention was attracted to these men. 
 I was struck with their peculiar bearing — 
 their erect, Indian-like carriage in the 
 streets, combined with a boyish gaiety, so 
 characteristic of the western American. 
 
 They dressed nearly alike ; in fine black 
 cloth, white linen, satin vests, and diamond 
 pins. They wore the whisker full, but
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 17 
 
 smoothly trimmed ; and several of them 
 sported moustaches. Their hair fell curling 
 over their shoulders ; and most of them 
 wore their collars turned down, displaying 
 healthy-looking, sun- tanned throats. I was 
 struck with a vraisemhlance in their phy- 
 siognomy. Their faces did not resemble 
 each other ; but there was an unmistake- 
 able similarity in the expression of the eye 
 — ^no doubt, the mark that had been made 
 by like occupations and experience. 
 
 Were they sportsmen ? No. The sports- 
 man's hands are whiter. There is more 
 jewellery on his fingers ; his waistcoat is of 
 a gayer pattern; and altogether his dress 
 will be more gaudy and super-elegant. 
 Moreover, the sportsman lacks that air of 
 free-and-easy confidence. He dares not as- 
 sume it. He may live in the hotel ; but he 
 must be quiet and unobtrusive. The 
 sportsman is a bird of prey ; hence, like all 
 birds of prey, his habits are silent and soli- 
 tary. They are not of his profession.
 
 18 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " Who are these gentlemen ? " I in- 
 quired, from a person who sat by me, indi- 
 cating to him the men of whom I have 
 spoken. 
 
 " The prairie men." 
 
 " The prairie men ! " 
 
 " Yes. The Santa Fe traders." 
 
 " Traders ! " I echoed, in some surprise, 
 not being able to connect such elegantes 
 with any ideas of trade or the prairies. 
 
 " Yes," continued my informant. " That 
 large, fine-looking man, in the middle, is 
 Bent — Bill Bent, as he is called. The 
 gentleman on his right is young Sublette ; 
 the other, standing on his left, is one of the 
 Choteaus ; and that is the sober Jerry 
 Folger." 
 
 "These, then, are the celebrated prairie 
 merchants ? " 
 
 " Precisely so." 
 
 I sat, eyeing them with increased curiosity. 
 I observed that they were looking at me;
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 19 
 
 and that I was the subject of their conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Presently, one of them — a dashing-like 
 young fellow — parted from the group, and 
 walked up to me. 
 
 " Were you inquiring for Mr. St. Yrain ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 "I was." 
 
 ''Charles?" 
 
 " Yes, that is the name." 
 
 "lam " 
 
 I pulled out my note of introduction, and 
 handed it to the gentleman ; who glanced 
 over its contents. 
 
 " My dear friend," said he, grasping me 
 cordially ; '' devilish sorry I have not been 
 here. I came down the river this morning. 
 How stupid of Walton not to superscribe 
 to Bill Bent. How long have you been up ?" 
 
 " Three days. I arrived on the 10th." 
 
 "By the Lord! you are lost. Come, let 
 me make you acquainted. Here, Bent! 
 BiU! Jerry! "
 
 20 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 And, the next moment, 1 had shaken 
 hands with one and all of the traders ; of 
 which fraternity, I found, that my new 
 friend, St. Yrain, was a member. 
 
 "First gong that?" asked one, as the 
 loud scream of a gong came through the 
 gallery. 
 
 "Yes," replied Bent, consulting his watch. 
 " Just time to ' licker.' Come along !" 
 
 Bent moved toward the saloon ; and we 
 all followed, nemine dissentieiite. 
 
 The spring season was setting in ; and 
 the young mint had sprouted — a botanical 
 fact with which my new acquaintances ap- 
 peared to be familiar — as one and all of 
 them ordered a " mint julep." This bever- 
 age, in the mixing and drinking, occupied 
 our time until the second scream of the 
 gong summoned us to dinner. 
 
 " Sit with us, Mr. Haller," said Bent ; 
 " I am sorry v/e didn't know you sooner — 
 you have been lonely."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 21 
 
 And so saying, he led the way into the 
 dining-room, followed by his companions 
 and myself. 
 
 I need not describe a dinner at the 
 Planter's St. Louis, mth its venison steaks, 
 its buffalo tongues, its "prairie chickens," 
 and its delicious frog "fixings" from the 
 Illinois " bottom." No. I would not de- 
 scribe the dinner, and what followed, I am 
 afraid I could not. 
 
 We sat until we had the table to our- 
 selves. Then the cloth was removed ; and 
 we commenced smoking regalias^ and drink- 
 ing madeira at twelve dollars a bottle ! This 
 was ordered in by some one, not in single 
 bottles, but by the half-dozen ! I remember 
 thus far well enough ; and that, whenever 
 I took up a wine-card or a pencil, these 
 articles were snatched out of my fingers. 
 
 I remember listening to stories of wild 
 adventures among the Pawnees, and the 
 Comanches, and the Blackfeet, until I was
 
 22 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 filled with interest, and became enthusiastic 
 about prairie-life. Then some one asked 
 me, would I not like to join them in "a 
 trip ?" Upon this, I made a speech ; and 
 proposed to accompany my new acquaint- 
 ances on their next expedition ; and then 
 St. Yrain said I was just the man for their 
 life ; and this pleased me highly. Then 
 some one sang a Spanish song, with a 
 guitar, I think; and some one else danced 
 an Indian war-dance ; and then we all rose to 
 our feet, and chorused the " Star-spangled 
 .Banner;" and I remember nothing else 
 after this, until next morning, when I re- 
 member well that I awoke with a splitting 
 headache. 
 
 I had hardly time to reflect on my pre- 
 vious night's foUy, when the door opened ; 
 and St. Yrain, with half a dozen of my table 
 companions, rushed into the room. They 
 were followed by a waiter, who carried
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 23 
 
 several large glasses topped witli ice, and 
 filled with a pale amber-coloured liquid. 
 
 "A sherry cobbler, Mr. Haller," cried 
 one ; " best thing in the world for you — 
 drain it my boy. It'll cool you in a 
 squirrel's jump." 
 
 I drank off the refreshing beverage, as 
 desired. 
 
 *' Now, my dear friend," said St. Vrain, 
 " you feel a hundred per cent, better? But 
 tell me ! were you in earnest, when you 
 spoke of going with us across the plains? 
 We start in a week; I shall be sorry to 
 part with you so soon." 
 
 But I was in earnest. I am going with 
 you, if you will only show me how I am 
 to set about it." 
 
 " Nothing easier — buy yourself a horse. 
 
 " I have got one." 
 
 "Then a few coarse articles of dress, a 
 Ti^<^^ a pair of pistols, a — " 
 
 "Stop, stop — I have all these things.
 
 24 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 That is not what I would be at, but this. 
 You, gentlemen, carry goods to Santa Fe. 
 You double, or treble, your money on them. 
 Now I have 10,000 dollars in a bank here. 
 What should hinder me to combine profit 
 with pleasure, and invest it as you?" 
 
 " Nothing — ^nothing ! A good idea," an- 
 swered several. 
 
 " Well then, if any of you will have the 
 goocjness to go with me ; and show me what 
 sort of merchandise I am to lay in for the 
 Santa Fe market, I wiU pay for his wine 
 biU at dinner; and that^s no small com- 
 mission, I think." 
 
 The prairie men laughed loudly, declaring 
 they would aU go a-shopping with me ; and, 
 after breakfast, we started in a body, arm- 
 in-arm. 
 
 Before dinner I had invested nearly all 
 my disposable funds in printed calicoes, long 
 knives, and looking glasses; leaving just 
 money enough to purchase mule-wagons
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 25 
 
 and hire teamsters at Independence — our 
 point of departure for the " plains." 
 
 A few days after, with my new compan- 
 ions, I was steaming it up the Missouri, 
 on our way to the trackless prairies of the 
 '' Far West." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 26 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE "prairie fever." 
 
 After a week spent in Independence, 
 buying mules and wagons, we took the 
 route over the plains. There were a hun- 
 dred wagons in the *' caravan," and nearly 
 twice that number of teamsters and attend- 
 ants. Two of the capacious vehicles con- 
 tained aU my "plunder;" and to manage 
 them, I had hired a couple of lathy long- 
 haired Missourians. I had also engaged a 
 Canadian voyageur, named Gode, as a sort 
 of attendant or compagnon.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 27 
 
 Where are tlie glossy elegantes of the 
 planters' hotel? One would suppose they 
 had been left behind ; as here are none but 
 men in hunting shirts and slouch hats. 
 Yes — but under these hats we recognise 
 their faces, and in these rude shirts we have 
 the same jo\ial fellows as ever. The silky 
 black and the diamonds have disappeared ; 
 for now the traders flourish under the 
 prairie costume. I will endeavour to give 
 an idea of the appearance of my companions 
 by describing my own ; for I am '^ tricked 
 out" very much like themselves 
 
 I wear a himting shirt of dressed deer 
 skin. It is a garment more after the style 
 of an ancient tunic, than anything I can 
 think of It is of a light yellow colour, 
 beautifully stitched and embroidered; and 
 the cape — for it has a short cape — is fringed 
 by tags cut out of the leather itself The 
 skirt is also bordered by a similar fringe, 
 and hangs full and low. A pair of " savers" 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 of scarlet cloth cover my limbs to the thigh ; 
 and under these are strong jeans pantaloons, 
 heavy boots, and big brass spurs. A 
 coloured cotton shirt, a blue neck-tie, and a 
 broad-brimmed Guayaquil hat, complete the 
 articles of my every day dress. Behind me, 
 on the cantle of my saddle, may be observed 
 a bright red object folded into a cylindrical 
 form. That is my "Mackinaw," a great 
 favourite — for it makes my bed by night, and 
 my great coat on other occasions. There is a 
 small slit in the middle of it, through which 
 I thrust my head in cold or rainy weather; 
 and I am thus covered to the ankles. 
 
 As I have said, my compagnons du voyage 
 are similarly attired. There may be a dif- 
 ference of colour in the blanket or the 
 leggings, or the shirt may be of other 
 materials ; but that I have described may be 
 taken as a " character dress." 
 
 We are all somewhat similarly armed and 
 equipped. For my part, I may say that I
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 29 
 
 am " armed to the teeth." In my holsters I 
 carry a pair of Colt's large- sized revolvers, 
 six shots each. In my belt is another pair 
 of the small size, with five shots each. In 
 addition, I have a light rifle, making in all 
 twenty-three shots, which I have learnt to 
 deliver in as many seconds of time. Failing 
 with all these, I carry in my belt a long 
 shining blade known as a '' bow^ie knife." 
 This last is my hunting knife, my dining 
 knife, and, in short, my knife of " all work." 
 For accoutrements I have a pouch and flask, 
 both sluno; under the rio'ht arm. I have 
 also a large gourd canteen, and a haver- 
 sack for my rations. So have all my com- 
 panions. 
 
 But we are differently mounted. Some 
 ride saddle mules ; others stride a mustang ; 
 while a few have brought their favourite 
 American horses. I am of this number. 
 I ride a dark brown stallion with blacklegs, 
 and muzzle like the withered fern. He is a
 
 80 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 half Arab, and of perfect proportions. He 
 is called "Moro," a Spanish name, given him 
 by the Louisiana planter from whom I 
 bought him, but why I do not know. I 
 have retained the name, and he answers to 
 it readily. He is strong, fleet, and beauti- 
 ful. Many of my friends fancy him on the 
 route, and offer large prices for him; but 
 these do not tempt me, for my Moro serves 
 me well. Every day I grow more and more 
 attached to him. My dog. Alp, a San Ber- 
 nard that I bought from a Swiss emigre in 
 St. Louis, hardly comes in for a tithe of my 
 affections. 
 
 I find, in referring to my note book, that 
 for weeks we travelled over the prairies, 
 without any incident of unusual interest. 
 To me the scenery was interest enough ; and 
 I do not remember a more striking picture 
 than to see the long caravan of wagons — 
 the "prairie ships" — deployed over the plain, 
 or crawling slowly up some gentle slope —
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 31 
 
 their white tilts contrasting beautifully with 
 the deep green of the earth. At night too, 
 the camp, with its corralled wagons, and 
 horses picketed around, was equally a pic- 
 ture. The scenery was altogether new to 
 me, and imbued me with impressions of a 
 peculiar character. The streams were 
 fringed with tall groves of cottonwood trees, 
 whose column -like stems supported a thick 
 frondage of silvery leaves. These groves, 
 meeting at different points, walled in the view, 
 so dividing the prairies from one another, 
 that we seemed to travel through vast fields 
 fenced by colossal hedges ! 
 
 We crossed many rivers, fording some, 
 and floating our wagons over others that 
 were deeper and wider. Occasionally we 
 saw deer, and antelope ; and our hunters shot 
 a few of these ; but we had not yet reached 
 the range of the buffalo. Once we stopped 
 a day to recruit in a wooded ^'bottom," 
 where the grass was plenty, and the water
 
 32 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 pure. Now and then too, we were halted to 
 mend a broken tongue or an axle, or help a 
 " stalled" wagon from its miry bed. 
 
 I had very little trouble with my particu- 
 lar division of the caravan. My Missourians 
 turned out to be a pair of staunch hands, 
 who could assist one another, without mak- 
 ing a desperate aifair of every slight accident. 
 
 The grass had sprung up, and our mules 
 and oxen, instead of thinning down, every 
 day grew fatter upon it. Moro, therefore, 
 came in for a better share of the maize that 
 I had brought in my wagons, and which 
 kept my favourite in fine travelling condi- 
 tion. 
 
 As we approached the Arkansas, we saw 
 mounted Indians disappearing over the 
 swells. They were Pawnees ; and for several 
 days clouds of these dusky warriors hung 
 upon the skirts of the caravan. But they 
 knew our strength, and kept at a wary dis- 
 tance from our long rifles.
 
 THE SCALP-HUXTERS. 33 
 
 To me every day brought something new, 
 either in the incidents of the " voyage," or 
 the features of the landscape. 
 
 Gode — who had been by turns a voyageur\ a 
 hunter, a trapper, and a coureur du hois — in our 
 private dialogues, had given me an insight into 
 many an item of prairie -craft, thus enabling 
 me to cut quite a respectable figure among 
 my new comrades. St. A^rain too — whose 
 frank, generous manner had already won 
 my confidence — spared no pains to make the 
 trip agreeable to me. What with the wild 
 gallops by day, and the wilder tales by the night 
 watch-fires, I became intoxicated with the 
 romance of my new life. / had caught the 
 ''' prairie fever !^^ 
 
 So my companions told me, laughing! 
 I did not understand them then. I knew 
 what they meant afterwards. The prairie 
 fever ! Yes. I was just then in process of 
 being innoculated by that strange disease. It 
 grew upon me apace. The dreams of home 
 
 c3
 
 34 THE SCALP-HUKTEBS. 
 
 began to die within me ; and, with these, 
 the illusory ideas of many a young and 
 foolish ambition. Died away, too — dead out 
 of my heart — the allurements of the great 
 city — the memory of soft eyes and silken 
 tresses — the impress of amorous emotions — 
 foes to human happiness — all died away, as 
 if they had never been, or I had never felt 
 them! 
 
 My strength increased, both physically 
 and intellectually. I experienced a buoy- 
 ancy of spirits and a vigour of body, I 
 had never known before. I felt a pleasure 
 in action. My blood seemed to rush warmer 
 and swifter through my veins ; and I fancied 
 that my eyes reached to a more distant vision. 
 I could look boldly upon the sun, without 
 quivering in my glance. 
 
 Had I imbibed a portion of the divine 
 essence, that lives and moves, and has its 
 being in those vast solitudes ? 
 
 Who can answer this ?
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 85 
 
 The prairie fever ! I feel it now ! Whilst 
 I am penning these memories, my fingers 
 twitch to grasp the reins — my knees quiver 
 to press the sides of my noble horse, and 
 wildly wander over the verdant billows of 
 the prairie sea !
 
 36 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A RIDE UPON A BUFFALO BULL. 
 
 We had been out about two weeks, when we 
 struck the Arkansas " Bend," about six miles 
 below the " Plum Buttes." Here our wag- 
 ons corralled and camped. 
 
 So far we had seen but little of the buffalo : 
 only a stray bull ; or at most two or three 
 together; and these shy. It was now the 
 " running season," but none of the great 
 droves — love maddened — had crossed us. 
 
 ^' Yonder ! " cried St. Yrain, '' fresh 
 hump for supper ! "
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 37 
 
 We looked north-west, as indicated by our 
 friend. Along the escarpment of a low table, 
 five dark objects broke the line of thehorizon. 
 A glance was enough — they were buffaloes. 
 As St. Yrain spoke, we were about slip- 
 ping off our saddles. Back went the girth 
 buckles with a " sneck" — down came the 
 stirrups, — up went we, and off in the 
 " twinkling of a goat's eye." 
 ^ Half a score or so started — some, like 
 myself, for the sport — while others — old 
 hunters — had the " meat" in their eye. 
 
 We had made but a short day's march ; 
 our horses were still fresh ; and, in three 
 times as many minutes, the three miles that 
 lay between us and the game were reduced 
 to one . Here however we were " winded." 
 Some of the party, like myself green upon 
 the prairies, disregarding advice, had ridden 
 straight a-head ; and the bulls snuffed 
 us on the wind. AYhen within a mile, one 
 of them threw up his shaggy front; snorted,
 
 38 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 struck the ground with his hoof, rolled 
 over, rose up again, and dashed off at full 
 speed, followed by his four companions. 
 
 It remained to us now either to abandon 
 the chase, or put our horses to their mettle, 
 and " catch up." The latter course was 
 adopted ; and we galloped forward. All at 
 once we found ourselves riding up to, what 
 appeared to be, a clay wall six feet high. 
 It was a stair between two tables ; and ran 
 right and left, as far as the eye could reach, 
 without the semblance of a gap ! 
 
 This was an obstacle that caused us to 
 rein up, and reflect. Some wheeled their 
 horses, and commenced riding back ; while 
 half-a-dozen of us, better mounted — among 
 whom were St. Yrain, and my voyageur 
 Gode — not wishing to give up the chase so 
 easily, put to the spur, and cleared the 
 scarp. 
 
 From this point it cost us a ^ve miles' 
 gallop, and our horses a white sweat, to
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 89 
 
 come up with the hindmost — a young cow — 
 who fell, bored by a bullet from every rifle 
 in the party. 
 
 As the others had gained some distance 
 a-head, and we had meat enough for 
 all, we reined up; and dismounting, set 
 about " removing the hair." This opera- 
 tion was a short one under the skilful 
 knives of the hunters. We had now leisure 
 to look back, and calculate the distance we 
 had ridden from camp. 
 
 " Eight miles, every inch ! '* cried one. 
 
 " We're close to the trail,'* said St. Yrain, 
 pointing to some old wagon tracks that 
 marked the route of the Santa Fe traders. 
 
 "WeU?" 
 
 " If we ride into camp, we shall have to 
 ride back in the morning. It will be six- 
 teen extra miles for our cattle." 
 
 " True." 
 
 *' Let us stay here then. Here's water and 
 grass. There's buffalo meat ; and yonder's
 
 40 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 a wagon load of " chips." We have our. 
 blankets — what more do we want? " 
 
 " I say camp where we are ?" 
 
 ''And I." 
 
 "And I." 
 
 In a minute, the girth buckles flew 
 open, our saddles were lifted off, and our 
 panting horses were cropping the curly 
 bunches of the prairie grass, within the 
 circles of their cahiestoes, 
 
 A crystal rivulet — the " arroyo " of the 
 Spaniards — stole away southward to the 
 Arkansas. On the bank of this rivulet, and 
 under one of its bluffs, we chose a spot for 
 our bivouack. The hois de vache ^^was col- 
 lected — a fire was kindled — and "hump 
 steaks" spitted on sticks, were soon sput- 
 tering in the blaze. Luckily St. Vrain and 
 I hnd our flasks along ; and as each of them 
 contained a pint of pure Cognac, we man- 
 aged to make a tolerable supper. The old 
 hunters had their pipes and tobacco ; my
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 41 
 
 friend and I our cigars ; and we sat round 
 the ashes to a late hour, smoking, and lis- 
 tening to wild tales of mountain adventure. 
 
 At length the watch was told off — the 
 lariats were shortened — the picket-pins 
 driven home — and my comrades, rolling 
 themselves up in their blankets, rested their 
 heads in the hollow of their saddles, and 
 went to sleep. 
 
 There was a man named Hibbets in our 
 party, who from his habits of somnolency, 
 had earned the sobriquet of Sleepyhead." 
 For this reason, the first watch had been 
 assigned to him, being the least dangerous 
 — as Indians seldom make their attacks 
 until the hour of soundest sleep, that before 
 daybreak. 
 
 Hibbets had climbed to his post — the top 
 of the bluff — where he could command a 
 view of the surrounding prairie. 
 
 Before night had set in, I had noticed a 
 very beautiful spot on the bank of the
 
 42 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 arroyo, about two hundred yards from 
 where my comrades lay. A sudden fancy 
 came into my head to sleep there ; and taking 
 up my rifle, robe, and blanket — at the same 
 time calling to " Sleepyhead " to wake me 
 in case of alarm — I proceeded thither. 
 
 The ground, shelving gradually down to 
 the arroyo, was covered with soft buffalo 
 grass — thick and dry — as good a bed as was 
 ever pressed by sleepy mortal. On this I 
 spread my robe ; and, folding my blanket, 
 around me, lay down — cigar in mouth — . 
 to smoke myself asleep. 
 
 It was a lovely moonlight — so clear that 
 I could easily distinguish the colours of the 
 prairie flowers — the silver euphorbias — the 
 golden sunflowers, and the scarlet malvas — 
 that fringed the banks of the arroyo at my 
 feet. There was an enchanting stillness in the 
 air, broken only by an occasional whine from 
 the prairie wolf, the distant snoring of my 
 companions, and the ''crop-crop" of our 
 horses, shortening the crisp grass.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 43 
 
 I lay a good while awake, until my cigar 
 burnt up to my lips — we smoke them close 
 on the prairies — then, spitting out the 
 stump, I turned over on my side, and was 
 soon in the land of dreams. 
 
 I could not have been asleep many minutes, 
 when I felt sensible of a strange noise, like 
 distant thunder, or the roaring of a water- 
 fall. The ground seemed to tremble beneath 
 me ! 
 
 " We are going to have a dash of a thun- 
 der-shower," thought I, still half dreaming, 
 half sensible to impressions from without ; 
 and I drew the folds of my blanket closer 
 about me, and again slept. 
 
 I was awakened by a noise like thunder 
 indeed — like the trampling of a thousand 
 hoofs, and the lowing of a thousand oxen ! 
 The earth echoed, and trembled. I could 
 hear the shouts of my comrades — the voices 
 of St. Vrain and Gode, the latter calling 
 out —
 
 44 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 '''' Sacr-r-re ! Monsieur; garde les huffles T 
 
 I saw that they had drawn the horses; 
 and were hurrying them under the bluff. 
 
 I sprang to my feet, flinging aside my 
 blanket. A fearful spectacle was before me . 
 Away to the west, as far as the eye could 
 reach, the prairie seemed in motion. Black 
 waves rolled over its undulating outlines, as 
 though some burning mountain was pouring 
 down its lava upon the plains. A thousand 
 bright spots flashed and flitted along the 
 moving surface like jets of fire. The ground 
 shook — men shouted — horses reared upon 
 their ropes, neighing wildly. My dog barked 
 and howled, running around me ! 
 
 For a moment I thought I was dreaming ; 
 but no the scene was too real to be mistaken 
 for a vision. I saw the border of the black 
 wave within ten paces of me, and still 
 approaching! Then, and not till then, did 
 I recognise the shaggy crests and glaring 
 eyeballs of the buffalo !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 45 
 
 " God of heaven ! I am in their track. 
 I will be trampled to death !" 
 
 It was too late to attempt an escape by 
 running. I seized my rifle, and fired at. the 
 foremost of the band. The effect of ray shot 
 was not perceptible. The water of the 
 arroyo was dashed in my face. A huge 
 bull, ahead of the rest — furious and snorting 
 — plunged through the stream, and up the 
 slope. I was lifted and tossed high into the 
 air. I was thrown rearwards, and fell upon 
 a moving mass. I did not feel hurt nor 
 stunned. I felt myself carried onward upon 
 the backs of several animals, that, in the 
 dense drove, ran close together. These, 
 frightened at their strange burden, bellowed 
 loudly, and dashed on to the front. A sudden 
 thought struck me ; and, fixing on that 
 which was most under me, I dropped my 
 legs astride of him, embracing his hump, 
 and clutching the long woolly hair that grew 
 upon his neck. The animal " routed" mth
 
 46 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 extreme terror ; and plunging forward, soon 
 headed the hand ! 
 
 This was exactly what I wanted ; and on 
 we went over the prairie — the bull running 
 at top speed — believing, no doubt, that he 
 had a panther or a catamount between his 
 shoulders ! 
 
 I had no desire to disabuse him of this be- 
 lief; and — lest he should deem me altogether 
 harmless, and come to a halt — I slipped 
 out my bowie — which happened to be 
 "handy" — and pricked him up, whenever 
 he showed symptoms of lagging. At every 
 fresh touch of the " spur," he roared out, 
 and ran forward at a redoubled pace. 
 
 My danger was still extreme. The drove 
 was coming on behind with a front of nearly 
 a mile ! I could not have cleared it, had the 
 bull stopped, and left me on the prairie. 
 
 Notwithstanding the peril I was in, I 
 could not resist laughing at my ludicrous 
 situation. I felt, as one does, when looking 
 at a good comedy.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 47 
 
 We struck through a village of " prairie 
 doci:s." Here I fancied the animal was about 
 to turn and run back. This brought my 
 mirth to a sudden pause ; but the buffalo 
 usually runs in a "bee line," and fortunately 
 mine made no exception to the law. On he 
 went, sinking to the knees, kicking the dust 
 from the conical hills ; snorting and bellow- 
 ing with rage and terror. 
 
 The " Plum buttes" were directly in the 
 line of our course. I had seen this from the 
 start ; and knew that if I could reach them, 
 I would be safe. They were nearly three 
 miles from the bluff where we had bivouacked ; 
 but, in my ride, I fancied them ten ! 
 
 A small one rose over the prairie, several 
 hundred yards nearer than the main heights. 
 Towards this I pricked the foaming bull in 
 a last stretch ; and he brought me cleverly 
 within a hundred yards of its base. 
 
 It was now time to take leave of my dusky 
 companion. I could have slaughtered him,
 
 48 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 as I leaned over his back. My knife rested 
 upon the most vulnerable part of his huge 
 body. No ! I would not have slain that 
 buffalo for the Koh-i-noor. 
 
 Untwisting my fingers from his thick 
 fleece, I slipped down over his tail, and, 
 without as much as saying " Good night," 
 ran with all my speed towards the knoll. I 
 climbed up; and, sitting down upon a loose 
 boulder of rock, looked out over the prairie. 
 
 The moon was still shining brightly. My 
 late companion had halted — ^not far from 
 where I had left him — and stood glaring 
 back, with a look of extreme bewilderment ! 
 There was something so comical in the sight, 
 that I yelled with laughter, as I sat securely 
 on my perch. 
 
 I looked to the south-west. As far as the 
 eye could see, the prairie was black and 
 moving. The living wave came rolling 
 onward and toward me ; but I could now 
 observe it in safety. The myriads of glancing
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 49 
 
 eyes, sparkling like phosphoric gleams, no 
 longer flashed terror. 
 
 The drove was still half a mile distant. 
 I thought I saw quick gleams, and heard the 
 report of fire-arms away over its left border ; 
 but I could not be certain. I had begun to 
 think of the fate of my comrades ; and this 
 gave me hopes that they were safe. 
 
 The bufi'aloes approached the butte on 
 which I was seated ; and, perceiving the ob- 
 stacle, suddenly forked into two great belts, 
 and swept right and left around it. What 
 struck me at this moment as curious was, that 
 mi/ bull — my particular bull — instead of wait- 
 ing till his comrades had come up, and falling in 
 among the foremost — suddenly tossed up his 
 head, and galloped ofi", as if a pack of wolves 
 had been after him ! He ran towards the 
 outside of the band. When he had reached 
 a point that placed him fairly beyond the 
 flank, I could see him closing in, and moving 
 on with the rest. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 This strange tactic of my late companion 
 puzzled me at the time, but I afterwards 
 learned that it was sound strategy on his 
 part. Had he remained where I had parted 
 with him, the foremost bulls coming up 
 would have mistaken him for an individual 
 of some other tribe, and would certainly 
 have gored him to death ! 
 
 I sat upon the rock for nearly two hours, 
 silently watching the sable stream as it 
 poured past. I was on an island in the 
 midst of a black and glittering sea. Atone 
 time I fancied I was moving, that the butte 
 was sailing onward, and the buffaloes were 
 standing still ! My head swam with dizzi- 
 ness, and I leaped to my feet to drive away 
 the strange illusion. 
 
 The torrent rolled onward; and at length 
 the hindmost went straggling past. I de- 
 scended from the knoll; and commenced 
 groping my way over the black, trodden 
 earth. What was lately a green sward, now
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 51 
 
 presented the aspect of ground freshly 
 ploughed, and trampled by droves of oxen ! 
 
 A number of white animals, resembling a 
 flock of sheep, passed near me. They were 
 wolves hanging upon the skirts of the herd. 
 
 I spurred on, keeping to the southward. 
 At length I heard voices ; and, in the clear 
 moonlight, could see several horsemen gal- 
 loping in circles over the plain. I shouted 
 "Halloa!" A voice answered mine ; and 
 one of the horsemen came galloping up ; 
 it was St. Yrain. 
 
 " Why, Lord bless me, Haller ! " cried he, 
 reining up, and bending from his saddle to 
 get a better view of me, " is it you or your 
 ghost ? As I sit here, it's the man himself, 
 and alive!" 
 
 " Never in better condition," I replied. 
 
 "But where did you come from? the 
 clouds? the sky? Where?" And his ques- 
 tion was echoed by the others, who at this 
 moment were shaking me by the hand, as 
 
 d2 
 
 Ss,^oMamo«
 
 52 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 if they had not seen me for a twelvemonth ! 
 
 Gode seemed to be the most perplexed man 
 of the party. 
 
 '^ Mo7i Dieiil run over — tramp by von 
 million dam buffles, et pas mort ! Cr-r-re 
 matin ! " 
 
 " We were hunting for your body, or 
 rather the fragments of it," said St. Yrain. 
 '' We had searched every foot of the prairie 
 for a mile round ; and had almost come to 
 the conclusion that the fierce brutes had 
 eaten you up." 
 
 " Eat monsieur up ! No ! tre million 
 buffles no him eat. Mon Dieu ! Ha Sleep- 
 head, pe dam!" 
 
 This exclamation of the Canadian was ad- 
 dressed to Hibbets, w^ho had failed to warn 
 my comrades of where I lay, and thus 
 placed me in such a dangerous predicament. 
 
 " We saw you tossed in the air," continued 
 St. Yrain, " and fall right into the thick of 
 them. Then, of course, we gave you up.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 53 
 
 But how, in God's name, have you got 
 clear ?" 
 
 I related my adventure to my wondering 
 comrades. 
 
 " Par Dieu^'^ cried Gode, " un garcon tre 
 bizarre — une aventure tre merveilleuse T' 
 
 From that hour I was looked upon as a 
 ^' Captain" on the prairies. 
 
 My comrades had made good work of it, 
 as a dozen dark objects that lay upon the 
 plain testified. They had found my rifle 
 and blankets — the latter trodden into the 
 earth. 
 
 St. Vrain had still a few drops in his 
 flask ; and after swallowing these, and again 
 placing the guard, we returned to our 
 prairie couches, and slept out the night.
 
 54 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN A BAD "fix." 
 
 A FEW days afterwards, another " adven- 
 ture " befel me ; and I began to think that 
 I was destined to become a hero among the 
 "mountain men." 
 
 A small party of the traders — myself 
 among the number — had pushed forward 
 a-head of the caravan. Our object was to 
 arrive at Santa Fe, a day or two before the 
 wagons, in order to have everything arranged 
 with the governor for their entrance into that 
 capital. We took the route by the Cimmaron.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 55 
 
 Our road, for a hundred miles or so, 
 lay through a barren desert, T^dthout game, 
 and almost without water. The buffalo had 
 already disappeared, and deer were equally 
 scarce. We had to content ourselves on the 
 dried meat which we had brought from the 
 settlements. We were in the deserts of the 
 Artemisia. Now and then we could see a 
 stray antelope bounding away before us, 
 but keeping far out of range. They too 
 seemed to be unusually shy. 
 
 On the third day after leaving the cara- 
 van, as we were riding near the Cimmaron, 
 I thought I observed a pronged head dis- 
 appearing behind a swell in the prairie. 
 My companions were sceptical, and would 
 none of them go with me ; so, wheeling out 
 of the trail, I started alone. One of the 
 men — for Gode was behind — kept charge of 
 my dog, as I did not choose to take him 
 with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. 
 My horse was fresh and willing ; and whether
 
 56 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 successful or not, I knew that I could easily 
 overtake the party by camping time. 
 
 I struck directly towards the spot where 
 I had seen the object. It appeared to be 
 only half a mile or so from the trail. It 
 proved more distant— a common illusion in 
 the crystal atmosphere of these upland re- 
 gions. 
 
 A curiously-formed ridge — a couteau des 
 prairies^ on a small scale — traversed the 
 plain from east to west. A thicket of 
 cactus covered part of its summit. Towards 
 this thicket I directed myself. 
 
 I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, 
 and leading my horse silently up among 
 the cacti plants, tied him to one of their 
 branches. I then crept cautiously through 
 the thorny leaves, towards the point where I 
 fancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not 
 one antelope, but a brace of those beautiful 
 animals, was quietly grazing beyond ; but 
 alas ! too far off for the carry of my rifle.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 57 
 
 They were fully three hundred yards dis- 
 tant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There 
 was not even a sage bush to cover me, 
 should I attempt to "approach" them. 
 What was to be done ? 
 
 I lay for several minutes, thinking over 
 the different tricks known in hunter-craft 
 for taking the antelope. Should I imitate 
 their call? Should I hoist my handkerchief, 
 and try to lure them up? I saw that they 
 were too shy; for, at short intervals, they 
 threw up their graceful heads, and looked 
 inquiringly around them. I remembered 
 the red blanket on my saddle. I could dis- 
 play this upon the cactus bushes — perhaps 
 it would attract them. 
 
 I had no alternative ; and was turning 
 to go back for the blanket; when, all at once, 
 my eye rested upon a clay- coloured line 
 running across the prairie, beyond where 
 the animals were feeding. It was a break 
 in the surface of the plain — a buffalo road^ 
 
 d3
 
 58 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 or the channel of an arroyo — in either case 
 the very cover I wanted — for the animals 
 were not a hundred yards from it ; and were 
 getting still nearer to it as they fed. 
 
 Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran 
 along the side of the slope toward a point, 
 where I had noticed that the ridge was 
 depressed to the prairie level. Here, to my 
 surprise, I found myself on the banks of a 
 broad arroyo, whose water — clear and shal- 
 low — ran slowly over a bed of sand and 
 gypsum. 
 
 The banks were low — not over three feet 
 above the surface of the water — except 
 where the ridge impinged upon the stream. 
 Here there was a high bluff ; and, hurrying 
 around its base, I entered the channel ; and 
 commenced wading upward. 
 
 As I had anticipated, I soon came to a 
 bend, where the stream, after running pa- 
 rallel to the ridge, swept round and canoned 
 through it. At this place I stopped ; and
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 59 
 
 looked cautiously over the bank. The ante- 
 lopes had approached within less than rifle 
 range of the arroyo ; but they were yet far 
 above my position. They were still quietly 
 feedino: and unconscious of dano:er. I as^ain 
 bent do^^Ti, and waded on. 
 
 It was a difficult task proceeding in this 
 way. The bed of the creek was soft and 
 yielding, and I was compelled to tread 
 slowly and silently, lest I should alarm the 
 game; but I was cheered in my exertions 
 by the prospect of fresh venison for my 
 supper. 
 
 After a weary drag of several hundred 
 yards, I came opposite to a small clump of 
 wormwood bushes, growing out of the bank. 
 '' I may be high enough," thought I, " these 
 will serve for cover." 
 
 I raised my body gradually, until I could 
 see through the leaves. I was in the right 
 spot. 
 
 I brought my rifle to a level; sighted for
 
 60 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 the heart of the buck ; and fired. The ani- 
 mal leaped from the ground; and fell back 
 lifeless. 
 
 I was about to rush forward, and secure 
 my prize, when I observed the doe — instead 
 of running off as I had expected — go up to 
 her fallen partner, and press her tapering 
 nose to his body. She was not more than 
 twenty yards from me ; and I could plainly 
 see that her look was one of inquiry, and 
 bewilderment ! All at once, she seemed to 
 comprehend the fatal truth ; and throwing 
 back her head, commenced uttering the most 
 piteous cries — at the same time running in 
 circles around the body ! 
 
 I stood wavering between two minds. My 
 first impulse had been to reload, and kill the 
 doe; but her plaintive voice entered my 
 heart, disarming me of all hostile intentions. 
 Plad I dreamt of witnessing this painful 
 spectacle, I should not have left the trail.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 61 
 
 But the mischief was now done. " I have 
 worse than killed her," thought I, "it will 
 be better to despatch her at once." 
 
 Actuated by these principles of a common, 
 but to her fatal, humanity, I rested the butt 
 of my rifle, and reloaded. With a falter- 
 ing hand, I again levelled the piece, and 
 fired. 
 
 My nerves were steady enough to do 
 the work. When the smoke floated aside, 
 I could see the little creature bleeding upon 
 the grass — her head resting against the body 
 of her murdered mate ! 
 
 I shouldered my rifle; and was about to 
 move forward, when, to my astonishment, I 
 found that I was caught by the feet ! I was 
 held firml}^, as if my legs had been screwed 
 in a vice ! 
 
 I made an effort to extricate myself — 
 another, more violent, and equally unsuccess- 
 ful — and, with a third, I lost my balance, 
 and fell back upon the water !
 
 62 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 Half suffocated, I regained my upright 
 position ; but only to find that I was held 
 as fast as ever ! 
 
 Again I struggled to free my limbs. I 
 could neither move them backward nor for- 
 ward — to the right nor the left ; and I became 
 sensible that I was gradually going down. 
 Then the fearful truth flashed upon me, — 
 / was sinking in a quicksand I 
 
 A feeling of horror came over me. I re- 
 newed my efforts with the energy of des- 
 peration. I leant to one side, then to the 
 other, almost wrenching my knees from 
 their sockets. My feet remained fast as ever. 
 I could not move them an inch ! 
 
 The soft clingy sand already overtopped 
 my horse-skin boots, wedging them around 
 my ankles, so that I was unable to draw 
 them off; and I could feel that I was still 
 sinking, slowly but surely, as though some 
 subterraneous monster were leisurely drag- 
 ging me down ! This very thought caused 
 me a fresh thrill of horror ; and I called
 
 THE SCALP-HU^^TERS. 63 
 
 aloud for help ! To whom ? There was no 
 one within miles of me — no living thing. 
 Yes ! the neigh of my horse answered me 
 from the hiU, mocking my despair! 
 
 I bent forward, as well as my constrained 
 position would permit ; and, with frenzied 
 fingers, commenced tearing up the sand. 
 I could barely reach the surface ; and the 
 little hollow, I was able to make, filled up 
 almost as soon as it had been formed ! 
 
 A thought occurred to me. My rifle 
 might support me, placed horizontally. I 
 looked around for it. It was not to be 
 seen. It had sunk beneath the sand ! 
 
 Could I throw my body flat, and prevent 
 myself from sinking deeper ? No. The 
 water was two feet in depth. I should 
 drown at once ! 
 
 This last hope left me as soon as formed. 
 1 could think of no plan to save myself. I 
 could make no further eflbrt. A strano^e 
 stupor seized upon me. My very thoughts
 
 64 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 became paralysed. I knew that I was 
 going mad. For a moment / was mad ! 
 
 After an interval, my senses returned. 
 I made an effort to rouse my mind from 
 its paralysis, in order that I might meet 
 death — which I now believed to be certain 
 — as a man should. 
 
 I stood erect. My eyes had sunk to the 
 prairie level, and rested upon the still 
 bleeding victims of my cruelty. My heart 
 smote me at the sight. Was I suffering a 
 retribution of God ? 
 
 With humbled and penitent thoughts, I 
 turned my face to heaven, almost dreading 
 that some sign of omnipotent anger would 
 scowl upon me from above. But no. The 
 sun was shining as bright as ever ; and the 
 blue canopy of the world was without a 
 cloud. 
 
 I gazed upward, and prayed, with an 
 earnestness known only to the hearts of 
 men in positions of peril like mine.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 65 
 
 As I continued to look up, an object at- 
 tracted my attention. Against the sky, I 
 distino-uished the outhnes of a laro-e dark 
 bird. I knew it to be the obscene bird of 
 the plains — the buzzard vulture. Whence 
 had it come ? Who knows? Far beyond 
 the reach of human eye, it had seen, or 
 scented, the slaughtered antelopes ; and, on 
 broad silent wing, was now descending to 
 the feast of death. 
 
 Presently another, and another, and 
 many others, mottled the blue field of the 
 heavens, curving and wheeling silently 
 earthward. Then, the foremost swooped 
 down upon the bank ; and, after gazing 
 around for a moment, flapped off towards 
 its prey. 
 
 In a few seconds the prairie was black 
 with filthy birds, who clambered over 
 the dead antelopes ; and beat their wings 
 against each other, while they tore out 
 the eyes of the quarry with their fetid beaks.
 
 66 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 And now came gaunt wolves — sneak- 
 ing and hungry — stealing out of the 
 cactus thicket ; and loping, coward-like, 
 over the green swells of the prairie. These, 
 after a battle, drove away the vultures; 
 and tore up the prey — all the while 
 growling and snapping vengefully at each 
 other. 
 
 " Thank heaven ! 1 shall at least be saved 
 from this!" 
 
 I was soon relieved from the sight. 
 My eyes had sunk below the level of the 
 bank. I had looked my last on the fair 
 green earth. I could now see only the 
 clayey walls that contained the river, and 
 the water that ran unheeding past me. 
 
 Once more I fixed my gaze upon the 
 sky ; and, with prayerful heart, endeavoured 
 to resign myself to my fate. 
 
 In spite of my endeavours to be calm, the 
 memories of earthly pleasures, and friends, 
 and home, came over me — causing me, at
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 67 
 
 intervals, to break into wild paroxysms, and 
 make fresh though fruitless struggles. 
 
 Again I was attracted by the neighing 
 of my horse. 
 
 A thought entered my mind, filling me with 
 fresh hopes. " Perhaps my horse " 
 
 I lost not a moment. I raised my voice to 
 its highest pitch; and called the animal by 
 name. I knew that he would come at my call. 
 I had tied him but slightly. The cactus limb 
 would snap off. I called again, repeating 
 words that were well known to him. I lis- 
 tened with a bounding heart. For a moment 
 there was silence. Then I heard the quick 
 sounds of his hoof, as though the animal was 
 rearing and struggling to free himself. Then 
 I could distinguish the stroke of his heels, 
 in a measured and regular gallop ! 
 
 Nearer came the sounds — nearer and 
 clearer, until the gallant brute bounded out 
 on the bank above me. There he halted, 
 and flinging back his tossed mane, uttered
 
 68 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and 
 looked upon every side, snorting loudly ! 
 
 I knew that, having once seen me, he 
 w^ould not stop until he had pressed his nose 
 against my cheek — for this was his usual 
 custom. Holding out my hands, I again 
 uttered the magic words. 
 
 Now looking downward he perceived me ; 
 and, stretching himself, sprang out into the 
 channel. The next moment I held him by 
 the bridle ! 
 
 There was no time to be lost. I was still 
 going dow^n; and my armpits w^ere fast 
 nearing the surface of the quicksand. 
 
 I caught the lariat; and, passing it 
 under the saddle-girths fastened it in a tight 
 firm knot. I then looped the trailing end, 
 making it secure around my body. I had 
 left enough of the rope, between the bit ring 
 and the girths, to enable me to check and 
 guide the animal — in case the drag upon my 
 body should be too painful.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 69 
 
 All this Tvhile the dumb brute seemed to 
 comprehend what I was about. He knew 
 too the nature of the ground on which he 
 stood ; for, during the operation, he kept lift- 
 ing his feet alternately to prevent himself 
 from sinking! 
 
 My arrangements were at length com- 
 pleted ; and, with a feehng of terrible anxiety, 
 I gave my horse the signal to move forward. 
 Instead of going off with a start, the intelli- 
 gent animal stepped away slowly, as though 
 he understood my situation! The lariat 
 tightened — I felt my body moving, and, the 
 next moment, experienced a Avild delight 
 — a feeling I cannot describe — as I found 
 myself dragged out of the sand ! 
 
 I sprang to my feet with a shout of joy. 
 I rushed up to my steed; and, throwing my 
 arms around his neck, kissed him with as 
 much delight as I would have kissed a beau- 
 tiful girl. He answered my embrace with
 
 70 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 a low wliimper, that told me I was under- 
 stood ! 
 
 1 looked for my rifle. Fortunately it had 
 not sunk deeply, and I soon found it. My 
 boots were behind me, but I stayed not to 
 look for them — being smitten with a whole- 
 some dread of the place where I had left 
 them. 
 
 I was not long in retreating from the 
 arroyo; and, mounting, I galloped back to 
 the trail. 
 
 It was sundown, before I reached camp; 
 where I was met by the inquiries of my won- 
 dering companions. " Did you come across 
 the 'goats?'" " Where's your boots?" 
 " Whether have you been hunting or fish- 
 ing?" 
 
 I answered all these questions, by relating 
 my adventures; and, for that night, I was 
 again the hero of the camp fire.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 71 
 
 CHAPTER yj. 
 
 SANTA FE. 
 
 After a week's climbing through the 
 Rocky Mountains, we descended into the 
 Valley of the Del Norte; and arrived at the 
 capital of New Mexico — the far-famed 
 Santa Fe. Next day the caravan itself came 
 in — for we had lost time on the southern 
 route ; and the wagons, travelling by the 
 Raton Pass, had made a good journey of it. 
 
 We had no difficulty about their en- 
 trance into the country, with the proviso 
 that we paid five hundred dollars of Alcavala
 
 72 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 tax, upon each wagon. This was a greater 
 extortion than usual ; but the traders were 
 compelled to accept the impost. 
 
 Santa Fe is the entrepot of the province, 
 and the chief seat of its trade. On reaching 
 it, we halted, " camping" without the walls. 
 
 St. Vrain, several other proprietaires, and 
 myself, took up our quarters at the Fonda ; 
 where we endeavoured — by means of the 
 sparkling vintage of El Paso — to make our- 
 selves oblivious of the hardships we had en- 
 dured in the passage of the plains. 
 
 The night of our arrival was given to 
 feasting and making merry. 
 
 Next morning I was awakened by the 
 voice of my man Gode — who appeared to be 
 in high spirits — singing a snatch of a 
 Canadian boat song. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur ! " cried he, seeing me 
 awake, "to-night — adjourdhui — une grand 
 fonction — one bal — vat le dam Mexicaine 
 he call fandango. Tre bien, monsieur. You
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 73 
 
 vill sure have grand plaisir to see un fan- 
 dango Mexicaine? " 
 
 " Not I, Gode ; my countrymen are not 
 so fond of dancing as yours." 
 
 ** C'est vrai, Monsieur; but von fandango 
 is tres curieux. You sail see ver many sort 
 of de pas. Bolero, et valse, wis de Coona, and 
 ver many more pas, all mix up in von 
 puchero. Allons ! monsieur, you vill see 
 ver many pretty girl, avec les yeux tre noir, 
 and ver short — ah, pe Gar ! ver short — vat 
 you call em in Americaine ? " 
 
 " 1 do not know what you allude to." 
 
 *'Cela! Zis, Monsieur," holding out the 
 skirt .of his hunting shirt, '' Par Dieu ! now 
 I have him — petticoes, ver short petticoes. 
 Ah, pe Gar! you sail see vat you sail see 
 en un fandang Mexicaine." 
 
 " Las niiias de Durango 
 Conmigo bailandas, 
 Al cielo saltandas, 
 En el fandango — en el fan-dang — o." 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE SCALP-HUKTERS. 
 
 " Ha ! here come Monsieur St. Yrain. 
 Ecoutez ! He nevare not go to fandango. 
 Sacre ! how Monsieur dance ! like un maitre 
 de ballet. Mais he be de sangre — blood Fran- 
 cais. Ecoutez ! " 
 
 ' * Al cielo saltandas. 
 
 En el fandango — en el fan-dang — " 
 ^^HalGode!" 
 " Monsieur?" 
 
 " Trot over to the Cantina^ and beg, bor- 
 row, buy, or steal a bottle of the best Paso." 
 " Sail I try steal 'im. Monsieur St. Yrain?" 
 inquired God6, with a knowing grin. 
 
 '' No, you old Canadian thief! pay for it. 
 There's the money. Best Paso, do you 
 hear? cool and sparkling. Now, Yaya i 
 Bon jour, my bold rider of buifalo bulls ! 
 Still abed, I see." 
 
 '' My head aches as if it would split." 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! so does mine ; but Code's 
 gone for medicine. Hair of the dog good 
 for the bite ; come, jump up !"
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 75 
 
 " Wait till I get a dose of your medicine." 
 " True ; you'll feel better then. I say — 
 city life don't agree with us, eh ? " 
 " You call this a city, do you? " 
 "Ay, so it is styled in these parts— /<7 
 ciudad de Santa Fe — the famous city of Santa 
 Fe — the capital of Nuevo Mexico — the me- 
 tropolis of all prairiedom — the paradise of 
 traders, trappers, and thieves!" 
 
 "And this is the progress of 300 years! 
 Why these people have hardly passed the 
 first stages of civilization ? " 
 
 " Rather say they are passing the last 
 stages of it. Here in this far oasis, you will 
 find painting, poetry, dancing, theatres, 
 and music — fetes and fireworks, with all the 
 little amorous arts that characterize a nation's 
 decline. You will meet with numerous 
 Don Quixotes — soi disant\img\\t^ errant — 
 Romeos without the heart, and ruffians 
 without the courage. You will meet with 
 
 E 2
 
 76 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 many things, before you encounter either 
 virtue or honesty. Hola ! muchacho ! " 
 
 ^' Que es, Seilor ?" 
 
 ''Hay cafe?" 
 
 " Si, Sefior." 
 
 " Bring us a couple of tazas then — dos 
 tazas, do you hear ? and quick — aprisa ! 
 aprisaf " 
 
 " Si, Seilor." 
 
 "Ha! here comes le voyageur Cana- 
 dienne. So, old Nor- west ! you've brought 
 the wine? 
 
 " Vin delicieuse, Monsieur St. Yrain ! 
 equal to ze vintage Fran9ais." 
 
 ''He is right, Haller — Tsap — tsap — deli- 
 cious you may say, good Gode. Tsap — tsap. 
 Come drink ! It'll make you feel as strong 
 as a buffalo. See ! it seethes like a soda 
 spring ! like Fontaine- que-bouille — eh, Gode ?" 
 " Oui, Monsieur ; ver like Fontaine-que- 
 bouille. Pe Gar, oui." 
 
 " Drink, man, drink ! don't fear it — it's the
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 77 
 
 pure juice. Smell the flavour — taste the 
 bouquet. Lord! what wine the Yankees 
 will one day squeeze out of these New 
 Mexican grapes !" 
 
 "Why? do you think the Yankees have 
 an eye to this quarter?" 
 
 " Think ! I know it ; and why not. What 
 use are these minikins in creation? Only 
 to cumber the earth. Well, mozo? you 
 have brought the coffee ?" 
 
 " Ya esta, Seiior." 
 
 "Here! try some of this — it will help 
 to set you on your feet. They can make 
 cofiee, and no mistake. It takes a Spaniard 
 to do that." 
 
 " What is this fandango, Gode has been 
 telling me about?" 
 
 "Ah! true. We are to have a famous 
 one to-nidit. You'll o'o of course?" 
 
 " Out of curiosity." 
 
 "Very well — you will have your curiosity 
 gratified. The blustering old grampus of a
 
 78 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 governor is to honour the ball with his pre- 
 sence ; and it is said his pretty seiiora ; that 
 I don't believe." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He's too much afraid lest one of these 
 wild Americanos may whip her off on the 
 can tie of his saddle. Such things have been 
 done, in this very valley. By St. Mary ! 
 she is good looking," continued St. Yrain, 
 in a half soliloquy, " and I knew a man — 
 the cursed old tyrant ! only think of it !" 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 " The way he has bled us. Five hundred 
 dollars a wagon, and a hundred of them at 
 that— in all 50,000 dollars !" 
 
 " But will he pocket all this? will not the 
 government ?'^ 
 
 " Government! no, every cent of it. He 
 is the government here ; and, with the help 
 of this instalment, he will rule these mise- 
 rable wretches with an iron rod. Poor de- 
 vils!"
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 79 
 
 ^' And yet they hate hhn, do they not?" 
 
 " Him and his. God knows they have 
 reason." 
 
 '' It is strange they do not rebel?" 
 
 " They have at times ; but what can the 
 poor devils do? Like all true tyrants, he 
 has divided them ; and makes them spend 
 their heart's hatred on one another." 
 
 *' But he seems not to have a very large 
 army ; no body-guard — " 
 
 " Body-guard !" cried St. Yrain, inter- 
 rupting me, "look out! there's his body- 
 guard !" 
 
 '^ Indios bravos f les Navajoes!^^ ex- 
 claimed Gode, at the same instant. 
 
 I looked forth into the street. Half-a- 
 dozen tall savages, wrapped in striped ,^e- 
 rapes^ were passing. Their wild hungry 
 looks, and slow proud walk at once distin- 
 guished them from the Indios manzos — the 
 water-drawing, wood-hewing Pueblos. 
 
 " Are they Navajoes?" I asked.
 
 80 THE SCALP-Hms^TERS. 
 
 '' Qui, Monsieur ! oui 1" replied Gode, ap- 
 parently with some excitement. " Sacre 
 Dieu ! Navajoes — tre dam Xavajoes !" 
 
 " There's no mistaking them^'' added St. 
 Yrain. 
 
 ^ " But the Navajoes are the notorious 
 enemies of the New Mexicans! How come 
 they to be here? — Prisoners?" 
 
 " Do they look like prisoners?" 
 
 They certainly showed no signs of capti- 
 vity in either look or gesture. They strode 
 proudly up the street — occasionally glancing 
 at the passers, with an air of savage and 
 lordly contempt. 
 
 " Why then are they here? Their country 
 lies far to the west ?" 
 
 " That is one of the secrets of Nuevo Mexico, 
 about which I will enlighten you some other 
 time. They are now protected by a treaty 
 of peace, — which is only binding upon thern^ 
 so long as it may suit their convenience to 
 recognise it. At present, they are as free
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 81 
 
 here as you or I, — indeed, more so, when it 
 comes to that. I wouldn't wonder if we 
 were to meet them at the fandango to- 
 night." 
 
 '* I have heard that the Navajoes are 
 cannibals?" 
 
 " It is true. Look at them this minute ! 
 See how tliey gloat upon that chubby little 
 fellow, who seems instinctively to fear them. 
 Lucky for the urchin it's broad daylight ; 
 or he might get chucked under one of those 
 striped blankets." 
 
 " Are you in earnest, St. Vrain?" 
 
 By my word, I am not jesting. If I 
 mistake not, Gode's experience will con- 
 firm what I have said. Eh, voyageur?" 
 
 *' C'est vrai, Monsieur. I vas prisioniere in 
 le nation — not Navagh, but le dam Apache 
 — moch the same — pour tree mons. I 
 have les sauvages seen manger — eat — one — 
 deux — tree — tree enfant s rotis, like hump 
 rib of de buffle. C'est vrai. Messieurs, c'est 
 vrai." 
 
 E 3
 
 82 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 
 
 ''It is quite true, — both Apaches and 
 Navajoes carry off children from the valley, 
 here, in their grand forays ; and it is said, by 
 those who should know, that most of them 
 are used in that way. Whether as a sacrifice 
 to the fiery god Quetzalcoatl, or whether 
 from a fondness for human flesh, no one has 
 yet been able to determine. In fact, with 
 all their propinquity to this place, there is 
 little known about them. Few, who have 
 visited th-eir towns, have had Gode's luck to 
 get away again. No man of these parts 
 ever ventures across the western Sierras." 
 
 " And how came you, Monsieur Gode, to 
 save your scalp?" 
 
 " Pourquoi, Monsieur, je'n'ai pas. I not 
 haves scalp-lock — vat de trappare Yankee 
 call ' har,' mon scalp-lock is fabrique of von 
 barbiere de Saint Luis. Yoila ! Monsieur." 
 
 So saying, the Canadian lifted his cap; 
 and along with it, what I had, up to this 
 time, looked upon as a beautiful curling
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 83 
 
 head of hair; but which now proved to be 
 only a wig ! 
 
 " Now, Messieurs!" cried he, in good 
 humour; " how les sauvages my scalp take? 
 Le dam Indienne no have cash -hold. 
 Sacr-r-r-el'^ 
 
 St. Yrain and I were unable to restrain 
 our laughter at the altered and comical 
 appearance of the Canadian. 
 
 *' Come Gode! the least you can do after that, 
 is to take a drink. Here, help yourself!" 
 
 " Tre oblige. Monsieur St. Vrain. Je 
 vous remerci." And the ever-thirsty voya- 
 geur quaffed off the nectar of El Paso, like 
 so much fresh milk. 
 
 " Come Haller ! We must to the wagons. 
 Business first, — then pleasure, such as we 
 may find here among these brick stacks. 
 But we'll have some fun in Chihuahua." 
 
 " And you think we shall go there?'' 
 
 " Certainly. They do not want the fourth 
 part of our stuff here. We must cany it on 
 to the head market. To the camp ! Allons !"
 
 84 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE FANDANGO. 
 
 In the evening I sat in my room waiting 
 for St. Yrain. His voice reached me from 
 wihout — 
 
 " Las niiias de Durango, 
 Conmigo bailandas, 
 Al cielo, Ha ! 
 
 Are you ready, my bold rider? " 
 *' Not quite. Sit down a minute, and 
 wait." 
 
 " Hurry then — the dancing's begun. I 
 have just come that way. What ! that your 
 ball dress? Ha-ha-ha !" screamed St. Vrain — 
 seeing me unpack a blue coat, and a pair of
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 85 
 
 dark pantaloons in a tolerable state of pre- 
 servation. 
 
 " Why, yes," replied I, looking up, '' what 
 fault do you find ? — but is that your ball 
 dress?" 
 
 No change had taken place in the ordin- 
 ary raiment of my friend. The fringed 
 hunting shirt and leggings, the belt, the 
 bowie, and the pistols were all before me ! 
 
 " Yes, my dandy ; this is my ball dress — 
 it aint any thing shorter ; and if you'll take 
 my advice, you'll wear what you have got 
 on your back. How will your long-tailed 
 blue look, with a broad belt and bowie 
 strapped round the skirts? Ha-ha-ha!" 
 
 " But why take either belt or bowie ? you 
 are surely not going into a ball-room with 
 your pistols in that fashion ?" 
 
 ^' And how else should I carry them? In 
 my hands?" 
 
 "Leave them here." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! that would be a green trick. 
 No, no. Once bit, twice shy. You don't
 
 86 THE , SCiU:>P-HUNTERS. 
 
 catch this coon going into any fandango in 
 Santa Fe, without his six-shooters. Come ! 
 keep on that shirt — let your leggins sweat 
 where they are ; and buckle this about you. 
 That's the costume du hat in these parts." 
 
 " If you assure me, that my dress will be 
 commeilfaut, Vm agreed." 
 
 " It tcont be with the long-tailed blue, I 
 promise you." 
 
 The long-tailed blue was restored forthwith 
 to its nook in my portmanteau. 
 
 St. Yrain was right. On arriving at the 
 room, a large sala in the neighbourhood of 
 the Plaza, we found it filled with hun- 
 ters, trappers, traders, and teamsters, all 
 swaggering about in their usual mountain 
 "rig." Mixed among them, were some two or 
 three score of the " natives," with an equal 
 number of seiioritas, all of whom, by their 
 style of dress, I recognised as " poblanas," 
 or persons of the lower class— the only class 
 in fact to be met with in Santa Fe ! 
 
 As we entered, most of the men had thrown
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 87 
 
 aside their serapes for the dance ; and ap- 
 peared in all the finery of embroidered velvet, 
 stamped leather, and shining " castletops." 
 The women looked not less picturesque, in 
 their bright " naguas," snowy chemisettes, 
 and small satin slippers. Some of them 
 flounced it in polka jackets ; for even to that 
 remote region, the famous dance had found 
 its way ! "Have you heard of the electric 
 telegraph?" " No, Senor." '* Can you tell 
 me what a railroad is?" " Quien sabe?" " La 
 Polka?" "Ah! Senor, la polka, la polka, 
 cosa buenita, tan graciosa ! vaya ! " 
 
 The ball room was a laro;e oblon^: sala, 
 
 O 7 
 
 with a "banquette" running all around it. 
 Upon this the dancers seated themselves, 
 drew out their husk cigarettes, chatted, and 
 smoked during the intervals of the dance. 
 In one corner, half-a-dozen sons of Orpheus 
 twanged away upon harp, guitar, and 
 bandolon ; occasionally helping out the 
 music with a shrill half-Indian chant. 
 In another angle of the apartment, puros
 
 88 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 and " Taos " whiskey were dealt out to the 
 thirsty mountaineers, who made the sola 
 ring with their wild ejaculations. 
 
 There were scenes like the following : 
 
 '^ Hyar, my little mochacha ! vamos, 
 vamos, ter dance! mucho bueno? Mucho 
 bueno? WiU ye?" 
 
 This is from a great rough fellow of six feet 
 and over, addressed to a trim little poblana. 
 
 " Mucho bueno, Seilor Americano ! " 
 replies the lady. 
 
 " Hooraw for you ! Come along ! let's 
 licker fust ! You're the gall for my beaver. 
 Wbart'll yer drink ? Agwardent, or vino ?" 
 
 "Copitita de vino, Senor." (A small 
 glass of mne, Sir.) 
 
 " Hyar, yer darned greaser ! Set out 
 yer vino in a squll's jump ! Now, my 
 little 'un, hyar's luck, and a good husband ! " 
 
 " Gracias, Seiior Americano !"| 
 
 " What ! you understand that ? You 
 intende, do yer?" 
 
 "Si, Senor!"
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 89 
 
 " Hooraw, then ! Look hyar, little 'un, — 
 kin yer go the bar dance ? " 
 
 '' No entiende.''^ 
 
 " Yer don't understan' it ! Hyar it is — 
 this awayj" and the clumsy hunter began 
 to show off before his partner, in an imita- 
 tion of the grizzly bear. 
 
 " Hilloa, Bill !" cries a comrade, " yer'll 
 be trapped if yer don't look sharp. How's 
 yer kidneys, hoss ?" 
 
 " I'm dog-gone, Jim, if I don't feel queery 
 about hyar," replies the hunter, spreading 
 his great paw over the region of the heart. 
 
 " Don't be skeert, man — it's a nice gal, 
 anyways." 
 
 " Nice ! Draw a bead on them eyes, if yer 
 kin; and jest squint down at them ankles!" 
 
 " Good sights — a heap o' quarter — clean 
 shanks." 
 
 " I wonder what the old chap '11 take for 
 her. I'm most froze for a squaw. Haint 
 had nery one since I tuk back that Crow 
 woman on the Yeller-stone."
 
 90 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 " Wall, man ! yer ain't among Injuns. 
 Get the gal's consent, if yer kin, and slie 
 won't cost yer as much as a plug o' bacca." 
 
 ''Hooray for old Missoura!" shouts a 
 teamster. 
 
 " Come, boys! Let's show these yeer 
 greasers a Virgin ny break down. ' Clar 
 the kitchen, old folks, young folks.* " 
 
 " Go it hoe and toe ! ' Old Yirginny neber 
 tire!'" 
 
 '' Viva el gobernador ! Viva Armijo ! 
 Viva! viva!" 
 
 An arrival at this moment caused a sen- 
 sation in the room. A stout, fat, priest- 
 like man entered, accompanied by several 
 others. It was the governor and his suite, 
 with a number of well-dressed citizens, who 
 were no doubt the elite of New Mexican 
 society. Some of the new comers were 
 militaires^ dressed in gaudy and foolish- 
 looking uniforms, that were soon seen spin- 
 ning around the room in the mazes of the 
 waltz.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 91 
 
 "Where is the Seiiora Armijo?" I whis- 
 pered to St. Vrain. 
 
 " I told you as much. She — she wont be 
 out. Stay here — I am going for a short 
 while. Help yourself to a partner, and see 
 some fun. I will be back presently. Au 
 revoir f'' 
 
 Without any further explanation, St. 
 Vrain squeezed himself through the crowd, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 I had been seated on the banquette, since 
 entering the sala — St. Vrain beside me — in 
 a retired corner of the room. A man of 
 peculiar appearance occupied the seat next 
 to St. Vrain, but farther into the shadow of 
 a piece of furniture. I had noticed this 
 man as we entered; and noticed too that St. 
 Vrain spoke to him ; but I was not intro- 
 duced; and the interposition of my friend 
 prevented me from making any further ob- 
 servation of him, until the latter had retired. 
 We were now side by side; and I com-
 
 92 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 menced a sort of angular reconnoisance of a 
 face and figure that had somewhat strangely 
 arrested my attention. He was not an 
 American — that was evident from his dress 
 — and yet the face was not Mexican. Its 
 outlines were too bold for a Spanish face, 
 though the complexion — from tan and ex- 
 posure — was brown and swarth. His face 
 was clean shaven, except the chin, that 
 carried a pointed, darkish beard. The 
 eye — if I saw it aright under the shadow of 
 a slouched brim — was blue and mild ; the 
 hair brown and wavy, with here and there 
 a strand of silver. These were not Spanish 
 characteristics — much less Hispano- Ameri- 
 can — and I should have at once placed my 
 neighbour elsewhere, but that his dress 
 puzzled me. It was purely a Mexican cos- 
 tume, and consisted of a purple manga^ with 
 dark velvet embroidery around the vent 
 and along the borders. As this garment 
 covered the greater part of his person, I
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 93 
 
 could only see that underneath was a pair 
 of green velveteen calzoneros, with yellow 
 buttons, and snow-white calzoncillos puffing 
 out along the seams. The bottoms of the 
 calzoneros were trimmed with stamped black 
 leather ; and under these were yellow boots, 
 mth a heavy steel spur upon the heel of 
 each. The broad peaked strap that confined 
 the spur, passing over the foot, gave to it 
 that peculiar contour that we observe in the 
 pictures of armed knights of the olden time. 
 He wore a black broad-brimmed sombrero, 
 girdled by a thick band of gold bullion. A 
 pair of tags of the same material, stuck 
 out from the sides — the fashion of the 
 country. 
 
 The man kept his sombrero slouched to- 
 ward the light, as I thought or suspected, 
 for the concealment of his face. And yet it 
 was not an ill-favoured one. On the con- 
 trary, it was open and pleasing — no doubt 
 had been handsome — before time, and what-
 
 94 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 ever caused its melancholy expression, had 
 lined and clouded it. It was this expression 
 that had struck me on first seeing the 
 man. 
 
 Whilst I was making these observations 
 — eyeing him crosswise all the while — I 
 discovered that he was eyeing me in a simi- 
 lar manner ; and with an interest apparently 
 equal to my own. This caused us to face 
 round to each other ; when the stranger 
 drew from under his manga a small beaded 
 cigarerro ; and, gracefully holding it out to 
 me, said — 
 
 ' ' Quiere a fumar cavalier o ?" ( Would you 
 smoke, sir ?) 
 
 "Thank you — yes," I replied in Spanish; 
 at the same time taking a cigar from the 
 case. 
 
 We had hardly lit our cigarettes, when 
 the man again turned to me, with the unex- 
 pected question : — 
 
 " Will you sell your horse ?"
 
 THE SCALP-KL^'TERS. 95 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Xot for a good price ?" 
 
 *' Xot for any price." 
 
 " I Avould give you five hundred dollars 
 for him." 
 
 " I would not part with him for twice the 
 amount." 
 
 " I will give twice the amount." 
 
 " I have become attached to him — money 
 is no object." 
 
 " I am sovTj to hear it — / have come two 
 hundred miles to buy that horse.'' 
 
 I looked at my new acquaintance with 
 astonishment, involuntarily repeating his 
 last words. 
 
 '' You must have followed us from the 
 Arkansas, then?" 
 
 " Xo, I came from the Pdo Abajo.'* 
 
 " The Rio Abajo ! You mean from down 
 the Del Norte?" 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 " Then, my dear sir, it is a mistake. You
 
 96 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 think you are talking to somebody else, and 
 bidding for some otber horse." 
 
 " Oh, no ! He is yours. A black stal- 
 hon with red nose, and long full tail — half- 
 bred Arabian ? There is a small mark over 
 the left eye?" 
 
 This was certainly the description of 
 Moro ; and I began to feel a sort of super- 
 stitious awe in regard to my mysterious 
 neighbour. 
 
 " True," replied I, " that is all correct ; 
 but I bought that stallion many months ago 
 from a Louisiana planter. If you have just 
 arrived from two hundred miles down the 
 Eio Grande, how, may I ask, could you have 
 kr own anything about me, or my horse ? " 
 
 "Dispensadme, Caballero ! I did not mean 
 that. I came from below to meet the cara- 
 van, for the purpose of buying an American 
 horse. Yours is the only one in the caval- 
 lada I would buy; and, it seems, the only 
 one that is not for sale !'' 
 
 " I am sorry for that ; but I have tested
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 97 
 
 the qualities of this animal. We have be- 
 come friends. No common motive would 
 induce me to part with him." 
 
 '^ Ah, Senor! it is not a common motive, 
 that makes me so eager to purchase him. 
 If you knew that^ perhaps — " he hesitated a 
 moment — "but no — no — no," and after mut- 
 tering some half- coherent words, among which 
 I could recognise, the '^ Buenas noches, 
 caballero ! " the stranger rose up with the 
 same mysterious air, that had all along char- 
 acterized him ; and left me. I could hear the 
 tinkling of the small bell upon the rowels of 
 his spurs, as he slowly warped himself 
 through the gay crowd, and disappeared 
 into the night ! 
 
 The vacated seat was soon occupied by a 
 dusky "manola," whose bright nagua, em- 
 broidered chemisette, brown ankles, and 
 small blue slippers drew my attention. This 
 was all I could see of her, except the occa- 
 sional flash of a very black eye through the 
 
 VOL. L F
 
 98 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 loophole of the "rebozo tapado." By de- 
 grees, the rebozo became more generous — 
 the loophole expanded — and the outlines of a 
 very pretty, and very malicious, little face were 
 displayed before me. The end of the scarf 
 was adroitly removed from the left shoulder; 
 and a nude plump arm, ending in a bunch of 
 small jewelled fingers, hung carelessly down, 
 
 I am tolerably bashful ; but, at the sight 
 of this tempting partner, I could " hold in" 
 no longer; and bending towards her, I said 
 in my best Spanish, "Do me the favour, 
 Miss, to waltz with me ?" 
 
 The wicked little manola first held down 
 her head, andblushed. Then raising the long 
 fringes of her eyes, looked up again; and 
 with a voice, as sweet as that of a canary-bird, 
 replied : — 
 
 "Con gusto, Seiior," (with pleasure, Sir). 
 
 " Nos vamos ! " cried I, elated with my 
 triumph ; and, pairing off with my brilliant 
 partner, we were soon whirling about in 
 the "mazy."
 
 THE SCALP.HUNTERS. 99 
 
 We returned to our seats again ; and 
 after refreshing with a glass of " Albu- 
 querque," a sponge-cake, and a " husk " 
 cigarette, again " took the floor." This 
 pleasurable programme we repeated some 
 half-dozen times, varying the dance, only 
 from waltz to polka — for my manola danced 
 the polka, as if she had been a born Bohe- 
 mian. 
 
 On one of my fingers was a fifty dollar dia- 
 mond ; which my partner seemed to think 
 was " muy buenito." As her igneous eyes 
 softened my heart, and the champagne was 
 producing a similar effect upon my head, I 
 began to speculate on the propriety of trans- 
 ferring the diamond from the smallest of my 
 fingers to the largest of hers ; which it would, 
 no doubt, have fitted exactly. All at once, I 
 became conscious of being under the sur- 
 veillance of a large, and very fierce-looking 
 lepero — a regular pelaclo — who followed us 
 with his eyes, and sometimes in persona^ to 
 
 f2
 
 100 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 every part of the room. The expression of 
 his swarth face was a mixture of jealousy 
 and vengeance — which my partner noticed, 
 but as I thought — took no pains to soften 
 down. 
 
 '* Who is he?" I whispered, as the man 
 swung past us in his chequered serape. 
 
 " Esta mi marido, Senor." (It is my hus- 
 band, sir,) was the cool reply ! 
 
 I pushed the ring close up to the root of 
 my finger, shutting my hand upon it as 
 tight as a vice. 
 
 " Yamos a tomar otra copita ! " (Let us 
 take another glass of wine!) said I, resolv- 
 ing to bid my pretty " poblana," as soon 
 as possible, a good night. 
 
 The Taos whiskey had by this time pro- 
 duced its effect upon the dancers. The 
 trappers and teamsters had become noisy 
 and riotous. The leperos — who now half 
 filled the room — stimulated by wine, jea- 
 lousy, old hates, and the dance, began to
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 101 
 
 look more savage and sulky. The fringed 
 hunting- shirts, and brown homespun frocks 
 found favour with the dark-eyed " maj as" 
 of Mexico — partly out of a respect for — and 
 a fear of — courage, which is often at the 
 bottom of a love like theirs. 
 
 Although the trading caravans supplied 
 almost all the commerce of Santa Fe, and 
 it was clearly the interest of its inhabitants 
 to be on good terms with the traders, the two 
 races — Anglo-American and Hispano- Indian 
 — hated each other thoroughly ; and that hate 
 was now displaying itself, on one side, in bully- 
 ing contempt — on the other, in muttered 
 " carajos" and fierce looks of vengeance. 
 
 I was stiU chatting with my lively part- 
 ner. We were seated on the banquette, 
 where I had introduced myself. On look- 
 ing casually up, a bright object met my 
 eyes. It appeared to be a naked knife in 
 the hands of " su marido," who was just 
 then lowering over us like the shadow of an
 
 102 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 evil spirit. I was favoured mth only a 
 slight glimpse of this dangerous meteor; 
 and had made up my mind to " ware steel," 
 when some one plucked me by the sleeve ; 
 and turning, I beheld my quondam ac- 
 quaintance of the purple manga. 
 
 '' Dispensadme, Seiior," said he, nodding 
 graciously, '^ I have just learned that the 
 caravan is going on to Chihuahua." 
 
 " True — there is no market here for our 
 goods." 
 
 *^ You go on then of course ? " 
 
 " Certainly — I must." 
 
 "Will you return this way, Senor ?" 
 
 " It is very likely — I have no other in- 
 tention at present." 
 
 " Perhaps — then^ you might be willing to 
 part with your horse ? — You will find 
 many as good in the great valley of the 
 Mississippi." 
 
 " Neither is likely." 
 
 " But, Seiior, should you be so inclined, 
 will you promise me the refusal of him?"
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 103 
 
 " Oil ! that I will promise you with all 
 my heart." 
 
 Our conversation was here interrupted by 
 a huge, gaunt, half-drunken Missourian, who, 
 trampling rudely upon the stranger's toes, 
 vociferated — 
 
 " Ye — up, old greaser ! and gi' me a char." 
 
 " Y porque?" (and why?) demanded the 
 Mexican, drawing in his feet, and looking 
 up with astonished indignation. 
 
 " Porky be d — d ! I'm tired jumpin — I 
 want a seat, that's it, old hos." 
 
 There was something so bullying and 
 brutal in the conduct of this man, that I felt 
 called upon to interfere, 
 
 ''Come!" said I, addressing him, *'you 
 have no right to deprive this gentleman of 
 his seat — much less in such a fashion." 
 
 " Eh, Mister? who the h — 11 asked you to 
 open yer head? Ye — up, I say !" and, at the 
 word, he seized the Mexican by the corner 
 of his manga, as if to drag him from his 
 seat
 
 104 THE SCALP-HUNTEJIS. 
 
 Before I had time to reply to this rude 
 speech and gesture, the stranger leaped 
 to his feet ; and, with a well-planted blow, 
 felled the bully upon the floor. 
 
 This seemed to act as a signal for bringing 
 several other quarrels to a climax. There 
 was a rush through all parts of the Sala 
 — drunken shouts mingled with yells 
 of vengeance — knives glanced from their 
 sheaths — women screamed — pistols flashed 
 and cracked, filling the room with smoke 
 and dust. The lights went out — fierce 
 strug^o^les could be heard in the darkness — 
 the fall of heavy bodies amidst groans and 
 curses — and for five minutes these were the 
 only sounds. 
 
 Having no cause to be particularly angry 
 with anybody, I stood where I had risen, 
 without using either knife or pistol — my 
 frightened '^ niaja" all the while holding me 
 by the hand. A painful sensation near my 
 left shoulder caused me suddenly to drop
 
 THE SCALP- HUNTERS. 105 
 
 my partner ; and, with that unaccountable 
 weakness consequent upon the reception 
 of a wound, I felt myself staggering toward 
 the banquette. Here I dropped into a sit- 
 ting posture ; and remained till the struggle 
 was over — conscious, all the while, that a 
 stream of blood was oozing down my back, 
 and saturating my under garments. 
 
 I sat thus till the struggle had ended. A 
 light was brought ; and I could distinguish 
 a number of men in hunting shirts moving 
 to and fro with violent gesticulations. Some 
 of them were advocating the justice of the 
 " spree,'* as they termed it ; while others, 
 the more respectable of the traders, were 
 denouncing it. The leper os^ with the women, 
 had all disappeared; and I could perceive 
 that the Americans had carried the day. 
 Several dark objects lay along the floor — 
 they were bodies of men dead or dying! 
 One was an American — the Missourian who 
 had been the immediate cause of the fracas 
 
 F 3
 
 106 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 — the others were pelados. I could see 
 nothing of my late acquaintance. My fan- 
 danguera, too — con su marido — had disap- 
 peared; and, on glancing at my left hand, 
 I came to the conclusion that so also had my 
 diamond ring! 
 
 " St. Vrain! St. Vrain!" I called, seeing 
 the figure of my friend enter at the door. 
 
 "Where are you, H., old boy? How is 
 it with you ; all right, eh? ^' 
 
 " Not quite, I fear." 
 
 "Good God! what's this? why, you're 
 stabbed in the hump ribs ! Not bad, I hope. 
 Off with your shirt and let's see." 
 
 " First, let us to my room." 
 
 " Come then, my dear boy, lean on me — 
 so, so." 
 
 The fandango was over.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 107 
 
 CHAPTER yill. 
 
 SEGUIN, THE SCALP-HUNTER. 
 
 I HAVE had the pleasure of being wounded 
 in the field of battle. I sslj pleasure. Under 
 certain circumstances, wounds are luxuries. 
 You have been carried on a " stretcher" to 
 some secure spot. An aide-de-camp drops 
 from his sweating horse ; and announces 
 that " the enemy is in full flight :" thus re- 
 lieving you from the apprehension of being 
 transfixed by some moustached lancer — a 
 friendly surgeon bends over you; and, after 
 groping awhile about your wound, tells you
 
 108 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 it is '^ only a scratch," and that it will be 
 well in a week or two : — then come visions 
 of glory — the glory of the Gazette : — pre- 
 sent pains are forgotten in the contemplation 
 of future triumphs — the congratulations of 
 friends — the smiles, perchance, of one dearer 
 than all. Consoled by such anticipations, 
 you lie back on your rude couch, smiling at 
 a bullet hole through your thigh, or the 
 slash of a sabre across your arm. 
 
 I have had these emotions. How differ- 
 ent were the feelings I experienced, while 
 smarting under wounds that came by the 
 steel of the assassin ! 
 
 My earliest anxiety was about the "depth" 
 of my wound. Was it mortal? This is 
 generally the first question a man puts to 
 himself, after discovering that he has been 
 shot, or stabbed. A wounded man cannot 
 always answer it either. One's life-blood 
 may be spurting from the artery at each 
 palpitation, while the actual pain felt is not 
 worth the pricking of a pin.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 109 
 
 On reaching the Fonda, I sank exliausted 
 on my bed. St. Yrain split my hunting 
 shirt from cape to skirt; and commenced 
 examining my wound. I could not see my 
 friend's face, as he stood behind me; and I 
 waited with impatience. 
 
 "Is it deep?" I asked. 
 
 " Not deep as a draw-well, nor wide as a 
 wagon-track," was the reply. " You're 
 quite safe, old fellow; thank God, and not 
 the man that handled that knife — for the 
 fellow plainly intended to do for you. It 
 is the cut of a Spanish knife, and a devilish 
 gash it is. By the Lord ! Haller. it was a 
 close shave. One inch more, and the spine, 
 my boy! But you're safe, I say. Here, 
 Gode! that sponge?" 
 
 '' Sacre^'^ muttered Gode, with true Gallic 
 aspirate, as he handed the wet rag. 
 
 I felt the cold application. Then a bunch 
 of soft raw cotton — the best dressing it 
 could have — was laid over the wound, and
 
 110 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 fastened by strips. The most skilful sur- 
 geon could have done no more. 
 
 " Close as a clam," added St. Vrain, as 
 he fastened the last pin, and placed me in 
 the easiest position. " But what started the 
 row ? and how came you to cut such a figure 
 in it? I was out, thank God." 
 
 " Did you observe a strange-looking 
 man ?" 
 
 "• What! with the purple manga?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He sat beside us?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Ha! No wonder you say, a strange- 
 looking man — stranger than he looks too. 
 I saw him, I know him, and perhaps not 
 another in the room could say that — aye — 
 there was another," continued St. Yrain, 
 with a peculiar smile; '^but what could 
 have brought him there is that which puzzles 
 me. Armijo could not have seen him — but 
 — go on."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. Ill 
 
 I related to St. Yrain the whole of my 
 conversation with the stranger, and the 
 incidents that had led to the breaking up 
 of the fandango. 
 
 " It is odd — ^very odd. What the deuce 
 could he want with your horse ? Two hun- 
 dred miles, and offers a thousand dollars!" 
 
 " Enfant de Garce, Capitaine." (God6 
 had called me captain ever since the ride 
 upon the buifalo), "if Monsieur come 
 two hunred mile, and vill pay un mille 
 thousan dollar, Pe Gar, he Moro like ver — 
 ver moch. Un grand passion pour le 
 cheval. Pourquois — vy he no like him 
 ver sheep? vy he no steal 'im? 
 
 I started at the suggestion, and looked 
 toward St. Yrain. 
 
 " Vith permiss of le capitaine, I vill 
 le cheval cache," continued the Canadian, 
 moving toward the door. 
 
 "You need not trouble yourself, old 
 Nor-west, as far as that gentleman is
 
 112 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 concerned. He'll not steal your horse — 
 though that's no reason why you should 
 not fulfil your intention, and cache the 
 animal. There are thieves enough in 
 Santa Fe to steal the horses of a whole 
 regiment. You had better fasten him by 
 the door here." 
 
 Gode, after devoting Santa Fe and its 
 inhabitants to a much warmer climate 
 than Canada, passed to the door, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 "Who is he?" I asked, "this man, 
 about whom there seems to be so much 
 that is mysterious ? " 
 
 " Ah ! if you knew. I will tell you 
 some queer passages, by-and-by, but not 
 to-night. You have no need of excitement. 
 That is the famous Seguin — the Scalp- 
 Hunter. 
 
 " The Scalp-Hunter ! " 
 
 " Aye ! you have heard of him, no 
 doubt ; at least you would, had you been 
 much among the mountains."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 113 
 
 *' I have. The hellish ruffian — the whole- 
 sale butcher of mnocent — " 
 
 A dark waif danced against the wall. It 
 was the shadoAV of a man. I looked up. 
 Seguin was before me ! 
 
 St. Vrain, on seeing him enter, had 
 turned away ; and stood looking out of the 
 window. 
 
 I was on the point of changing my tirade 
 into the apostrophic fonn — and at the same 
 time ordering the man out of my sight — 
 when something: in his look influenced me 
 to remain silent. I could not tell whether 
 he had heard, or understood to whom my 
 abusive epithets had been applied ; but 
 there was nothing in his manner that be- 
 trayed his having done so. I observed 
 only the same look that had at first at- 
 tracted me — the same expression of deep 
 melancholy. 
 
 Could this man be the hardened and 
 heartless villain I had heard of ? the author 
 of so many atrocities ?
 
 114 THE SCALP-HtlNTERS. 
 
 " Sir," said he, seeing that I remained 
 silent, " I deeply regret what has happened 
 you. I was the involuntary cause of your 
 mishap. Is your wound a severe one?" 
 
 " It is not," I replied, with a dryness of 
 manner that seemed somewhat to discom- 
 pose him. 
 
 " I am glad of that," he continued, after 
 a pause. " I came to thank you for your 
 generous interference. I leave Santa Fe in 
 ten minutes. I must bid you farewell." 
 
 He held forth his hand. I muttered the 
 word " farewell," but without offering to ex- 
 change the salutation. The stories of cruel 
 atrocity, connected with the name of this 
 man, came into my mind at the moment ; 
 and I felt a loathing for him. His arm 
 remained in its outstretched position, while 
 a strange expression began to steal over 
 his countenance, as he saw that I hesitated. 
 
 " I cannot take your hand," I said at length. 
 
 " And why?" he asked, in a mild tone.
 
 ' THE SCALP-HITN^TERS. 115 
 
 "Why! it is red — red; away, sir, away!" 
 
 He fixed his eyes upon me with a sorrow- 
 ful look. There was not a spark of anger 
 in them. He drew his hand within the 
 folds of his manga ; and, uttering a deep sigh, 
 turned and walked slowly out of the room. 
 
 St. Vrain, who had wheeled round at 
 the close of this scene, strode forward 
 to the door, and stood looking after him. 
 I could see the Mexican, from where I 
 lay, as he crossed the quadrangular patio. 
 He had shrugged himself closely in his 
 manga ; and was moving off in an attitude 
 that betokened the deepest dejection. In a 
 moment he was out of sight — having passed 
 through the saguan^ and into the street. 
 
 *' There is something truly mysterious 
 about that man. Tell me, St. Vrain " 
 
 " Hush-sh! look yonder!" interrupted my 
 friend, pointing through the open door. 
 
 I looked out into the moonlight. Three 
 human forms were moving along the wall, to-
 
 116 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 ward the entrance of the patio. Their height, 
 their peculiar attitudes, and the stealthy- 
 silence of their steps, convinced me they 
 were Indians. The next moment they were 
 lost under the dark shadows of the saguan. 
 
 " Who are they?" I inquired. 
 
 ** Worse enemies to poor Seguin than you 
 would be, if you knew him better. I pity 
 him, if those hungry hawks overtake him in 
 the dark. But no; he's worth warning, 
 and a hand to help him, if need be. He 
 shall have it. Keep cool, Harry. I will be 
 back in a jiffy." 
 
 So saying, St. Yrain left me ; and, the 
 moment after, I could see his light form 
 passing hastily out of the gate ! 
 
 I lay, reflecting on the strangeness of the 
 incidents that seemed to be occurring around 
 me. I was not without some painful reflec- 
 tions. I had wounded the feelings of one, 
 who had not injured me, and for whom my 
 friend evidently entertained a high respect.
 
 THE SCALP- HUlsTERS. 117 
 
 A shod hoof sounded upon the stones out- 
 side ; it was Gode with my horse ; and, the 
 next moment, I heard him hammering the 
 picket-pin into the pavement. 
 
 Shortly after, St. Yrain himself returned. 
 
 " Well," I inquired, " what happened 
 you?" 
 
 " Nothing much. That's a weasel that 
 never sleeps. He had mounted his horse 
 before they came up with him; and was very 
 soon out of their reach." 
 
 " But may they not follow him on horse- 
 back?" 
 
 " That is not likely. He has comrades 
 not far from here, I warrant you. Armijo 
 — and it was he sent those villains on his 
 track — has no force that dare follow him 
 when he gets upon the wild hills. No fear 
 for him, once he has cleared the houses.'^ 
 
 " But, my dear St. Vrain, tell me what 
 you know of this singular man. I am 
 wound up to a pitch of curiosity."
 
 118 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " Not to-night, Harry ; not to-night. I do 
 not wish to cause you further excitement ; 
 besides I have reason to leave you now. To- 
 morrow, then. Good night! good night!'' 
 
 And so saying, my mercurial friend left 
 me to Gode, and a night of restlessness. 
 
 I
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 119 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LEFT BEHIND. 
 
 On the third day after the fandango, it is 
 announced that the caravan will move 
 onward to Chihuahua. 
 
 The day arrives, and I am unable to 
 travel with it. My surgeon, — a wretched 
 leech of a Mexican, — assures me, that it 
 will be certain death to attempt the journey. 
 For want of any opposing evidence, I am 
 constrained to believe him. I have no alter- 
 native, but adopt the joyless resolve to 
 remain in Santa Fe, until the return of the 
 traders.
 
 120 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 Chafing on a feverish bed, I take leave of 
 my late companions. We part with many 
 regrets; but above all, I am pained at 
 bidding adieu to St. Yrain, whose light- 
 hearted companionship has been my solace 
 through three days of suffering. He has 
 proved my friend; and has undertaken to 
 take charge of my wagons, and dispose of 
 my goods in the market of Chihuahua. 
 
 " Do not fret, man," says he, taking leave. 
 "Kill time with the champagne of El Paso. 
 We will be back in a squirrel' s j ump ; and trust 
 me, I will bring you a mule-load of Mexican 
 shiners. God bless you — good bye 1' 
 
 I can sit up in my bed; and from the 
 open window, see the white tilts of the 
 wagons, as the train rolls over a neigh- 
 bouring hill. I hear the cracking whipSj 
 and the deep-toned " wo-ha" of the teamsters 
 — I see the traders mount and gallop after ; 
 and I turn upon my couch with a feeling 
 of loneliness and desertion.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 121 
 
 For days I lie tossing and fretting, despite 
 the consolotary influence of the champagne ; 
 and the rude but kindly attentions of ray 
 voyageur valet. 
 
 I rise at length — dress myself — and sit in 
 my " ventana." I have a good view of the 
 piazza, and the adjacent streets, with their 
 rows of brown adobe houses, and dusty ways 
 between. 
 
 I gaze, hour after hour, on what is passing 
 without. The scene is not -without novelty, 
 as well as variety. Swarthy ill-favoured 
 faces appear behind the folds of dingy re- 
 bozos. Fierce glances lower under the slouch 
 of broad sombreros. Poblanas with short 
 skirts, and slippered feet, pass my window ; 
 and groups of "tame" Indians, — Pueblos — 
 crowd in from the neighbouring rancherias, 
 belabouring their donkeys as they go. These 
 bring baskets of fruit and vegetables. They 
 squat down upon the dusty piazza, behind 
 piles of prickly pears, or pyramids of toma- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 toes and chile. The women — light-hearted 
 huxters — laugh and sing, and chatter con- 
 tinuously. The tortillera^ kneeling by her 
 metate\ bruises the boiled maize: claps it 
 into thin cakes, flings it on the heated stone, 
 and then cries " tortillas I tortillas calientesP' 
 The Cocinera stirs the peppery stew of chile 
 Colorado — lifts the red liquid in her wooden 
 ladle ; and invites her customers by the ex- 
 pressions '''' Chile hueno! excellenteP' " Carbon! 
 carbon /" cries the charcoal-burner. " Agua / 
 agua limpia /" shouts the aguadore. '' Fan 
 jino — pan bianco /" screams the baker; and 
 other cries — ^from the venders ofatole, huevos, 
 and leche, — are uttered in shrill discordant 
 voices. Such are the voices of a Mexican 
 ^' piazza." 
 
 They are at first interesting. They 
 become monotonous, — then disagreeable ; 
 until at length I am tortured ; and listen to 
 them with a feverish excitement. 
 
 After a few days, I was able to walk,— and
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 123 
 
 went out with my faithful Gode. We strolled 
 through the town It reminded me of an 
 extensive brick-field, before the kilns have 
 been set on fire. 
 
 We encountered the same brown adobes 
 everywhere — the same villanous-looking 
 leperos lounging at the corners, — the 
 same bare-legged slippered wenches — the 
 same strings of belaboured donkeys, — the 
 same shrill and detestable cries. 
 
 We passed by a ruinous-looking house 
 in a remote quarter. Our ears were 
 saluted by voices from within. We heard 
 shouts of '' Mueran los Yankees! Abajo los 
 Americanos P^ No doubt the pelado — to 
 whom I was indebted for my wound — was 
 among the rufiians who crowded into th^ 
 windows ; but I knew the lawlessness of the 
 place too well, to apply for justice. 
 
 We heard the same shouts in another street, 
 — again in the piazza ; and Gode and I re- 
 entered the Fonda, with a conviction, that 
 
 g2
 
 124 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 our appearaance in public might be attended 
 with danger. We resolved therefore to 
 keep within doors. 
 
 In all my life I never suffered ennui, as 
 when cooped up in this semi-barbarous 
 town; and almost confined within the 
 walls of its filthy fonda. I felt it the more 
 that I had so lately enjoyed the company 
 of such free jovial spirits, and I could 
 fancy them in their bivouacs on the banks 
 of the Del Norte, carousing, laughing, 
 or listening to some wild mountain 
 story. 
 
 Gode 'shared 'my feelings ; and became as 
 desponding as myself. The light humour 
 of the voyageur disappeared. The song of 
 the Canadian boatman was heard no longer; 
 but, in its place, the " sacre," the " Enfant de 
 garce," and the English " God-dam," were 
 sputtered plentifully, and hurled at every- 
 thing Mexican. I resolved at length to 
 put an end to our sufferings.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 125 
 
 "This life wiU never do, Gode," said I 
 addressing my compagnon. 
 
 '^ Ah ! Monsieur, nevare ! nevare it will 
 do. Ah ! ver doll. It is like von assemblee 
 of le dam Quaker." 
 
 *^I am determined to endure it no longer.'^ 
 
 "But what can Monsieur do?" How, 
 Capitaine?" 
 
 " By leaving this accursed place ; and 
 that to-morrow." 
 
 " But is Monsieur fort — strongs beaucoup 
 strongs to ride?" 
 
 " I will risk it, Gode. If I break down, 
 there are other towns on the river, where 
 we can halt. Anywhere better than here." 
 
 " C'est vrai, Capitaine. Beautiful village 
 down the river. Albuquerque — Tome — ver 
 many village. Mon Dieu ! — all better. Santa 
 Fe is one camp of dam thief. Ver good for 
 us go, Monsieur ; ver good." 
 
 " Good or not, Gode, I am going. So 
 make your preparations to-night, for I will 
 leave in the morning before sunrise."
 
 126 THE SCALP-HUNTEHS. 
 
 " Dieu merci ! It vill be von grand 
 plaisir to makes ready." And the Canadian 
 ran from the room, snapping his fingers 
 with delight. 
 
 I had made up my mind to leave Santa Fe 
 at any rate. Should my strength — yet but 
 half restored — hold out, I would follow, and 
 if possible, overtake the caravan. I knew 
 it could make but short journeys over the 
 deep sand roads of the Del Norte. Should 
 I not succeed in coming up with it, I could 
 halt in Albuquerque or El Paso — either of 
 which would offer me a residence, at least 
 as agreeable as the one I was leaving. 
 
 My surgeon endeavoured to dissuade me 
 from setting out. He represented that I 
 was in a most critical condition. My wound 
 far from being cicatrized. He set forth in 
 most eloquent terms the dangers of fever, of 
 gangrene, of hemorrhage. He saw I was 
 obstinate, and concluded his monitions, by 
 presenting his bill. It amounted to the
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 127 
 
 modest sum of 1 00 dollars ! It was an ex- 
 tortion. What could I do ? I stormed and 
 protested. The Mexican threatened me 
 with " governor's " justice. Gode swore in 
 French, Spanish, English, and Indian. It 
 was all to no purpose. I saw that the bill 
 would have to be paid; and I paid it — though 
 with indifferent grace. 
 
 The leech disappeared, and the landlord 
 came next. He, like the former, made earnest 
 entreaty to prevent me from setting forth. 
 He offered a variety of reasons to detain me. 
 
 " Do not go ; for your life, Senor, do not." 
 
 " And why, good Jose ? " I inquired. 
 
 " 0, Seiior ; los Indios bravos — los Nava- 
 joes ! carrambo ! " 
 
 " But I am not going into the Indian 
 country. I travel down the river — through 
 the towns of New Mexico." 
 
 " Ah ! Seiior, the towns — no hay seguri- 
 dad. No — no — there is safety nowhere 
 from the Navajo. Hay novedades — news
 
 128 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 this very day. Polvidera — pobre Polvidera ! 
 It was attacked on Sunday last. On Sunday, 
 Seiior, when they were all en la misa. Pues, 
 Seiior, the robbers surrounded the church ; 
 and oh, Carrambo! they dragged out the 
 poor people — men, women and children ! 
 Pues, Seiior; they killed the men — and the 
 women — Dios de mi alma! " 
 
 '^ Well, and the women?" 
 
 "0, Seiior ; they are all gone — they were 
 carried to the mountains by the savages. 
 Pol3res mugeres ! " 
 
 "It is a sad story truly ; but the Indians, 
 I understand, only make these forays at long 
 intervals. I am not likely to meet with 
 them now. At all events, Jose, I have 
 made up my mind to run the risk." 
 
 " But Seiior," continued Jose, lowering 
 his voice to a confidential tone, " there are 
 other ladrones besides the Indians — white 
 ones — muchos — muchissirnos ! Aye, indeed, 
 mi arao, white robbers — ^blancos— blancos y 
 muy feos — carrai ! "
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 129 
 
 And Jose closed his fingers as if clutclaing 
 some imaginary object. 
 
 This appeal to my fears was in vain. I 
 answered it by pointing to my revolvers and 
 rifle ; and to the well-filled belt of my 
 henchman Gode. 
 
 When the Mexican boniface saw that I 
 was determined to rob him of all the guests 
 he had in his house, he retired sullenly ; 
 and shortly after returned with his bill. 
 Like that of the "medico," it was out 
 of all proportion ; but I could not help 
 myself; and paid it. 
 
 By grey da^vn I was in my saddle ; and, 
 followed by God^ and a couple of heavily 
 packed mules, I rode out of the ill-favoured 
 town; and took the road for the " Kio 
 Abajo." 
 
 g3
 
 130 THE SCALP-HUNTERSe 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 THE DEL NOETE. 
 
 Fob days we journey down the Del Norte. 
 We pass through numerous villages, many 
 of them types of Santa Fe. We cross the 
 zequias and irrigating canals; and pass along 
 fields of bright green maize plants. We 
 see vineyards and grand haciendas. These 
 appear richer and more prosperous, as we 
 approach the southern part of the province 
 — the Rio Abajo. 
 
 In the distance, both east and west, we 
 descry dark mountains rolled up against 
 the sky. These are the twin ranges of
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS 131 
 
 the Rocky Mountains. Long spurs trend 
 toward the river, and in places appear to 
 close up the valley. They add to the ex- 
 pression of many a beautiful landscape, that 
 opens before us as we move onward. 
 
 We see picturesque costumes in the vil- 
 lages, and along the highways. Men dressed 
 in the checquered serape or the striped 
 blanket of the Navajoes ; conical sombreros 
 with broad brims ; calzoneros of velveteen, 
 with their rows of shining castle-tops, and 
 fastened at the waist by the jaunty sash. 
 We see mangas and tilmas, and men wearing 
 the sandal as in Eastern lands. On the 
 women we observe the graceful rebozo, 
 the short nagua, and the embroidered 
 chemisette. 
 
 We see rude implements of husbandry: 
 the creaking carreta, with its block wheels ; 
 the primitive plough of the forking tree- 
 branch, scarcely scoring the soil ; the horn- 
 yoked oxen ; the goad ; the clumsy hoe, in
 
 132 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 the hands of the peon serf, — these are all 
 objects that are new and curious to bur 
 eyes ; and that indicate the lowest order of 
 agricultural knowledge. 
 
 Along the roads we meet numerous atajos, 
 in charge of their arrieros. We observe the 
 mules, small, smooth, light-limbed, and vi- 
 cious. We glance at the heavy alparejas 
 and bright worsted apishamores. We notice 
 the tight wiry mustangs, ridden by the 
 arrieros ; the high-peaked saddles and hair 
 bridles ; the swarth faces and pointed beards 
 of the riders ; the huge spurs, that tinkle at 
 every step ; the exclamations, " Hola! mula! 
 mula! malraya! vaya!"^we notice all these; 
 and they tell us we are journeying in the 
 land of the Spano-American. 
 
 Under other circumstances, these objects 
 would have interested me. At that time, 
 they appeared to me like the pictures of a 
 panorama, or the changing scenes of a con- 
 tinuous dream. As such, have they left
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 133 
 
 their impressions on ray memory. I was 
 under the incipient delirium of fever. 
 
 It was yet only incipient ; nevertheless, 
 it distorted the images around me, and ren- 
 dered their impressions unnatural and wea- 
 risome. My wound began to pain me afresh ; 
 and the hot sun, and the dust, and the thirst 
 with the miserable accommodations of Kew 
 Mexican posadas — vexed me to an excess of 
 endurance. 
 
 On the fifth day, after leaving Santa Fe, 
 we entered the wretched little '^pueblo" of 
 Parida. It was my intention to have re- 
 mained there all night ; but it proved a ruf- 
 fian sort of place, with meagre chances of 
 comfort; and I moved onto Socorro. This 
 is the last inhabited spot in New Mexico, as 
 you approach the terrible desert — the Jor- 
 nada del Muerte. 
 
 Gode had never made the journey ; 
 and at Parida I had obtained one thing 
 that we stood in need of — a guide. He
 
 134 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 had volunteered; and as I learnt that it 
 would be no easy task to procure one at 
 Socorro, I was fain to take him along. He 
 was a coarse, shaggy -looking customer ; and 
 I did not at all like his appearance ; but I 
 found, on reaching Socorro, that what I 
 had heard was correct. Xo guide could be 
 hired on any terms — so great was their 
 dread of the Jornada, and its occasional 
 denizens, the Apaches. 
 
 Socorro was alive with Indian rumours — 
 novedades. The Indians had fallen upon an 
 atajonear the crossing of Fra Cristobal; and 
 murdered the arrieros to a man. The vil- 
 lage was full of consternation at the news. 
 The people dreaded an attack ; and thought 
 me mad, when I made known my intention 
 of crossing the Jornada. 
 
 I began to fear they would frighten my 
 guide from his engagement ; but the fellow 
 stood out staunchly, still expressing his 
 willingness to accompany lis.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 135 
 
 Without the prospect of meeting the 
 Apache savages, I was but ill prepared for 
 the Jornada. The pain of my wound had in- 
 creased ; and I was fatigued, and burning 
 with fever. 
 
 But the caravan had passed through 
 Socorro only three days before ; and I was 
 in hopes of overtaking my old companions 
 before they could leave £1 Paso. This 
 determined me to proceed in the morning ; 
 and I made arrangements for an early 
 start. 
 
 Gode and I were awake before dawn. 
 My attendant went out to summon the 
 guide, and saddle our animals. I remained 
 in the house making preparations for a cup 
 of coffee before starting. I was assisted by 
 the landlord of the posada, who had arisen ; 
 and was stalking about in his serape. 
 
 While thus engaged, I was startled by the 
 voice of Gode calling from without, " Mon 
 maitre! mon maitre! the dam rascal have 
 him run vay ! "
 
 J 36 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " What do you mean ? Who has run 
 away ?" 
 
 "0 Monsieur! le dam Mexicane, vith 
 vou mule, has robb, and run vay, Allons, 
 Monsieur, allons!*^ 
 
 I followed the Canadian to the stable with 
 a feeling of anxiety. My horse — but no — 
 thank heaven, he was there! One of the 
 mules — the macho — was gone. It was 
 the one which the guide had ridden from 
 Parida. 
 
 " Perhaps he is not off yet," I suggested. 
 " He may still be in the town." 
 
 We sent and went in all directions to find 
 him ; but to no purpose. We were relieved 
 at length from all doubts by the arrival of 
 some early market men, who had met such 
 a man as our guide far up the river, and 
 riding a mule at full gallop. 
 
 What should we do? Follow him to 
 Parida ? No ; that would be a journey for 
 nothing. I knew that he would not be
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 137 
 
 fool enough to go that way. Even if he 
 did, it would have been a fool's errand to seek 
 for justice there ; so I determined on leaving 
 it over, until the return of the traders would 
 enable me to find the thief, and demand his 
 punishment from the authorities. 
 
 My regrets at the loss of my macho were 
 not unmixed with a sort of gratitude to the 
 fellow, when I laid my hand upon the nose 
 of my whimpering charger. What hindered 
 him from taking the horse instead of the 
 mule ? It is a question I have never been 
 able to answer to this day. I can only 
 account for the fellow's preference for the 
 mule on the score of downright honesty, or 
 the most perverse stupidity. 
 
 I made overtures for another guide. I 
 applied to the boniface of Socorro, but with- 
 out success. He knew no " mozo " who 
 would undertake the journey. 
 
 ''Los Apaches — los Apaches!" 
 
 I appealed to the peons and loiterers of 
 the piazza.
 
 138 THE SCALP-HUNTEHS. 
 
 "Los Apaches!" 
 
 Wherever I went, I was answered with, 
 " Los Apaches," and a shake of the fore- 
 finger before the nose — a negative sign over 
 all Mexico. 
 
 " It is plain, Gode, we can get no guide. 
 We must try this Jornada without one. 
 What say you, voyageur ?" 
 
 " I am agree, mon maitre — allons ! " 
 
 And, followed by my faithful compagnon^ 
 with our remaining pack-mule, I took the 
 road that leads to the desert. That night 
 we slept among the ruins of Yalverde ; and 
 the next morning, after an early start, em- 
 barked upon the "Journey of Death."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE "journey of DEATH." 
 
 In two hours we reach the crossing at 
 Fra Cristobal. Here the road parts from 
 the river, and strikes into the waterless 
 desert. We plunge through the shallow 
 ford, coming out on the eastern bank. We 
 fill our " xuages." with care, and give our 
 animals as much as they will drink. After 
 a short halt to refresh ourselves, we ride 
 onward. 
 
 We have not travelled far, before we re- 
 cognise the appropriate name of this terrible 
 journey. Scattered along the path we see
 
 140 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 the bones of many animals. There are human 
 bones too ! That white spheroidal mass, 
 with its grinning rows and serrated sutures 
 — that is a human skull. It lies beside the 
 skeleton of a horse. Horse and rider have 
 fallen together. The wolves have stripped 
 them at the same time. They have dropped 
 down on their thirsty track, and perished in 
 despair, although water — had they known 
 it — was within reach of another effort ! 
 
 We see the skeleton of a mule, with the 
 alpareja still buckled around it, and an old 
 blanket, flapped and tossed by many a 
 whistling wind. 
 
 Other objects, that have been brought there 
 by human aid, strike the eye as we proceed. 
 A bruised canteen — the fragments of a glass 
 bottle — an old hat — a piece of saddle-cloth 
 — a stirrup, red with rust — a broken strap — 
 with many like symbols, are strewed along 
 our path, speaking a melancholy language. 
 
 We are still only on the border of the 
 desert. We are fresh. How, when we have
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 141 
 
 travelled over and neared the opposite side ? 
 Shall we leave such souvenirs ? 
 
 We are filled with painful forebodings, 
 as we look across the arid waste that 
 stretches indefinitely before us. We do not 
 dread the Apache. Nature herself is the 
 enemy we fear. 
 
 Taking the wagon tracks for our guide, we 
 creep on. We grow silent, as if we were 
 dumb. The mountains of Cristobal sink 
 behind us; and we are almost "out of sight 
 of land." We can see the ridges of the 
 Sierra Blanca away to the eastward ; but 
 before us — to the south — the eye encounters 
 no mark or limit. 
 
 The sun grows hotter and hotter. I knew 
 this would be the case, when we started. It 
 was one of those cool mornings, with fog on 
 the river and in the air. In all my wander- 
 ings, through many climes, I have observed 
 such mornings to be the harbingers of sultry 
 hours at noon.
 
 142 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 The sun is climbing upward, and every 
 moment his rays become fiercer and more 
 fervid. There is a strong wind blowing ; 
 but it does not fan us into coolness. On 
 the contrary, it lifts the burning crystals, 
 and spits them painfully in our faces ! 
 
 The sun has climbed to the zenith. We 
 toil on through the yielding sand. For miles 
 we see no traces of vegetation. The wagon 
 tracks guide us no longer. The drift has 
 obscured them ! 
 
 We enter a plain covered with artemisia, 
 and clumps of the hideous greasewood. 
 
 The warped and twisted branches impede 
 our progress. For hours we ride through 
 thickets of the bitter sage ; and at length 
 enter another region, sandy and rolling. 
 Long arid spurs shoot down from the 
 mountains ; and decline into ridges of dry 
 drifting sand. Now not even the silvery 
 leaf of the artemisia cheers our path. Before 
 us, we see nothing but barren yellow waste 
 — trackless and treeless !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 143 
 
 A tropical sun glances up from the bril- 
 liant surface ; and we are almost blinded by 
 the refracted rays. The wind blows more 
 lightly ; and clouds of dust load the air, 
 sweeping slowly along! 
 
 We push forward -svithout guide or any 
 object to indicate our course. We are soon 
 in the midst of bewilderment. A scene of 
 seeming enchantment springs up around us. 
 Vast towers of sand — borne up by the 
 whirl-blast — rise vertically to the sky. 
 They move to and fro over the plain. They 
 are yellow and luminous. The sun glistens 
 among their floating crystals. They move 
 slowly, but they are approaching us ! 
 
 I behold them with feelings of awe. I 
 have heard of travellers lifted in their whirl- 
 ing vortex, and dashed back again from fear- 
 ful heights! 
 
 The pack mule — frightened at the pheno- 
 menon — breaks the lasso, and scampers 
 away among the ridges. Gode has galloped 
 in pursuit. I am alone !
 
 144 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 Nine or ten gigantic columns now appear, 
 and stalk over the plain, circling gradually 
 around me ! There is something unearthly 
 in the appearance. They resemble creatures 
 of a phantom world. They seem endowed 
 with demon life ! 
 
 Two of them approach each other. There 
 is a short gusty struggle, that ends in their 
 mutual destruction. The sand is preci- 
 pitated to the earth ; and the dust floats off 
 in dun shapeless masses. 
 
 Several have shut me within a space, and 
 are slowly closing. My dog howls and barks. 
 My horse cowers with affright, and shivers 
 between my thighs, uttering terrified ex- 
 pressions ! 
 
 I am irresolute. I sit in my saddle wait- 
 ing the result, with an indescribable feeling. 
 My ears are filled with a buzzing sound, like 
 the hum of machinery. My eyes distort the 
 natural hues into a fiery brightness. My 
 brain reels. Strange objects appear. The 
 fever is upon me !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 145 
 
 The laden currents clash in their wild 
 
 torsion. I am twisted around, and torn 
 
 from my saddle, — my eyes, mouth, and ears 
 
 are filled with dust. Sand, stones, and 
 
 branches strike me spitefully in the face; 
 
 and I am flung with violence to the earth ! 
 * * * * 
 
 I lay for a moment where I had fallen, 
 half buried and blind. I could perceive 
 that thick clouds of dust were still sweeping 
 over me. 
 
 I was neither stunned nor hurt; and I 
 began to grope around me, for as yet I 
 could see nothing. My eyes were full of 
 sand, and pained me exceedingly. Throw- 
 ing out my arms, I felt for my horse, — I 
 called him by name. A low whimper 
 answered me. I staggered toward the spot, 
 and laid my hands upon him, — he was 
 down upon his flank. I seized the bridle, 
 and he sprang up ; but I could feel that he 
 was shivering like an aspen ! 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 I stood by my horse's head for nearly half 
 an hour, rubbing the dust from my eyes; 
 and waiting until the simoon might settle 
 away. At length the atmosphere grew 
 clearer, and I could see the sky. The sand 
 still drifted along the ridges, and I could not 
 distinguish the surface of the plain. There 
 were no signs of God^. He might be near 
 me notwithstanding; and I shouted loudly, 
 calling him by name. I listened, but there 
 was no answer. Again I raised my voice, and 
 with a like result. There was no sound but 
 the singing of the wind. 
 
 I mounted ; and commenced riding over 
 the plain in search of my comrade. I had 
 no idea of what direction he might have 
 taken. 
 
 I made a circuit of a mile or so— still 
 calling his name as I went. I received 
 no reply, and could see no traces upon the 
 ground. I rode for an hour, galloping 
 from ridge to ridge, but still without meet-
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 147 
 
 ing any signs of my comrade or the mules. 
 I pulled up in despair. I had shouted, 
 until I was faint and hoarse. I could 
 search no longer. 
 
 I was thirsty and would drink. " 
 God ! my xuages are broken ! the pack 
 mule has carried off the water-skin." 
 
 The crushed calabash still hung upon its 
 thong ; but the last drops it had contained, 
 were trickling down the flanks of my 
 horse. I knew that I might be fifty miles 
 from water ! 
 
 You cannot understand the fearfulness 
 of this situation. You live in a northern 
 zone — in a land of pools and streams and 
 limpid springs. You have never felt thirst. 
 You know not the want of water. It gushes 
 from every hill side ; and you have grown 
 fastidious about its quality. You complain 
 of its hardness, its softness, or its want 
 of crystal purity. How unlike the denizen 
 of the desert — the voyageur of the prairie 
 
 H 2
 
 148 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 
 
 sea! Water is his chief care — his ever 
 present sojicitude. "Water the divinity he 
 worships. 
 
 Hunger he can stifle — so long as a patch 
 of his leathern garment hangs to him. 
 Should game not appear, he can trap the 
 marmot, catch the lizard, and gather the 
 prairie crickets. He knows every root and 
 seed that will sustain life. Give him water, 
 and he will live and struggle on. He will, 
 in time, crawl out of the desert. Without 
 this, he may chew the leaden bullet, or the 
 pebble of chalcedony. He may split the 
 spheroid cactus ; and open the intestines of 
 the butchered bufiklo ; but in the end he 
 must die. Without water, even in the 
 midst of plenty — plenty of food — ^he must 
 die. Ah ! you know not thirst. It is a 
 fearful thing. In the wild western desert 
 it is the thirst that kills ! 
 
 No wonder I was filled with despair. I 
 believed myself to be about the middle of
 
 THE SCALP- HUNTERS. 149 
 
 the Jornada. I knew that I could never 
 reach the other side without water. The 
 yearning had already begun. My throat 
 and tongue felt shrivelled and parched. 
 Thirst and fever had done it. The desert 
 dust, too, had contributed its share. Fierce 
 desires already gnawed me with ceaseless 
 tooth! 
 
 I had lost all knowledge of. the course I 
 should take. The mountains — hitherto our 
 guide — seemed to trend in every direction. 
 Their numerous spurs puzzled me. 
 
 I remembered hearing of a spring — the 
 Ojo del Muerto — that was said to lie west- 
 ward of the trail. Sometimes there was 
 water in this spring. On other occasions 
 travellers had reached it, only to find the 
 fountain dried up, and leave their bones 
 upon its banks ! So ran the tales in So- 
 corro. 
 
 For some minutes I vacillated ; and then, 
 pulling the right rein of my bridle almost
 
 150 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 involuntarily, I headed my horse westward. 
 I would seek the spring; and, should I fail 
 to find it, push on to the river. This was 
 turning out of my course ; but I must reach 
 the water, and save my life. 
 
 I sat in my saddle, faint and choking, 
 leaving my animal to go at will. I had 
 lost the energy to guide him. 
 
 He went many miles — westward — for the 
 sun told me the course. I was suddenly 
 roused from my stupor. A glad sight was 
 before me. A lake ! A lake shining like 
 crystal! Was I certain I saw it? Could it 
 be the mirage ? No. Its outlines were too 
 sharply defined. It had not that filmy 
 whitish appearance which distinguishes the 
 latter phenomenon. No. It was not the 
 mirage. It was water ! 
 
 I involuntarily pressed the spur against 
 the sides of my horse. But he needed not 
 that. He had already eyed the water ; and 
 sprang forward inspirited with new energy. 
 The next moment he was in it to his flanks.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS, 151 
 
 I flung myself from the saddle with a 
 plunge. I was about to lift the water in 
 my concave palms, when the actions of my 
 horse attracted me. Instead of drinking 
 greedily, he stood tossing his head with 
 snorts of disappointment ! My dog too re- 
 fused to lap ; and ran along the shore whin- 
 ing and howling ! 
 
 I knew what this meant; but — with that 
 common obstinacy which refuses aU testi- 
 mony but the evidence of the senses — I 
 lifted some drops in my hand, and applied 
 them to my lips. They were briny and 
 burning ! I might have known this before 
 reaching the lake, for I had ridden through 
 a salt incrustation that surrounded it like a 
 belt of snow. But my brain was fevered. 
 My reason had left me ! 
 
 It was of no use remaining where I was. I 
 clinched back into my saddle ; and rode along 
 the shore, over fields of snow-white salt! 
 Here and there, my horse's hoof rang against
 
 152 THE SCALP-HUNTItRS. 
 
 bleaching bones of animals — the remains of 
 many a victim. Well was this lake named 
 the Lao;una del Muerto — the "Lake of 
 Death!'' 
 
 Keaching its southern point, I again 
 headed westward, in hopes of striking the 
 river. 
 
 From this time until a later period, — 
 when I found myself in a far different scene 
 — I have no distinct memories. Incidents, 
 I remember, unconnected with each other, 
 but nevertheless real. These are linked, in 
 my memory, with others so wild and im- 
 probable, that I can only consider the latter 
 as fancies of the madness that was then upon 
 me. But some were real. My reason 
 must have returned at intervals, by some 
 strange oscillation of the brain ! 
 
 I remember dismounting on a high bank 
 — I must have travelled unconsciously* for 
 hours before — for the sun was low down, on 
 the horizon, as I alighted. It was a very
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 153 
 
 high bank — a precipice— and below me I saw 
 a beautiful river sweeping onward through 
 groves of emerald greenness. I thought 
 there were many birds fluttering in the 
 groves ; and their voices rang in de- 
 licious melody. There was fragrance 
 on the air; and the scene below me 
 seemed an Elysium. I thought, that, 
 around where I stood, all was bleak, and 
 barren, and parched with intolerable heat. 
 I was tortured with a slakeless thirst, that 
 grew fiercer, as I gazed on the flowing 
 water. These were real incidents. All this 
 was true. * * * * 
 
 I must drink. I must to the river. It 
 is cool sweet water. Oh! I must drink. 
 What ! A horrid cliff" ! No — I will not go 
 down there. I can descend more easily 
 here. Who are these forms? Who are 
 you, sir? Ah! it is you, my brave Moro; 
 and you. Alp. Come ! Come ! Follow me ! 
 Down— down to the river! Ah! Again 
 
 H 3
 
 154 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 that accursed cliff ! Look at the beautiful 
 water ! It smiles ! It ripples— on— on— on ! 
 Let us drink ! No— not yet — we cannot yet. 
 We must go farther. Ugh ! Such a height 
 to leap from! But we must drink— one 
 and all. Come, Gode! Come, Moro— old 
 friend ! Alp ! Come on ! We will reach 
 it— we will drink. Who is Tantalus? Ha ! 
 ha! Not I — not I. Stand back, fiends! 
 Do not push me over ! Back ! back, I say. 
 Oh! * ^- * * 
 
 I thought that forms — many of them — 
 forms, strange and fiend-like — clustered 
 around me ; and dragged me to the brink 
 of the clifi*. I was launched out in the air. 
 I felt myself falling — falling — falling, and 
 still came no nearer to the green trees, 
 and the bright water, though I could see 
 
 them shining below me ! 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I rest upon a rock — a mass of vast di- 
 mensions—but it is not at rest. It is swim-
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 155 
 
 ming onTvard through empty space. I 
 cannot move myself. I lie helpless — • 
 stretched along its surface — while it sweeps 
 onward. It is an aerolite. It can be no- 
 thing but that. God ! there will be a 
 terrible collision when it strikes some planet 
 world! Horror! horror! * * 
 
 I am lying on the ground — the ground of 
 the earth. It upheaves beneath me, and 
 oscillates to and fro like the undulations 
 of an earthquake! * * # 
 
 Part of all this was reality; part was a 
 dream — a dream, that bore some resem- 
 blance to the horrors oi2i first intoxication.
 
 156 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ZOE. 
 
 I LAY tracing the figures upon the cur- 
 tains. They were scenes of the olden time. 
 Mailed knights, helmed and mounted, dash- 
 ing at each other with couched lances ; or 
 tumbling from their horses, pierced by the 
 spear. Other scenes there were : noble 
 dames, sitting on Flemish palfreys, and 
 watching the flight of the merlin hawk. 
 There were pages in waiting ; and dogs, of 
 curious and extinct breeds, held in the leash. 
 Perhaps these never existed, except in the 
 dreams of some old-fashioned artist ; but
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 157 
 
 my eye followed their strange shapes with 
 a sort of half idiotic wonder. 
 
 I was forcibly impressed with the noble 
 features of the dames. Was that, too, a fancy 
 of the painter? or were those divine outlines 
 of face and figure typical of the times ? If 
 so, no wonder that corselets were crushed, 
 and lances shivered for their smiles. 
 
 Metallic rods upheld the curtains — rods 
 that shone brightly, and curv^ed upwards, 
 forming a canopy. My eyes ran along 
 these rods, scanning their configuration, 
 and admiring, as a child admires, the regu- 
 larity of their curves. I was not in my 
 o^vn land. These things were strange to 
 me ; " yet," thought I, " I have seen some- 
 thing like them before,^' but where ? Oh ! 
 this I know — with its broad stripes and 
 silken texture — it is a Navajo blanket! 
 Where was 1 last ? In New Mexico ? Yes. 
 Now, I remember — the Jornada! but how 
 came I ?
 
 158 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " Can I untwist this ? It is close woven 
 — it is wool — fine wool. No, I cannot 
 separate a thread from 
 
 "My fingers ! how white and thin they are ! 
 and my nails— blue, and long as the talons 
 of a bird ! I have a beard ! I feel it on my 
 chin. What gave me a beard ? I never wear 
 it; I will shave it ofi* — ^ha! — my moustache! 
 
 "The knights — how they tilt at each other! 
 Bloody work ! That bold fellow — the 
 smaller too — will unhorse the other. I can 
 tell from the spring of his horse, and the 
 way he sits him. Horse and rider are the 
 same being now. The same mind unites 
 them by a mysterious link. The horse feels 
 with his rider. He cannot fail to conquer 
 charging thus. 
 
 " Those beautiful ladies ! She with the 
 hawk perched on her arm — how brilliant — 
 how bold, yet lovely ! " 
 
 I was wearied, and slept again. * * 
 
 Once more my eyes were tracing the
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 159 
 
 figures upon the curtains — the knights and 
 dames — the hounds, hawks, and horses. 
 But my brain had become clearer, and music 
 was flowing into it. I lay silent, and listened. 
 
 The voice was a female's. It was soft 
 and finely modulated. Some one played 
 upon a stringed instrument. I recognised 
 the tones of the Spanish harp ; but the song 
 was French — a song of Normandy ; and the 
 words were in the language of that romantic 
 land ! I wondered at this, for my conscious- 
 ness of late events was returning ; and I 
 knew that I was far from France. 
 
 The light was streaming over my couch; 
 and, turning my face to the front, I saw 
 that the curtains were drawn aside. 
 
 I was in a large room oddly, but elegantly 
 furnished. Human figures were before me, 
 seated and standing. Some were reclining 
 upon the floor — others were seated upon 
 chairs and ottomans; and all appeared to 
 be busy with some occupation. I thought
 
 160 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 there were many figures — six or eight at 
 the least. This proved to be an illusion. 
 I found that the objects before me made du- 
 plicate impressions upon my diseased retina ; 
 and everything appeared to exist in pairs — 
 the counterparts of each other! After look- 
 ing steadily for a while, my vision became 
 more distinct and reliable; and I saw that 
 there were but three persons in the room — a 
 man and two females. 
 
 I remained silent — not certain but that 
 the scene before me was only some new 
 phase of my dream. My eyes wandered 
 from one of the living figures to another, 
 without attracting the attention of any of 
 them. 
 
 They were all in different attitudes, and 
 occupied differently. 
 
 Nearest me was a woman of middle 
 age, seated upon a low ottoman. . The 
 harp, I had heard, was before her; and 
 she continued to play. She must have 
 been, I thought, when young, a woman
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS 161 
 
 • 
 
 of extreme beauty. She was still beautiful 
 in a certain sense. The noble features were 
 there, though I could perceive that they 
 had been scathed by more than ordinary 
 suffering of the mind. The silken surface 
 had yielded to care as well as time. 
 
 She was a Frenchwoman — an ethnologist 
 could have told that at a glance. Those 
 lines — the characteristics of her highly- gifted 
 race — were easily traceable. I thought 
 there was a time when that face had witched 
 many a heart with its smiles. There were 
 no smiles on it now, but a deep yet intellec- 
 tual expression of melancholy. This I per- 
 ceived too in her voice — in her song — in 
 every note that vibrated from the strings of 
 the instrument. 
 
 My eye wandered farther. A man of 
 more than middle age stood by the table, 
 near the centre of the room. His face was 
 turned towards me ; and its nationality was 
 as easily determined as that of the lady.
 
 162 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 * 
 
 The high florid cheeks — the broad front — 
 the prominent chin — the small green cap, 
 with its long peak and conical croAvn — the 
 blue spectacles — were all characteristics. 
 He was a German. It was a face not intel- 
 lectual in its expression; yet have men, 
 "svith such a physiognomy, given proofs 
 of intellectual research in every depart- 
 ments of science and art — research deep 
 and wonderful, with ordinary talents and ex- 
 traordinary labour. Labour Herculean that 
 knot's no wearying. Pelion piled on Ossa. 
 I thought of this as I scanned the features 
 of the man. 
 
 His occupation was also characteristic 
 of his nationality. Before him were strewed 
 over the table, and upon the floor, the objects 
 of his study — plants and shrubs of various 
 species. He was busy with these — classify- 
 ing, and carefully laying them out between 
 the leaves of his portfolio. It was evident 
 that the old man was a botanist.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 163 
 
 A glance to tlie right, and the naturalist 
 and his labours were no lonoi:er reorarded. 
 I was looking upon the loveliest object that 
 ever came before my eyes; and my heart 
 bounded within me, as I strained forward in 
 the intensity of its admiration. The Iris on 
 the summer shower — the rosy dawn — the 
 brilliant hues of the bird of Juno — are bright 
 soft things. Blend them — blend all the beau- 
 ties of nature in one harmonious whole — and 
 there ^vill still be wanting that mysterious 
 essence, that enters the heart of the be- 
 holder, while gazing upon the loveliness of 
 the female form. 
 
 Of all created things, there is none so 
 fair — none so lovely — as a lovely woman ! 
 
 Yet it was not a woman that held my gaze 
 captive, but a child — a girl — a maid — stand- 
 ing upon the threshold of womanhood — 
 ready to cross it at the first summons of 
 Love ! 
 
 Men call beauty an arbitrary thing — a
 
 164 THE SCALP-PIUNTERS. 
 
 fancy, — a caprice, — a fashion — that to which 
 we are used. How often do we hear this 
 hackneyed opinion, while he, who utters it, 
 revels in the conceit of his own wisdom ? 
 " Every eye forms its own beauty." A 
 false and shallow sophism. We might as well 
 declare that every tongue forms its own 
 taste. Is honey sweet? Is wormwood 
 bitter? Yes — in both cases — sweet, and 
 bitter — to the child or the man — to the 
 savage or the civilized — to the ignorant 
 and the educated. This is true under 
 all circumstances, unless indeed, where 
 caprice, habit or fashion, form the ecc- 
 ception. Why then deny to one sense 
 what all the others so palpably possess? 
 Has not the human eye, in its natural state, 
 its likes and its dislikes? It has; and the 
 laws that regulate them are as fixed and 
 unerring as the orbits of the stars. We do 
 not know these laws — but that they exist 
 we know; and can prove it as clearly as
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 165 
 
 Leverrier determined the existence of Nep- 
 tune — a world within reach of telescopic 
 vision — yet wheeling for millions of years un- 
 detected by the sleepless sentinels of as- 
 tronomy ! 
 
 Why does the eye rove with delight 
 around the outlines of the circle ? along the 
 curve of the ellipse? of every section of the 
 cone? Why does it roam transported 
 along the line of Hogarth? Why does it 
 grieve when this line is broken? Ah! 
 These are its likes and its dislikes — its 
 sweets and its bitters — its honey and its 
 wormwood. 
 
 Beauty, then, is not an arbitrary thing. 
 The fancy — the conventionalism — is not in 
 the object, but in the eye of the gazer — the 
 eye uneducated, vulgar, or perchance dis- 
 torted by fashion. Forms and colours are 
 beautiful, independently of all opinions re- 
 garding them. 
 
 There is still a higher point which may 
 be established in connection with this
 
 166 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 theory — an intellectual cause can be 
 assigned, why an object is beautiful or 
 otherwise. Intellect has its forms and 
 shapes in the physical world. It dwells 
 in beauty, notwithstanding the many appa- 
 rent contradictions. Ugliness, — hideous 
 word, — must exert itself to obtain what 
 beauty commands without an effort. Hence 
 you see distinction — the presumptive proof 
 of intellectual greatness — so often coupled 
 with physical plainness. Hence the homely 
 histrionic artiste — hence the female biblio- 
 grapher — hence the " hluey On the other 
 hand, beauty sits enthroned like a queen or 
 a Goddess. She makes no effort, because 
 she feels not the necessity. The world 
 approaches, at her slightest summons, and 
 spreads its offerings at her feet ! 
 
 These thoughts did not all pass through 
 my mind — though some of them did — 
 while my eyes, delighted, revelled along the 
 graceful curves that outlined the beautiful
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 167 
 
 being before me. I thought, I had seen the 
 face somewhere. I had — but a moment 
 before— while looking upon that of the elder 
 lady. They were the same face — using a 
 figure of speech, — the type transmitted from 
 mother to daughter. The same high front, 
 and facial angle — the same outline of the nose, 
 straight as a ray of light, with the delicate 
 spiral- like curve of the nostril, which meets 
 you in the Greek medallion. Their hair too 
 was alike in colour, golden ; though, in that 
 of the mother, the gold showed an enamel 
 of silver. The tresses of the girl were 
 like sunbeams, straying over a neck and 
 shoulders, that, for delicate whiteness, might 
 have been chiseled from the stones of 
 Carrara. 
 
 All this may seem high language — figura- 
 tive — if you will. I can neither write nor 
 speak otherwise on this theme. I will 
 desist, and spare details, which, to you may 
 be of little interest. In return, do me the
 
 168 THE SCALP'HUNTERS. 
 
 favour to believe, that the being, who im- 
 pressed me then and for ever, was beautiful 
 — was lovely. 
 
 " Ah ! it wod be ver moch kindness if 
 Madame and Ma'm'selle wod play le Marseil- 
 laise — le grand Marseillaise. What say 
 mine lieber freilen?" 
 
 " Zoe, Zoe ! " take thy bandolon. Yes, 
 Doctor ; we will play it for you with plea- 
 sure. You like the music? So do we. 
 Come Zoe!" 
 
 The young girl, who, up to this time, had 
 been watching intently the labours of the 
 naturalist, glided to a remote corner of the 
 room ; and, taking up an instrument resem- 
 bling the guitar, returned and seated herself 
 by her mother. The bandolon was soon 
 placed in concert with the harp ; and the 
 strings of both vibrated to the thrilling 
 notes of the " Marseillaise." 
 
 There was something exceedingly grace- 
 ful in the performance. The instrumenta-
 
 THE SCALP- HUNTERS. 169 
 
 tion, as I thought, was perfect ; and the 
 voices of the players accompanied it in a 
 sweet and spirited harmony. As I gazed upon 
 the girl Zoe — her features animated by the 
 thrilling thoughts of the anthem — her whole 
 countenance radiant with light — she seemed 
 some immortal being — a young goddess of 
 liberty, calling her children " to arms !" 
 
 The botanist had desisted from his labours ; 
 and stood hstenino; with delio^hted attention. 
 At each return of the thrilling invocation 
 '' Aux armes^ citoyens!^^ the old man snap- 
 ped his fingers, and beat the floor with his 
 feet, marking the time of the music. He 
 was fiUed with the same spirit, which at 
 that time over all Europe, was gathering to 
 its crisis ! 
 
 "Where am I? French faces — French 
 music — French voices, and the conversation 
 in French ! " for the botanist addressed the 
 females in that language, though with a 
 strong Rhenish patois^ that confirmed my 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 first impressions of his nationality. '* Where 
 ami?" 
 
 My eye ran around the room in search of 
 an answer. I could recognise the furni- 
 ture. The cross-legged Campeachy chairs — 
 a rebozo — the palm-leaf jpetate — " Ha — 
 Alp!" 
 
 The dog lay stretched along the matrass 
 near my couch, and sleeping. 
 
 " Alp ! Alp ! " 
 
 " Oh ! mama — mama — ecoutez ! the stran- 
 ger calls." 
 
 The dog sprang to his feet ; and, throwing 
 his fore-paws upon the bed, stretched his 
 nose toward me, with a joyous whimpering. 
 I reached out my hand, and patted him, 
 at the same time giving utterance to some 
 expressions of endearment. 
 
 " Oh ! mama — mama ! he knows him — 
 voila!" 
 
 The lady rose hastily, and approached the 
 bed. The German seized me by the wrist,
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 171 
 
 pushing back the San Bernard, who was 
 bounding to spring upward. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! he is well. His eyes, Doc- 
 tor. How changed ! '^ 
 
 "Ya — ya — moch better — ver moch bet- 
 ter. Hush — away tog ! Keep away, mine 
 goot tog ! '^ 
 
 " Who — where — tell me, where am I — 
 who are you ? '* 
 
 " Do not fear — we are friends — you have 
 been iU." 
 
 " Yes — yes — we are friends — you have 
 been ill, sir. Do not fear us — we will 
 watch you. This is the good Doctor. This 
 is mama, and I am — " 
 
 " An angel from Heaven — beautiful Zoe !" 
 
 The child looked at me with an expres- 
 sion of wonder ; and blushed, as she said : — 
 
 " Hear mama ! He knows my name ! " 
 
 It was the first compliment she had ever 
 received from the lips of love. 
 
 " It is goot, Madame — he is ver moch re- 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 lieft — he ver soon get over now. Keep 
 away, mine goot Alp ! Your master he 
 get well ; goot tog, down! " 
 
 '^ Perhaps, Doctor, we should leave him — 
 the noise — " 
 
 " No, no ! if you please stay with me — 
 the music — ^will you play again ? " 
 
 " Yes, the music is ver goot— ver goot 
 for te prain." 
 
 " Oh! mama; let us play then." 
 
 Both mother and daughter, took up their 
 instruments, and again commenced playing. 
 
 I listened to the sweet strains, watching 
 the fair musicians a long while. My eyes 
 at length became heavy; and the reali- 
 ties before me changed into the soft outlines 
 
 of a dream. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 My dream, was broken by the abrupt ces- 
 sation of the music. I thought I heard, 
 through my sleep, the opening of a door. 
 When I looked to the spot, lately occupied
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 173 
 
 by the musicians, I saw that they were 
 gone ! The bandolon had been thrown 
 down upon the ottoman, where it lay, but 
 she was not there ! 
 
 I could not, from my position, see the 
 whole of the apartment ; but I knew that 
 some one had entered at the outer door. I 
 heard expressions of welcome and endear- 
 ment — a rustling of dresses — the words 
 " papa," " my little Zoe,'^ the latter uttered 
 in the voice of a man. Then followed some 
 explanations in a lower tone, which I could 
 not hear. 
 
 A few minutes elapsed, and I lay silent and 
 listening. Presently, there were footsteps 
 in the hall. A boot, with its jingling 
 rowels, struck upon the tiled floor. The 
 footsteps entered the room, and approached 
 the bed. I started, as I looked up. The 
 Scalp-hunter teas before me !
 
 174 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SEGUIN. 
 
 " You are better — you will soon be well 
 again. I am glad to see that you recover.'^ 
 
 He said this without offering his hand. 
 
 " I am indebted to you for my life. Is it 
 not so ? " 
 
 It is strange that I felt convinced of this, 
 the moment that I set my eyes upon the 
 man. I think such an idea crossed my 
 mind before — after awaking from my long 
 dream. Had I encountered him in my 
 struggles for water ? or had I dreamed it ?
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 175 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered he, with a smile, 
 " but you will remember, that I had some- 
 thing to do with your being exposed to the 
 risk of losing it." 
 
 " Will you take this hand ? "Will you 
 forgive me?" 
 
 After all, there is something selfish, even 
 in gratitude. How strangely had it changed 
 my feelings towards this man ! I was beg- 
 ging the hand, which, but a few days before, 
 in the pride of my morality, I had spurned 
 from me as a loathsome thing. 
 
 But there were other thoughts that in- 
 fluenced me. The man before me was the 
 husband of the lady — was the father of Zoe. 
 His character — his horrid calling were for- 
 gotten ; and, the next moment our hands were 
 joined in the embrace of friendship ! 
 
 " I have nothing to forgive. I honour the 
 sentiment that induced you to act as you 
 did. This declaration may seem strange to 
 you. From what you knew of me, you acted
 
 176 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 rightly ; but there may be a time, sir, when 
 you will know me better — when the deeds, 
 which you abhor, may seem to you not only 
 pardonable, but justifiable. Enough of this 
 at present. The object of my being now at 
 your bedside, is to request that what you do 
 hnow of me, be not uttered here ! " 
 
 His voice sank to a whisper as he said 
 this — pointing, at the same time, towards 
 the door of the room. 
 
 '' But how," I asked, wishing to draw tis 
 attention from this unpleasant theme, "how 
 came I in this house? It is yours, I per- 
 ceive. How came I here ? Where did you 
 find me?" 
 
 "In no very safe position," answered he, 
 with a smile. " I can scarcely claim the 
 merit of saving you. Your noble horse you 
 may thank for that." 
 
 *'Ah! my horse — my brave Moro ! I 
 have lost him. " 
 
 " Your horse is standing at the maize-
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 177 
 
 trough, not ten paces from where you lie. 
 I think you will find him in somewhat better 
 condition, than when you last saw him. 
 Your mules are without. Your packs are 
 safe. You will find them here," and he 
 pointed to the foot of the bed." 
 
 " And ?" 
 
 " Gode you would ask for," said he, in- 
 terrupting me. " Do not be uneasy on his 
 account. He, too, is in safety. He is ab- 
 sent just now, but will soon return." 
 
 " How can I thank you ? This is good 
 news indeed. My brave Moro! and Alp 
 here ! But how — you say my horse saved 
 me. He has done so before ; how can this 
 be?" 
 
 "Simply thus. We found you, many 
 miles from this place, on a cliff that overlooks 
 the Del Norte. You were hanging over on 
 your lazo, that, by a lucky accident, had 
 become entangled around your body. One 
 end of it was knotted to the bit-ring, and 
 
 i3
 
 178 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 the noble animal, thrown back on his 
 haunches, sustained your weight upon his 
 neck!" 
 
 " Noble Moro ! what a terrible situation! " 
 
 " Aye, you may say that. Had you fallen 
 from it, you would have passed through a 
 thousand feet of air, before striking the rocks 
 below. It was indeed a fearful situation." 
 
 ^' I must have staggered over in my search 
 for water." 
 
 " In your delirium, you walked over. 
 You would have done so a second time, had 
 we not prevented you. When we drew you 
 up on the cliff, you struggled hard to get 
 back. You saw the water below, but not 
 the precipice. Thirst is a terrible thing — 
 an insanity of itself" 
 
 " I remember something of all this. I 
 thought it had been a dream." 
 
 '^Do not trouble your brain with these 
 things. The doctor here admonishes me to 
 leave you. I have an object, as I have
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 179 
 
 said." Here a sad expression passed over 
 the countenance of the speaker, " else I 
 should not have paid you this visit. I 
 have not many moments to spare. To-night 
 I must be far hence. In a few days I will 
 return. Meanwhile, compose yourself, and 
 get well. The doctor here will see that you 
 want for nothing. My wife and daughter 
 will nurse you." 
 
 '^Thanks! thanks!" 
 
 " You will do well to remain where you 
 are, until your friends return from Chihua- 
 hua. They will pass not far from this place ; 
 and I will warn you when they are near. You 
 are a student. There are books here, in 
 different languages. Amuse yourself. They 
 will give you music. Monsieur, adieu !" 
 
 " Stay, sir ! one moment. You seem to 
 have taken a strange fancy to my horse?" 
 
 " Ah ! monsieur, it was no fancy — but I 
 will explain that at some other time. Per- 
 haps the necessity no longer exists."
 
 180 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 "Take him if you will. Another will 
 serve my purpose.'' 
 
 " No, monsieur. Do you think I could 
 rob you of what you esteem so highly, and 
 with such just reason too. No, no. Keep 
 the good Moro. I do not wonder at your 
 attachment to the noble brute." 
 
 " You say that you have a long journey 
 to-night. Then, take him for the time." 
 
 " That offer I will freely accept ; for, in- 
 deed, my own horse is somewhat jaded. I 
 have been two days in the saddle. Well — 
 adieu ! 
 
 " Seguin pressed my hand^ and walked 
 away. I heard the ^'chink-chink" of his 
 spurs, as he crossed the apartment ; and the 
 next moment the door closing behind him. 
 
 I was alone ; and lay listening to every 
 sound that reached me from without. In 
 about half an hour after he had left me, I 
 heard the hoof-strokes of a horse, and saw 
 the shadow of a horseman passing outside the
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 181 
 
 window. He had departed on his journey 
 — doubtless on the performance of some red 
 duty connected with his fearful vocation ! 
 
 I lay for a while, harassed in mind, 
 thinking of this strange man. Then sweet 
 voices interrupted my meditations ; before 
 me appeared lovely faces ; and the scalp - 
 hunter was forgotten.
 
 182 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 I WOULD compress the history of the ten 
 days following into as many words. I 
 would not weary you with the details of my 
 love — a love that, in the short space of a 
 few hours, became a passion deep and ardent ! 
 
 I was young at the time — at just such an 
 age as to be impressed by the romantic 
 incidents that surrounded me, and had 
 thrown this beautiful being in my way — at 
 that age, when the heart, unguarded by cold 
 calculations of the future, yields unresist-
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 183 
 
 ingly to the electrical impressions of love. 
 I say electrical. I believe that, at this age, 
 the sympathies that spring up between heart 
 and heart, are purely of this nature. 
 
 At a later period of life, that power is 
 dissipated, and divided. Keason rules it. 
 We become conscious of the capability of 
 transferring our affections, for they have 
 already broken faith; and we lose that 
 sweet confidence that comforted the loves of 
 our youth. We are either imperious or 
 jealous, as the advantages appear in our 
 favour, or against us. A gross alloy enters 
 into the love of our middle life; sadly 
 detracting from the divinity of its character. 
 
 I might call that, I then felt, my first real 
 passion. I thought I had loved before, but 
 no ; it was only a dream — the dream of the 
 village schoolboy, who saw heaven in the 
 bright eyes of his coy classmate ; or perhaps, 
 at the family pic-nic, in some romantic dell, 
 had tasted the rosy cheek of his pretty cousin.
 
 184 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 I grew strong ; and with a rapidity that 
 surprised the skilful man of herbs. Love 
 fed and nourished the fire of life. The will 
 often efi'ects the deed, and say as you may, 
 volition has its power upon the body. The 
 wish to be well — to live — an object to live 
 for, are often the speediest restoratives. 
 They were mine. 
 
 I grew stronger, and rose from my couch. 
 A glance at the mirror told me that my 
 colour was returning. 
 
 Instinct teaches the bird, while wooing his 
 mate, to plume his pinions to their highest 
 gloss ; and a similar feeling now rendered 
 me solicitous about my toilet. My port- 
 manteau was ransacked — my razors drawn 
 forth — the beard disappeared from my chin 
 — and my moustache was trimmed to its 
 wonted dimensions. 
 
 I confess all this. The world had told 
 me I was not ill-looking, and I believed what 
 it said. I am mortal in my vanities. Are 
 not you?
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 185 
 
 With her — Zoe — child of nature in its 
 most perfect innocence — there were no such 
 conceits. The trickery of the toilet never 
 entered into her thoughts. She knew not 
 of the graces which had been so lavishly 
 bestowed upon her. No one had ever told 
 her of her beauty. I had learned the strange 
 fact, that, except her father, the old botanist, 
 and the Pueblo peons — the servants of the 
 house— I was the only person of my sex she 
 had ever seen, since a very early period of her 
 life ! For years had she and her mother lived 
 in the seclusion of their own home — a seclu- 
 sion as complete as that of a convent. There 
 was a mystery in all this ; and it was only 
 afterwards that it was revealed to me. 
 
 Hers, then, was a virgin heart — pure and 
 spotless. A heart into whose soft dreams 
 the light of love had not yet flung its ray — 
 against whose holy innocence love's god had 
 not yet winged a single arrow ! 
 
 Are you of my sex? Have you ever
 
 186 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 desired to become the lord of a heart like 
 this ? If you can answer these interro- 
 gations in the affirmative, then do I tell 
 you — what you may well remember — that 
 any exertions you made to attain this end were 
 idle. You were loved at once, or never ! 
 
 The virgin heart is not gained by the 
 finesse of courtship. It has no half-way 
 likings, that may yield to tender assiduity 
 on your part. An object either attracts or 
 repels it ; and the impression is quick as the 
 lightning's flash. It is the throwing of a 
 die; you have won or you have won not. 
 If the latter, you may as well desist. No 
 effort can overcome the obstacle, and produce 
 the emotion of love. Friendship you may 
 gain — ^love never. No coquetry of yours 
 can make that heart jealous ; no favours 
 you may bestow can cause it to love you. 
 You may conquer worlds, yet not control 
 its secret and silent throbbings. You may 
 be the hero of a thousand tongues, yet he, 
 whose image has been flung into that little
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 187 
 
 heart, will be its hero, higher and nobler 
 than all others ! That fair young creature, 
 — its owner — will be wholly his, however 
 humble, however worthless lie may be. 
 With her there will be no reservation, no 
 reasoning, no caution, no cunning. She 
 will yield alone to the mystic promptings of 
 nature. Under their influence, she will 
 bind her whole heart to the altar, even when 
 she knows that he will make it a bleeding 
 sacrifice ! 
 
 Is it thus with the heart more matured — 
 oft assailed? with the belle? the coquette? 
 No. Rejected here, you need not despair. 
 You may have qualities, en 'perdu^ that will 
 change the frown to a smile. You may do 
 great deeds. You may achieve renown ; 
 and the scorn, that once repelled you, may 
 become humility at your feet. Still this 
 may be love — and strong love too — founded , 
 upon the admiration of some intellectual, 
 or, perhaps, physical quality which you have
 
 188 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 thus proved yourself possessed of. It is a 
 love guided by reason, and not the mysterious 
 instinct that rules the former. On which 
 of these loves do men build the highest 
 triumph ? Of which are they most proud ? 
 Of the latter? Alas ! no ; and let Him who 
 made us answer why ; but / never saw the 
 man^ who would not rather he beloved for the 
 beauties of his person than the excellences of 
 his mind ! You may blame me for this de- 
 claration. You may deny it. It is true. 
 Oh ! there is no joy so sweet, no triumph so 
 thrilling, as when we have drawn to our 
 bosom the quivering little captive, whose 
 heart throbs with the pure pulsations of a 
 maiden love ! 
 
 These are after thoughts. I was, at the 
 time I am writing about, too young to have 
 reasoned thus, too little skilled in love's 
 diplomacy ; and yet, many a process of 
 reasoning passed through my mind, and 
 many a scheme was devised, to enable me to 
 discover whether I was then beloved.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 189 
 
 There was a guitar in the house. I had 
 learnt in my college days to touch the 
 strings, and its music delighted both Zoe 
 and her mother. I sang to them the songs 
 of my own land, songs of love ; and with a 
 throbbing heart watched whether the burning 
 words produced any impression upon her. 
 More than once, I have laid aside the in- 
 strument with feelings of disappointment. 
 
 From day to day, strange reflections passed 
 through my mind. Could it be that she 
 was too young to understand the import of 
 the word love? too young to be inspired 
 with a passion? She was but twelve years 
 of age ; but then she was the child of a 
 sunny clime ; and I had often seen at that 
 age, under the warm sky of Mexico, the 
 wedded bride, the fond mother! 
 
 Day after day, we were together alone. 
 The botanist was busy with his studies, and 
 the silent mother occupied with the duties 
 of her household. 
 
 Love is not blind. It may be to all the
 
 190 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 world beside; but to its own object it is 
 
 watchful as the Argus. 
 
 * * # * 
 
 I was skilled in the use of the crayon ; 
 and I amused my companion by sketches 
 — upon scraps of paper, and the blank 
 leaves of her music. Many of these were 
 the figures of females, in dilFerent attitudes 
 and costumes. In one respect they re- 
 sembled each other — their faces were alike ! 
 
 The child, without divining the cause, 
 had noticed this peculiarity in the drawings. 
 "Why is it?" she asked one day, as we 
 sat together. " These ladies are all in differ- 
 ent costumes — of different nations, are they 
 not? — and yet there is a resemblance in their 
 faces ! They have all the same features ; in- 
 deed, exactly the same, I think." 
 
 " It is your face, Zoe. I can sketch no 
 other." 
 
 She raised her large eyes, and bent them 
 upon me with an expression of innocent 
 wonder. Was she blushing? No !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 191 
 
 "Is that like me?" 
 
 " It is, as nearly as I can make it." 
 
 "And why do you not sketch other faces?" 
 
 " Why ! because I — Zoe, I fear you would 
 not understand me." 
 
 " Oh ! Enrique, do you think me so bad 
 a scholar? Do I not understand all that 
 you tell me of the far countries where you 
 have been ? Surely I may comprehend this 
 as weU?" 
 
 " I will tell you, then, Zoe.'* 
 
 I bent forward, with a burning heart and 
 trembling voice. 
 
 *^ It is because — your face is ever before 
 me — I can paint no other. It is — that — 
 I love yoUj Zoe,^^ 
 
 "Oh! is that the reason? And w^ien 
 you love one, their face is always before 
 you, whether they themselves be present or 
 DO? is it not so?" 
 
 " It is so," I replied, with a painful feeling 
 of disappointment. 
 
 " And is that la re, Enrique?"
 
 192 IHE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " It is." 
 
 '' Then must I love you ; for, wherever 
 I may be, I can see your face — how 
 plainly, before me ! If 1 could use this 
 pencil as you, I am sure I could paint it, 
 though you were not near me ! What then ? 
 Do you think I love you^ Enrique?" 
 
 No pen could trace my feelings at that 
 moment. We were seated ; and the sheet, on 
 which were the sketches, was held jointly 
 between us. My hand wandered over its 
 surface, until the unresisting fingers of my 
 companion were clasped in mine. A wilder 
 emotion followed the electric touch — the 
 paper fell upon the floor— and with a proud, 
 but trembling heart, I drew the yielding 
 form to mine ! 
 
 There was no resistance. Our lips met. 
 in the first kiss — a kiss of reciprocal love. 
 I felt her heart throb and flutter, as she lay 
 upon my breast. joy! joy 1 I was the 
 lord of that little heart !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADE. 
 
 The house we inhabited stood in a quad- 
 rangular enclosure that sloped down to the 
 banks of the river, — the Del Norte. This 
 enclosure was a garden, or shrubbery, 
 guarded on all sides by high thick walls of 
 adobe. Along the summit of these walls 
 had been planted rows of the cactus, that 
 threw out huge thorny limbs, forming an 
 impassable chevaux de frise. There was but 
 one entrance to the house and garden, 
 through a strong wicket gate — which, I had 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 noticed, was always shut and barred. I 
 had no desire to go abroad. The garden — a 
 large one — hitherto had formed the limit of 
 my walk; and through this, I often rambled 
 with Zoe and her mother ; but oftener with 
 Zoe alone. 
 
 There were many objects of interest about 
 the place. It was a ruin ; and the house 
 itself bore evidence of better times. It was 
 a large building in the Moro- Spanish style, 
 with flat roof (azotea), and notched parapet 
 running along the front. Here and there 
 the little stone turrets of this parapet 
 had fallen off, exhibiting evidence of neg- 
 lect and decay. 
 
 The garden bore these symptoms through- 
 out its whole extent; at the same time, 
 in its ruins you might read ample tes- 
 timony of the great care that had once 
 been bestowed upon it. Crumbling statues, 
 — dry fountains, — ruined arbours, — weed- 
 grown walks — attested its former grandeur
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 195 
 
 — its present neglect. There were many- 
 trees of singular and exotic species; but 
 there was a wilclness in the appearance of 
 their fruit and foliage ; and they had grown 
 into thickets, interlacing each other. There 
 was a free beauty however, in this very 
 wildness, that charmed one; and the sense 
 was further delighted, with the aroma of a 
 thousand flowers, that continually floated 
 upon the air. 
 
 The walls of the garden impinged upon 
 the river, and there ended; for the bank 
 was steep and vertical ; and the deep still 
 water that ran under it, formed a sufficient 
 protection on that side. 
 
 A thick grove of cotton woods fringed the 
 bank of the river; and under their shade 
 had been erected a number of seats of 
 japanned mason-work, in a style peculiar to 
 Spanish countries. There were steps cut in 
 the face of the bank, overhung with droop- 
 ing shrubs, and leading to the water's edge. 
 
 k2
 
 196 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 I had noticed a small skiff moored under the 
 willows, where these steps went down to the 
 water. 
 
 From this point only, could you see be- 
 yond the limits of the enclosure. The view 
 was magnificent, and commanded the wind- 
 ing of the Del Norte for a distance of miles. 
 
 The country outside seemed wild and un- 
 inhabited. Nearly as far as the eye could 
 range, the beautiful frondage of the cotton- 
 wood groves covered the landscape, and cast 
 its soft shadows on the river. Southward, 
 away near the horizon's edge, a single spire 
 glanced over the tops of the trees. This 
 was the church of El Paso del Norte, whose 
 vine-clad hills could be seen rising against 
 the distant background of the sky. Along 
 the east towered the Rocky Mountains — the 
 mysterious chain of the Organos, whose 
 dark summit lake, with its ebbing tides, 
 inspires the lone hunter with a superstitious 
 terror. To the west, low down and dimly
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 197 
 
 seen, were the twin ranges of the Mimbres, 
 — those mountains of gold — whose desert 
 passes rarely echo the tread of a human 
 foot. Even the reckless trapper turns aside, 
 when he approaches that unknown land, that 
 stretches northward from the Gila — the 
 land of the Apache, and the cannibal 
 Navajo! * * * * 
 
 Evening after evening, we sought the 
 grove of cottonwoods ; and, seated upon one 
 of the benches, together watched the glow- 
 ing sunset. At this time of the day we 
 were ever alone — I and my little companion. 
 
 I have called her my little companion, 
 thouo^h I thouo^ht at this time, that she had 
 suddenly grown to a larger stature, as- 
 suming the form and outlines of a woman ! 
 In my eyes, she was a child no longer. 
 Her form had become more developed- — 
 her bosom rose higher in its gentle undu- 
 lations — and her movements appeared to 
 me, womanlike and commanding. Her
 
 198 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 colour too seemed heightened; and a ra- 
 diant brilliance sported over her features. 
 The love-light, streaming from her large 
 brown eyes, added to their liquid lustre. 
 There was a change of mind and body. It 
 was the mystic transformation of love. 
 
 She was under the influence of its god ! 
 * * * * 
 
 One evening, as usual, we sat under the 
 solemn shadow of the grove. We had 
 brought with us the guitar and bandolon ; 
 but, after a few notes had been struck, the 
 music was forgotten ; and the instruments 
 lay upon the grass at our feet. We loved to 
 listen to the music of our own voices. We 
 preferred the utterance of our own thoughts, 
 to the sentiments of any song, however 
 sweet. There was music enough around 
 us — the hum of the wild bee as it bid fare- 
 well to the closing corolla — the " whoop" of 
 the gruya in the distant sedge, and the soft 
 cooing of the doves as they sat in pairs
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 199 
 
 upon the adjacent branches — like us whis- 
 pering their mutual loves. 
 
 Autumn had now painted the woods, and 
 the frondage was of every hue. The sha- 
 dows of the tall trees dappled the surface 
 of the water, as the stream rolled silently 
 on. The sun was far down, and the spire 
 of El Paso gleamed like a golden star, under 
 the parting kiss of his beams. Our eyes 
 wandered, and rested upon the ghttering 
 vane. 
 
 " The church !" half soliloquized my com- 
 panion, ^' I hardly know what it is like — it 
 is so long since I saw it." 
 
 " How long?" 
 
 " Oh ! many — many years — I was very 
 young then." 
 
 " And you have not been beyond these 
 walls since then ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes. Papa has taken us down the 
 river in the boat — mama and myself — often 
 — but not lately."
 
 200 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " And have you no wash to go abroad 
 through those gay woods ?" 
 
 "I do not desire it — I am contented 
 here." 
 
 " But will you always be contented here?' 
 
 " And why not, Enrique ? When you 
 are near me, why should I not be happy ?" 
 
 " But when—" 
 
 A dark shadow seemed to cross her 
 thoughts. Benighted with love, she had 
 never reflected on the probability of my 
 leaving her ; nor indeed had I. Her cheeks 
 became suddenly pale; and I could see the 
 agony gathering in her eyes, as she fixed 
 them upon me. But the words were out. 
 
 " — when I must leave you ? " 
 
 She threw herself on my breast with a 
 short sharp scream, as though she had been 
 stung to the heart ; and in an impassioned 
 voice, cried aloud : 
 
 " Oh ! my God — my God ! leave me ? 
 leave me? 0, you will not leave me ? You
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 201 
 
 who have taught me to love ! Enrique ! 
 why did you tell me that you loved me ? 
 yfhj did you teach me to love 1 " 
 
 " Zoe !" 
 
 "'Enrique — Enrique ! say you will not 
 leave me ? " 
 
 "Never! Zoe — I swear it — never — 
 never ! " 
 
 I fancied at this moment I heard the 
 stroke of an oar ; but the wild tumult of 
 my feelings, and the close embrace of my 
 betrothed — who in the transport of reaction 
 had twined her arms around me — pre- 
 vented me from rising to look over the 
 bank. It was the plunge of the osprey, 
 thought I ; and dismissing the thought, I 
 yielded myself to the long and rapturous 
 kiss. I was raising my head again, when 
 an object, appearing above the bank, 
 caught my eye. It was a black sombrero 
 with its golden band. I knew the wearer 
 at a glance — Seguin ! 
 
 k3
 
 202 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 In a moment, he was beside us. 
 
 " Papa ! '' exclaimed Zoe, rising up and 
 reaching forward to embrace him. 
 
 The father put her to one side — at the 
 same time tightly grasping her hand in his. 
 For a moment he remained silent, bending 
 his eyes upon me with an expression I can- 
 not depict. There was in it a mixture of 
 reproach, sorrow, and indignation. I had 
 risen to confront him, but I quailed under 
 that singular glance, and stood abashed and 
 silent. 
 
 " And this is the way you have thanked 
 me for saving your life ? A brave return, 
 good sir — what think you ? " 
 
 I made no reply. 
 
 " Sir !" continued he, in a voice trembling 
 with emotion, '^you have deeply wronged 
 me." 
 
 '' I know it not ; I have no^ wronged you.'' 
 
 " What call you this ? trifling mth my 
 child!''
 
 THE SCALP'HUNTERS. 203 
 
 "Trifling !" I exclaimed, roused to boldness 
 by the accusation. 
 
 " Aye, trifling ! Have you not won her 
 afi*ections?'^ 
 
 " I won theoi fairly." 
 
 " Pshaw ! sir. This is a child, not a 
 woman. Won them fairly ! What can she 
 know of love ?" 
 
 " Papa ! I do know love. I have felt it for 
 many days. Do not be angry with Enrique, 
 for I love him — papa — in my heart, I 
 love him !" 
 
 He turned to her, with a look of astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 *' Hear this !" he exclaimed, ** God ! my 
 child— my child!" 
 
 His voice stung me, for it was full of 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Listen, sir," I cried, placing myself 
 directly before him. "I have won the 
 afiections of your daughter. I have given 
 mine in return. I am her equal in rank, as
 
 204 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 she is mine. "What crime then have I com- 
 mitted? Wherein have I wronged you ?" 
 
 He looked at me for some moments without 
 making any reply. 
 
 "You would marry her, then?" he said 
 at length, with an evident change in his 
 manner. 
 
 " Had I permitted our love thus far, with- 
 out that intention, I should have merited 
 your reproaches. I should have been ' tri- 
 fling ' as you have said." 
 
 " Marry me !" exclaimed Zoe, with a look 
 of bewilderment. 
 
 " Listen ! poor child ! she knows not the 
 meaning of the word!" 
 
 '' Aye, lovely Zoe, I will ; else my heart, 
 like yours, will be wrecked for ever — 
 sir—" 
 
 " Come, sir, enough of this. You have 
 won her from herself — you have yet to win 
 her from me. I will sound the depth of 
 your affection. I will put you to the proof — "
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 205 
 
 " Put me to any proof!" 
 
 " We shall see — come ! let us in. Here, 
 Zoe!" 
 
 And, taking her by the hand, he led her 
 toward the house. I followed close behind. 
 
 As we passed through a clump of wild 
 orange trees, the path narrowed; and the 
 father, letting go her hand, walked on ahead. 
 Zoe was between us; and as we reached the 
 middle of the grove, she turned suddenly; 
 and, laying her hand upon mine, whispered 
 in a trembling voice ; " Enrique — tell me — 
 what is ' to inarry ? ' " 
 
 " Dearest Zoe ! not now — it is too difficult 
 to explain — another time — I — " 
 
 " Come, Zoe ! your hand, child !" 
 
 " Papa, I am coming I"
 
 206 ' THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I WAS alone with my host in the apart- 
 ment I had hitherto occupied. The females 
 had retired to another part of the house ; 
 and I noticed that Seguin, on entering, had 
 looked to the door — turning the bolt ! 
 
 What terrible proof was he going to exact 
 of my faith — of my love ? Was he about to 
 take my life? Or bind me by some fearful 
 oath — this man of cruel deeds? Dark sus- 
 picions shot across my mind ; and I sat silent, 
 but not without emotions of fear.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 207 
 
 A bottle of wine was placed between us; 
 and Seguin, pouring out two glasses, asked 
 me to drink. This courtesy assured me. 
 " But how if the wine be poi — ?" He swal- 
 lowed his own glass, before the thought had 
 fairly shaped itself. 
 
 " I am wronging him," thought I. " This 
 man, with all, is incapable of an act of 
 treachery like that." 
 
 I drank up the wine. It made me feel 
 more composed and tranquil. 
 
 After a moment's silence, he opened the 
 conversation with the abrupt interrogatory : 
 
 " What do you know of me?" 
 
 '* Your name and calling; nothing more." 
 
 " More than is guessed at here ;" and he 
 pointed significantly to the door. " Who 
 told you thus much of me?" 
 
 " A friend, whom you saw in Santa Fe." 
 
 " Ah! St. Yrain; a brave, bold man. I 
 met him once in Chihuahua. Did he tell 
 you no more of me than this ?" 
 
 " No. He promised to enter into parti-
 
 208 THE SCALP-HUNTERS* 
 
 culars concerning you, but the subject was 
 forgotten — the caravan moved on, and we 
 were separated." 
 
 " You heard, then, that I was — Seguin — 
 the scalp-hunter? that I was employed by 
 the citizens of El Paso to hunt the Apache 
 and Navajo? and that I was paid a stated 
 sum for every Indian scalp I could hang 
 upon their gates? You heard all this?" 
 
 " I did.'^ 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 I remained silent. 
 
 " Now sir," he continued, after a pause. 
 " Would you marry my daughter — the child 
 of a wholesale murderer?" 
 
 " Your crimes are not hers. She is in- 
 nocent, even of the knowledge of them, as 
 you have said. You may be a demon ; she 
 is an angel." 
 
 There was a sad expression on his counte- 
 nance, as I said this. 
 
 " Crimes — demon " — he muttered, half in 
 soliloquy. '' Aye, you may well think this —
 
 THE SCALP -HUNTERS. 209 
 
 SO judges the world. You have heard the 
 stories of the mountain men in all their red 
 exaggeration. You have heard that, during 
 a treaty, I invited a village of the Apache 
 to a banquet, and poisoned the viands — 
 poisoned the guests, man, woman, and child 
 — and then scalped them! You have heard 
 that I induced — to pull upon the drag-rope 
 of a cannon — two hundred savages, who 
 knew not its uses ; and then fired the piece, 
 loaded with grape, mowing down the row of 
 unsuspecting wretches! These, and other 
 inhuman acts, you have no doubt heard of ?" 
 
 " It is true. I have heard these stories 
 among the mountain hunters; but I knew 
 not whether to believe them." 
 
 " Monsieur, they are false, — all false and 
 unfounded." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say this. I 
 could not now believe you capable of such 
 barbarities." 
 
 " And yet, if they were true, in all their 
 horrid details, they would fall far short of
 
 210 The scalp-hunters. 
 
 the cruelties that have been dealt out by 
 the savage foe to the inhabitants of this 
 defenceless frontier. If you knew the his- 
 tory of this land for the last ten years ; its 
 massacres and its murders; its tears and its 
 burnings; its rapes and spoliations; whole 
 provinces depopulated ; villages given to 
 the flames ; men butchered on their own 
 hearths ; women — beautiful women — carried 
 into captivity to satisfy the lust of the de- 
 sert robber. Oh God! and I too have 
 sh.ared wrongs that will acquit me in your 
 eyes, perhaps in the eyes of Heaven !" 
 
 The speaker buried his face in his hands, 
 and leant forward upon the table. He was 
 evidently suffering from some painful recol- 
 lection. After a moment he resumed. 
 
 " I would have you listen to a short his- 
 tory of my life." 
 
 I signified my assent ; and after filling and 
 drinking another glass of wine, he proceeded. 
 
 " I am not a Frenchman, as men suppose. 
 I am a Creole, — a native of New Orleans.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 21 1 
 
 My parents were refugees from St. Domingo ; 
 where, after the black revolution, the bulk 
 of their fortune was confiscated by the 
 bloody Christophe. 
 
 " I was educated for a civil engineer; and, 
 in this capacity, I was brought out to the 
 mines of Mexico, by the owner of one of 
 them, who knew my father. I was young 
 at the time; and I spent several years 
 employed in the mines of Zacatecas and 
 San Luis Potosi. 
 
 " I had saved some money out of my pay; 
 and I began to think of opening upon my 
 own account. 
 
 " Rumours had long been current that 
 rich veins of gold existed upon the Gila, and 
 its tributaries. The washings had been seen, 
 and gathered in these rivers ; and the mother 
 of gold, — the milky quartz-rock cropped out 
 every where in the desert mountains of this 
 wild region. 
 
 " I started for this country with a select 
 party ; and, after traversing it for weeks, in
 
 212 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 the Mimbres mountains, near the head waters 
 of the Gila, I found the precious ore in its 
 bed. I established a mine ; and in five years 
 was a rich man. 
 
 "I remembered the companion of my youth 
 — -the gentle, the beautiful cousin, who had 
 shared my confidence, and inspired me with 
 my first passion. With me, it was first and 
 last; it was not, as is often the case under 
 similar circumstances, a transient thing. 
 Through all my wanderings I had remem- 
 bered and loved her. Had she been as true 
 to me? 
 
 " I determined to assure myself; and, leav- 
 ing my afikirs in the hands of my mayoral^ 
 I set out for my native city. 
 
 "Adele had been true; and I returned, 
 bringing her with me. 
 
 " I built a house in Valverde — the nearest 
 inhabited district to my mine. 
 
 " Valverde was then a thriving place — it is 
 now a ruin, which you may have seen in 
 your journey down.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 213 
 
 " In this place we lived for years, in the 
 enjoyment of wealth, and happiness. 1 
 look back upon these days as so many ages 
 of bliss. Our love was mutual, and ardent; 
 and we were blessed with two children, both 
 girls. The youngest resembled her mother — 
 the other, 1 have been told, was more like 
 myself. We doted, I fear too much, on these 
 pledges. We were too happy in their posses- 
 sion. 
 
 " At this time a new governor was sent to 
 Santa Fe; a man who — by his wantonness 
 and tyranny — has, since then, ruined the 
 province. There has been no act too 
 vile, no crime too dark for this human 
 monster. 
 
 " He offered fair enough at first; and was 
 feasted in the houses of the ncos through 
 the valley. As I was classed among these, 
 I was honoured with his visits, and fre- 
 quently. He resided principally at Albu- 
 querque ; and grand fetes were given at his 
 palace, to which my wife and I were invited
 
 214 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 as special guests. He in return often came 
 to our house in Yalverde, under pretence of 
 visiting the different parts of the province. 
 
 ''I discovered, at length, that his visits 
 were solely intended for my wife — to whom 
 he had paid some flattering attentions. 
 
 " I will not dwell on the beauty of Adele, 
 at this time. You may imagine that for 
 yourself ; and. Monsieur, you may assist 
 your imagination, by allowing it to dwell on 
 those graces, you appear to have discovered 
 in her daughter ; for the little Zoe is a type 
 of what her mother was. 
 
 "At the time I speak of, she was still 
 in the bloom of her beauty. The fame 
 of that beauty was on every tongue ; and had 
 piqued the vanity of the wanton tyrant. 
 For this reason I became the object of his 
 friendly assiduities. 
 
 " I had divined this ; but confiding in the 
 virtue of my wife, I took no notice of his 
 conduct. No overt act of insult as yet 
 claimed my attention.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 215 
 
 '* Returning on one occasion from a long 
 absence at the mines, Aclele informed me, 
 what, through delicacy, she had hitherto 
 concealed, of insults received from his Ex- 
 cellency at various times, but particularly 
 in a visit he had paid her during my absence. 
 
 " This was enough for Creole blood. I 
 paired to Albuquerque ; and on the public 
 piazza, in presence of the multitude, I chas- 
 tised the insulter. 
 
 " I was seized and thrown into a prison, 
 where I lay for several weeks. AYhen I was 
 freed, and sought my home again, it was 
 plundered and desolate ! The wild Navajo 
 had been there — my household gods were 
 scattered and^broken — and my child, God ! 
 my little Adele, was carried captive to the 
 mountains !" 
 
 *' And your wife? — your other child?" 
 1 inquired, eager to know the rest. 
 
 "They had escaped. In the terrible conflict 
 — for my poor peons battled bravely — my 
 wife, with Zoe in her arms, had rushed out,
 
 216 THE SCALP-IIUNTERS. 
 
 and hidden in a cave that was in the gar- 
 den. I found them in the ranche of a 
 vaquero in the woods — whither they had 
 wandered." 
 
 " And your daughter Adele — have you 
 heard aught of her since?" 
 
 " Yes — yes — I will come to that in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " My mine, at the same time, was plun- 
 dered and destroyed ; many of the workmen 
 were slaughtered before they could escape; 
 and the work itself, with my fortune, be- 
 came a ruin. 
 
 " With some of the miners, who had fled, 
 and others of Velverde, who — like me — had 
 suffered, I organised a band, and followed 
 the savage foe ; but our pursuit was vain ; 
 and we turned back, many of us broken in 
 health and heart. 
 
 *' Oh ! Monsieur, you cannot know what 
 it is to have thus lost a favourite child ! you 
 cannot understand the agony of the bereaved 
 father!"
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 217 
 
 The speaker pressed his head between his 
 hands, and remained for a moment silent. 
 His countenance bore the indications of 
 heart-rending sorrow. 
 
 " My story will soon be told up to the 
 present time. Who knows the end? 
 
 ''For years, I hung upon the frontiers of the 
 Indian country hunting for my child. I was 
 aided by a small band^ most of them unfortu- 
 nates like myself, who had lost wife or daugh- 
 ter in a similar manner. But our means 
 became exhausted, and despair wore us out. 
 The sympathies of my companions grew old 
 and cold. One after another gave up. The go- 
 vernment of New Mexico offered us no aid. 
 On the contrary, it was suspected then — 
 it is now known — that the governor himself 
 was in secret league with the Navajo chiefs. 
 He was to leave them unmolested; while 
 they, on their side, promised to plunder only 
 his enemies/ 
 
 " On learning this terrible secret, I saw 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 the hand that had dealt me the blow. Stung 
 by the disgrace I had put upon him, as well 
 as by my wife's scorn, the villain was not 
 slow to avenge himself. 
 
 " Since then, his life has been twice in my 
 power; but the taking of it would, most 
 probably, have forfeited my own ; and I 
 had objects for which to live. I may yet 
 find a reckoning day for him. 
 
 " I have said that my band melted away. 
 Sick at heart, and conscious of danger in 
 New Mexico, I left the province, and crossed 
 the Jornada to El Paso. Here for a while 
 I lived, grieving for my lost child. 
 
 " I was not long inactive. The frequent 
 forays made by the Apaches into Sonora 
 and Chihuahua had rendered the government 
 more energetic in the defence of the fron- 
 tier. The presidios were repaired and gar- 
 risoned with more efficient troops ; and a 
 band of rangers organised, whose pay was 
 proportioned to the number of scalps they 
 might send back to the settlements !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 219 
 
 "I was offered the command of this strange 
 guerilla ; and in the hope that I might yet 
 recover my child, I accepted it — I became 
 a scalp-hunter! 
 
 " It was a terrible commission ; and had 
 revenge alone been my object, it would long 
 since have been gratified. Many a deed of 
 blood have we enacted — many a scene 
 of retaliatory vengeance have we passed 
 through. 
 
 " I knew that my captive daughter was in 
 the hands of the Navajoes. I had heard so 
 at various times, from prisoners whom I had 
 taken ; but I was always crippled for want 
 of strength in men and means. Revolution 
 after revolution kept the States in poverty 
 and civil warfare ; and our interests were ne- 
 glected or forgotten. With all my exer- 
 tions, I could never raise a force sufficient 
 to penetrate that desert country north of 
 the Gila, in which lie the towns of the 
 savage Navajoes.'* 
 
 l2
 
 220 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 '' And you think 
 
 *' Patience ! I shall soon finish. My band 
 is now stronger than ever. I have received 
 certain information, by one just escaped 
 from a captivity among the Navajoes — that 
 the warriors of both tribes are about to pro- 
 ceed southward. They are mustering all 
 their strength, with the intention of making 
 a grand foray — even, as we have heard, to 
 the gates of Durango. It is my design, 
 then, to enter their country while they are 
 absent, and search for my daughter." 
 " And you think she still lives?" 
 " I know it. The same who brought 
 me this news — and who, poor fellow! has 
 left his scalp and ears behind him — saw her 
 often. She is grown up ; and is, he says, a 
 sort of queen among them; possessed of 
 strange powers and privileges. Yes — she 
 still lives ; and if it be my fortune to recover 
 her, then will this tragic scene be at end. I 
 will ffo far hence."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 221 
 
 I had listened with deep attention to the 
 strange recital. All the disgust, with which 
 my previous knowledge of this man's cha- 
 racter had inspired me, vanished from my 
 mind ; and I felt for him compassion — aye, 
 admiration. He had suffered much. Suf- 
 fering atones for crime ; and, in my sight, he 
 was justified. Perhaps I was too lenient in 
 my judgment. It was natural I should be so. 
 
 When the revelation was ended, I was 
 filled with emotions of pleasure. I felt a 
 vivid joy to know, that she was not the off- 
 spring of the demon I had deemed him. 
 
 He seemed to divine my thoughts, for 
 there was a smile of satisfaction — I might 
 say triumph — on his countenance, as he 
 leaned across the table to refill the wine. 
 
 ^' Monsieur, my story must have wearied 
 you. Drink ! " 
 
 There was a moment's silence, as we 
 emptied the glasses. 
 
 " And now, sir, you know the father of
 
 222 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 
 
 your betrothed — at least somewhat better 
 than before. Are you still in the mind to 
 marry her ? " 
 
 " 0, sir ! she is now, more than ever, to 
 me a sacred object." 
 
 " But you must win her — as I have said 
 — from me.'' 
 
 " Then, sir, tell me how. I am ready for 
 any sacrifice that may be within my power 
 to make." 
 
 " You must help me to recover her sister." 
 
 '-' Willingly." 
 
 " You must go with me to the Desert ? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Enough. We start to-morrow." And 
 he rose, and began to pace the room. 
 
 "At an early hour?" I inquired, half 
 fearing that I was about to be denied an 
 interview with her, whom I now more than 
 ever longed to embrace." 
 
 " By daybreak," he replied, not seeming to 
 heed my anxious manner.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 223 
 
 " I must look to my horse and arms," 
 said I, rising and going towards the door, 
 in hopes of meeting her without. 
 
 " They have been attended to — Gode is 
 there. Come, boy ! She is not in the hall. 
 Stay where you are. I will get the arms 
 you want. Adele! Zoe! 0, Doctor, you 
 are returned with your weeds? It is well. 
 We journey to-morrow. Adele, some coffee, 
 love ! and then let us have some music. Your 
 guest leaves you to-morrow." 
 
 The bright form rushed between us with 
 a scream ! 
 
 " No — no — no — no!" she exclaimed, turn- 
 ing from one to the other, with the wild 
 appeal of a passionate heart. 
 
 " Come, little dove," said the father, taking 
 her by the hands, ''do not be so easily 
 fluttered. It is but for a short time. He will 
 return again." 
 
 " How long, papa? How long, Enrique?" 
 
 "But a very short while. It will be 
 longer to me, than to you, Zoe."
 
 224 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 "Oh! no~no; an hour will be a long 
 time. How many hours do you think, 
 Enrique ?" 
 
 '' Oh ! We shall be gone days, I fear." 
 
 " Days ! papa ! Enrique ! days !" 
 
 **Come, little chit — they will soon pass. 
 Go! Help your mama to make the coffee." 
 
 " papa ! days — long days — they will 
 not soon pass when I am alone." 
 
 " But you will not be alone. Your 
 mama will be with you." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 And with a sigh, and an air of abstrac- 
 tion, she departed to obey the command of 
 her father. As she passed out at the door, 
 she again sighed audibly. 
 
 The doctor was a silent and wondering 
 spectator to this last scene ; and as her 
 figure vanished into the hall, I could hear 
 him muttering to himself ; 
 
 "Oja! Poor leetle freilen ! I thot as 
 mosh."
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 UP THE DEL NORT:^. 
 
 I WILL not distress you with a parting 
 scene. We were in our saddles before the 
 stars had died out, and riding along the 
 sandy road. 
 
 At a short distance from the house, the 
 path angled, striking into thick, heavy 
 timber. Here I checked my horse, allow- 
 ing my companions to pass ; and, standing 
 in the stirrup, looked back. My eye wan- 
 dered along the old grey walls, and sought 
 the azoiea. Upon the very edge of the 
 
 L 3
 
 226 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 parapet, outlined against the pale light 
 of the aurora, was the object I looked for. 
 I could not distinguish the features, but I 
 easily recognised the oval curvings of the 
 figure, cut like a dark medallion against the 
 sky. 
 
 She was standing near one of the yuca 
 palm trees that grew up from the azote a. 
 Her hand rested upon its trunk, and she bent 
 forward, straining her gaze into the dark- 
 ness below. Perhaps she saw the waving of 
 a kerchief — perhaps she heard her name, 
 and echoed the parting prayer that was sent 
 back to her on the still breath of the morn- 
 ing. If so, her voice was drowned by the 
 tread of my chafing horse, that, wheeling 
 suddenly, bore me off into the sombre sha- 
 dows of the forest. 
 
 I rode forward, turning at intervals to 
 catch a glimpse of those lovely outlines, but 
 from no other point was the houes visible. 
 It lay buried in the dark majestic woods.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 227 
 
 I could only see the long bayonets of the 
 picturesque palmillas ; and our road now 
 descending among hills, these too were soon 
 hidden from my view. 
 
 Dropping the bridle, and leaving my 
 horse to go at will, I fell into a train of 
 thoughts at once pleasant and painful. 
 
 I knew that I had imbibed the love of my 
 life — that henceforward in it all my hopes 
 would centre, and from it would spring my 
 highest motives. I had just reached man- 
 hood ; and I was not ignorant of the truth, 
 that a pure love like this is the best guide 
 to our too-erring^ natures — the best rein to 
 curb their wild wanderings. I was indebted 
 for this knowledge to him who had taught 
 me my earliest lessons; and as his experi- 
 ence had already more than once stood me 
 in stead, I believed him in this. I have since 
 proved the teaching true. 
 
 I knew that I had inspired this young 
 creature with a passion deep and ardent as
 
 228 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 my own — perhaps more vital ; for my heart 
 had passed through other affections, while 
 hei's had never throbbed with any, save 
 the subdued solicitudes of a graceful child- 
 hood. She had never known emotion. 
 Love was her first strong feeling — her first 
 passion. Would it not, thus enthroned, reign 
 over all other thoughts in her heart's king- 
 dom ? She, too, so formed for love — so like 
 its mythic goddess ! 
 
 These reflections were pleasant. But 
 the picture darkened, as I turned from 
 looking back for the last time ; and some- 
 thing whispered me — some demon it was — 
 '* You may never see her more." 
 
 The suggestion, even in this hypothetical 
 form, was enough to fill my mind with dark 
 forebodings ; and I began to cast my thoughts 
 upon the future. I was going upon no 
 party of pleasure, from which I might return 
 at a fixed hour. Dangers were before me 
 — the dangers of the Desert ; and I knew
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 229 
 
 that these were of no ordinary character. 
 In our plans of the previous night, Seguin 
 had not concealed the perils of our expe- 
 dition. These he had detailed, before ex- 
 acting my final promise to accompany him. 
 Weeks before, I would not have regarded 
 them. They would only have lured me on 
 to meet them. Now, my feelings were dif- 
 ferent, for I believed that in my life, there 
 was another's. \^Tiat then if the demon 
 has whispered truly ? I may never see her 
 more! It was a painful thought; and I 
 rode on, bent in the saddle, under the in- 
 fluence of its bitterness. 
 
 But I was once more upon the back of 
 my favourite Moro, who seemed to "know 
 his rider ;" and as his elastic body heaved 
 beneath me, my spirit answered his, and 
 began to resume its wonted buoyancy. 
 
 After awhile, I took up the reins; and, 
 shortening them in my hands, spurred on 
 after my companions. ^
 
 230 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 Our road lay up tlie river, crossing tlie 
 shallow ford at intervals, and winding 
 through the bottom-lands, that were heavily 
 timbered. The path was difficult on account 
 of the thick underwood; and although the 
 trees had once been " blazed" for a road, 
 there were no signs of late travel upon it, with 
 the exception of a few solitary horse-tracks. 
 The country appeared wild and uninhabited. 
 This was evident, from the frequency with 
 which deer and antelope swept across our 
 path, or sprang out of the underwood close 
 to our horses' heads. Here and there, our 
 path trended away from the river, crossing 
 its numerous " loops." Several times we 
 passed large tracts where the heavy timber 
 had been felled and " clearings" had existed. 
 But this must have been long ago, for the 
 land, that had been furrowed by the plough, 
 was now covered with tangled and almost im- 
 penetrable thickets. A few broken and de- 
 caying logs, or crumbling walls of the adohe^
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 231 
 
 were all that remained to attest where the 
 settlers' " rancho" had stood. 
 
 We passed a ruined church, with its old 
 turrets dropping by piecemeal. Piles of 
 adohe lay around, covering the gi^ound for 
 acres. A thriving village had stood here. 
 Where was it now ? Where were the busy 
 gossips ? A wild cat sprang over the briar- 
 laced walls ; and made off into the forest. 
 An owl flew sluggishly up from the crum- 
 bling cupola, and hovered around our heads 
 — uttering its doleful " woo-hoo-a," that 
 rendered the desolation of the scene more 
 impressive. As w^e rode through the ruin a 
 dead stiUness surrounded us, broken only 
 by the hooting of the night-bird, and the 
 " cranch-cranch" of our horses' feet upon 
 the fragments of pottery that covered the 
 deserted streets. 
 
 But where were they who had once made 
 these walls echo with their voices? Who 
 had knelt under the sacred shadow of that
 
 232 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 once hallowed pile? They were gone; but 
 where? and when? and Avhy? 
 
 I put these questions to Seguin ; and was 
 answered thus briefly : 
 
 " The Indians." 
 
 The savage it was, with his red spear, 
 and scalping-knife— his bow and his battle- 
 axe — his brand, and his poisoned arrows. 
 
 " The Navajoes?" I inquired. 
 
 " Navajo and Apache." 
 
 " But do they come no more to this 
 place?" 
 
 A feeling of anxiety had suddenly en- 
 tered my mind. I thought of our proxi- 
 mity to the mansion we had left. I thought 
 of its unguarded walls. I waited Avith some 
 impatience for an answer. 
 
 " No more,'' was the brief reply. 
 
 " And why?" I inquired. 
 
 " This is our territory;" he answered 
 significantly." You are now, Monsieur, in 
 a country where live strange fellows, — you
 
 THE SCALP-nUNTERS. 233 
 
 shall see. Woe to the Apache, or Navajo, 
 who may stray into these woods !" 
 
 As we rode forward, the country became 
 more open; and we caught a gUmpse of high 
 bluffs trending north and south on both 
 sides of the river. These bluffs converged, 
 till the river channel appeared to be com- 
 pletely barred up by a mountain ! This 
 was only an appearance. On riding farther, 
 we found ourselves entering one of those 
 fearful gaps — canons as they are called — 
 so often met with in the table lands of 
 tropical America. 
 
 Through this the river foamed, between two 
 vast cliffs a thousand feet in height — whose 
 profiles, as you approached them, suggested 
 the idea of angry giants, separated by some 
 almighty hand, and thus left frowning at 
 each other ! It was with a feeling of awe that 
 one looked up the face of these stupendous 
 cliffs, and I felt a shuddering sensation, as 
 I neared the mighty gate between them.
 
 234 THE SCALP-HUKTERS. 
 
 " Do you see that point?" asked Seguin, 
 indicating a rock that jutted out from the 
 highest ledge of the chasm. I signified in 
 the affirmative, for the question was ad- 
 dressed to myself. 
 
 " That is the leap you were so desirous of 
 taking. We found you dangling against yon- 
 der rock." 
 
 " Good God !" I ejaculated, as my eyes 
 rested upon the dizzy eminence. My brain 
 grew giddy, as I sat in my saddle, gazing 
 upward ; and I was fain to ride onward. 
 
 " But for your noble horse," continued 
 my companion; "the doctor here would 
 have been stopping about this time to hypo- 
 thecate upon your bones. Ho! Moro! 
 beautiful Moro !" 
 
 " Oh ! mein Got ! Ya, ya !" assented the bo- 
 tanist, looking up against the precipice with 
 apparently a feeling of awe, such as I felt 
 myself. 
 
 Seguin had ridden alongside me, and was
 
 THE sa\LP-HUNTERS. 235 
 
 patting my horse on the neck, with expres- 
 sions of admiration. 
 
 " But why?" I asked, the remembrance 
 of our first interview now occurring to me, 
 " why were you so eager to possess him?" 
 
 " A fancy." 
 
 "Can I not understand it? I think you 
 said then that I could not?" 
 
 " yes, quite easily, Monsieur. I intended 
 to steal my own daughter ; and I wanted, for 
 that purpose, to have the aid of your horse." 
 
 " But how? " 
 
 '•It was before J had heard the news of 
 this intended expedition of our enemy. As 
 I had no hopes of obtaining her other- 
 wise, it was my design to have entered their 
 country alone, or with a tried comrade, and 
 by stratagem to have carried her off. Their 
 horses are swift, yet far inferior to the Arab, 
 as you may have an opportunity of seeing. 
 With such an animal as that, I would have 
 been comparatively safe, unless hemmed in or
 
 236 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 surrounded ; and even then I might have got 
 off with a few scratches. I intended to have 
 disguised myself, and entered their town as 
 one of their own warriors. I have long been 
 master of their language." 
 
 " It would have been a perilous enter- 
 prise." 
 
 " True— it was a dernier resort ; and only- 
 adopted because all other efforts had failed 
 ■ — after years of yearning, deep-craving of 
 the heart. I might have perished. It was a 
 rash thought ; but I, at that time, entertained 
 it fully." 
 
 " I hope we will succeed now." 
 
 " I have high hopes. It seems as if some 
 overruling providence was now acting in 
 my favour. This absence of her captors — 
 and besides, my band has been most oppor- 
 tunely strengthened, by the arrival of a 
 number of trappers from the eastern plains. 
 The beaver skins have fallen according to 
 their phraseology, to a ' plew a plug ;' and
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 237 
 
 they find ' red-skin' pays better. Ah ! I 
 hope this will soon be over." 
 
 And he sighed deeply as he uttered the 
 last words. 
 
 We were now at the entrance of the gorge, 
 and a shady clump of cotton woods invited 
 us to rest. 
 
 " Let us noon here," said Seguin. , 
 We dismounted, and ran our animals out 
 on their trailropes to feed. Then, seating 
 ourselves on the soft grass, we drew forth the 
 viands that had been prepared for our 
 journey.
 
 238 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GEOGRAPHY AND GEOLOGY. 
 
 We rested above an hour in the cool shade, 
 while our horses refreshed themselves 
 on the " grama" that grew luxuriantly 
 around. We conversed about the sin ovular 
 region in which we were travelling — singu- 
 lar in its geography, its geology, its botany 
 and its history — singular in all respects. 
 
 I am a traveller, as I might say, by pro- 
 fession. I felt an interest in learning some- 
 thing of the wild countries that stretched 
 for hundreds of miles around us; and I
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 239 
 
 knew there was no man living so capable 
 of being my informant, as him with whom I 
 then conversed. 
 
 My journey down the river had made me 
 but little acquainted with its features. At 
 that time as I have already related, there was 
 fever upon me; and my memory of objects 
 was as though I had encountered them in 
 some distorted dream. 
 
 My brain was now clear; and the scenes 
 through which we were passing — here soft 
 and south-like, — there wild, barren, and pic- 
 turesque— forcibly impressed my imagination. 
 
 The knowledge, too, that parts of this 
 region had once been inhabited by the fol- 
 lowers of Cortez— as many a ruin testified — 
 that it had been surrendered back to its 
 ancient and savage lords — and the inference 
 that this surrender had been brought about 
 by the enactment of many a tragic scene 
 — induced a train of romantic thought, 
 which yearned for gratification in a know- 
 ledge of the realities that gave rise to it.
 
 240 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 Seguin was communicative. His spirits 
 were high. His hopes were buoyant. The 
 prospect of again embracing his long-lost 
 child imbued him, as it were, with new life. 
 He had not, he said, felt so happy for many 
 years. 
 
 " It is true," said he, in answer to a ques- 
 tion I had put, " there is little known of this 
 whole region, beyond the boundaries of the 
 Mexican settlements. They who once had 
 the opportunity of recording its geographical 
 features, have left the task undone. They 
 were too busy in the search for gold ; and 
 their weak descendants, as you see, are too 
 busy in robbing one another to care for 
 aught else. They know nothing of the 
 country beyond their own borders ; and 
 these are every day contracting upon them. 
 All they know of it is the fact that thence 
 come their enemies, Avhom they dread, as 
 children do ghosts or wolves. 
 
 " They are now," continued Seguin, '* near
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 241 
 
 the centre of the continent — in the very 
 heart of the American Saara." 
 
 *'But/' said I, interrupting him, ^' we 
 cannot be more than a day's ride south of 
 New Mexico — that is not a desert— it is a 
 cultivated country ? " 
 
 " New Mexico is an oasis — nothing more. 
 The desert is around it for hundreds of 
 miles — nay, in some directions you may 
 travel a thousand miles from the Del Norte 
 without seeing one fertile spot. New 
 Mexico is an oasis, which owes its existence 
 to the irrigating waters of the Del Norte. 
 It is the only settlement of white men, from 
 the frontiers of the Mississippi to the shores of 
 the Pacific in California. You approached 
 it by a desert, did you not?" 
 
 " Yes. As we ascended from the Mis- 
 sissippi towards the Rocky Mountains, the 
 country became gradually more sterile. 
 For the last three hundred miles or so, we 
 could scarcely find grass or water for the 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE SCALP-HUNTERS- 
 
 sustenance of our animals. But is it thus 
 north and south of the route we travelled?" 
 '^ North and south for more than a thou- 
 sand miles — from the plains of Texas to the 
 lakes of Canada, along the whole base of 
 the Rocky Mountains — and half way to 
 the settlements on the Mississippi. It is 
 a treeless, herbless land." 
 
 "To the west of the mountains?" 
 " Fifteen hundred miles of desert — that is 
 its length, by at least half as many miles of 
 breadth . The country to the west is of a 
 different character. It is more broken in 
 its outlines, more mountainous, and, if pos- 
 sible, more sterile in its aspect. The volcanic 
 fires have been more active there ; and 
 though that may have been thousands of 
 years ago, the igneous rocks in many places 
 look as if freshly upheaved. No vegeta- 
 tion — no climatic action has sensibly changed 
 the hues of the lava and scoriae that in some 
 places cover the plains for miles. I say no
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 243 
 
 climatic action, for there is but little of that 
 in this central region.'* 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " What I mean is, that there is but little 
 atmospheric change. It is one uniform 
 drought ; it seldom storms or rains. I know 
 some districts where a drop of rain has not 
 fallen for years." 
 
 " And can you account for that pheno- 
 menon?" 
 
 " I have my theory. It may not satisfy 
 the learned meteorologist, but I will offer 
 it to you." 
 
 I listened with attention, for I knew that 
 my companion was a man of science, as of 
 experience and observation ; and subjects, 
 of the character of those about which we 
 conversed, had always possessed great in- 
 terest for me. He continued ; 
 
 " There can be no rain without vapour in 
 the air. There can be no vapour in the air, 
 without water on the earth below to pro- 
 lyl 2
 
 244 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 duce it. Here there is no great body of 
 water. 
 
 " Nor can there be. The whole reojion of 
 the desert is upheaved — an elevated table- 
 land. We are now nearly 6,000 feet above 
 V sea level. Hence its springs are few ; and, by 
 hydraulic law, must be fed by its own waters, 
 or those of some region still more elevated, 
 which does not exist on the continent. 
 
 '' Could I create vast seas in this region, 
 walled in by the lofty mountains that 
 traverse it— and such seas existed conse- 
 quent to its formation— could I create those 
 seas, without giving them an outlet, not 
 even allowing the smallest rill to drain 
 them — in process of time, they would empty 
 themselves into the ocean, and leave every 
 thing as it now is — a desert." 
 
 "But how? by evaporation?" 
 
 " On the contrary, the absence of evapo- 
 ration would be the cause of their drainage ! 
 I believe it has been so."
 
 TflE SCALP-HUNTERS- 245 
 
 " I cannot understand that." 
 
 "It is simply thus. This region pos- 
 sesses, as we have said, great elevation ; 
 consequently a cool atmosphere, and 
 a much less evaporating power than that 
 which draws up the water of the ocean. 
 Now there would be an interchange of 
 vapour between the ocean, and these ele- 
 vated seas, by means of winds and currents — 
 for it is only by that means that any water 
 can reach this interior plateau. That inter- 
 chanofe would result in favour of the inland 
 seas, by reason of their less evaporation, as 
 well as from other causes. We have not time, 
 or I could demonstrate such a result. I beg 
 you will admit it, then ; and reason it out at 
 your leisure." 
 
 " I perceive the truth : I perceive it at 
 once." 
 
 " WTiat follows, then ? These seas would 
 gradually fill up to overflowing. The first 
 little rivulet, that trickled forth from their 
 lipping fulness, would be the signal of their
 
 246 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 destruction. It would cut its channel over 
 the ridge of the lofty mountain, tiny at first, 
 but deepening and widening with each suc- 
 cessive shower, until, after many years — ages, 
 centuries, cycles perhaps — a great gap, such 
 as this — " here Seguin pointed to the GaJion^ 
 " and the dry plain behind it, would alone 
 exist to puzzle the geologist." 
 
 ''And you think that the plains lying 
 among the Andes and the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, are the dry beds of seas? '* 
 
 " I doubt it not. Seas formed after the 
 upheaval of the ridges that barred them 
 in — formed by rains from the ocean — at first 
 shallow ; then deepening, until they had risen 
 to the level of their mountain barriers ; and, 
 as I have described, cut their way back 
 again to the ocean." 
 
 '' But does not one of these seas still 
 exist?" 
 
 "The great Salt Lake — it does. It lies 
 north-west of us. Not only one, but a
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 247 
 
 system of lakes, springs, and rivers — both 
 salt and fresh — and these have no outlet to 
 the ocean ! They are barred in by highlands 
 and mountains of themselves, formino^ a 
 complete geographical system." 
 
 '' Does not that destroy your theory? " 
 " No. The basin, in which this pheno- 
 menon exists, is on a lower level than most 
 of the desert plateaus. Its evaporating 
 power is equal to the influx of its own rivers ; 
 and, consequently, neutralises their effect :-— 
 that is to say, in its exchange of vapour 
 with the ocean, it gives as much as it re- 
 ceives. This arises not so much from its 
 low elevation, as from the peculiar dip of 
 the mountains that guide the waters into 
 its bosom. Place it in a colder position — 
 ceteris paribus— 2ind in time it would cut the 
 canal for its own drainage. So with the 
 Caspian Sea, the Aral, and the Dead. No, 
 my friend ; the existence of the Salt Lake 
 supports my theory. Around its shores lies
 
 248 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 a fertile country ; fertile from the quick re- 
 turns of its own waters moistening it with 
 rain. It exists only to a limited extent ; and 
 cannot influence the whole region of the 
 desert, which lies parched and sterile, on 
 account of its great distance from the 
 ocean." 
 
 " But does not the vapour rising from the 
 ocean float over the desert?" 
 
 " It does^ I have said, to some extent, else 
 there would be no rain here. Sometimes 
 by extraordinary causes, such as high 
 winds, it is carried into the heart of the 
 continent in large masses. Then we have 
 storms, and fearful ones too. But, gene- 
 rally, it is only the skirt of a cloud, so to 
 speak, that reaches thus far ; and that com- 
 bined "with the proper evaporation of the 
 region itself— that is from its own spring^ 
 and rivers, yields all the rain that falls upon 
 it. Great bodies of vapour, rising from the 
 Pacific and drifting eastward, first impinge
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 249 
 
 upon the Coast range, and there deposit their 
 waters ; or perhaps they are more highly 
 heated, and, soaring above the tops of these 
 mountains, travel farther. They will be 
 intercepted a hundred miles farther on by 
 the loftier ridges of the Sierra Nevada ; and 
 carried back, as it were captive, to the o^ean, 
 by the streams of the Sacramento and San 
 Joaquin. It is only the skirt of these 
 clouds — as I have termed it — that, soaring 
 still higher, and escaping the attractive 
 influence of the Nevada, floats on, and falls 
 into the desert region. What then? No 
 sooner has it fallen, than it hurries back to 
 the sea, by the Gila and Colorado, to rise 
 again, and fertilize the slopes of the Nevada; 
 while the fragment of some other cloud 
 drifts its scanty supply over the arid uplands 
 of the interior, to be spent in rain or snow 
 upon the peaks of the Rocky Mountains. 
 Hence the source of the rivers running east 
 and west ; and hence the oases — such as the 
 
 m3
 
 250 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " parks " that lie among these mountains. 
 Hence the fertile valleys upon the Del Nort6, 
 and other streams that thinly meander 
 through this central land. 
 
 Vapour-clouds, from the Atlantic, un- 
 dergo a similar detention in crossing the 
 Alleghany range ; or cooling — after having 
 circled a great distance round the globe — 
 descend into the valleys of the Ohio and 
 Mississippi. From all sides of this great 
 continent, as you approach its centre, fer- 
 tility declines ; and only from the want of 
 water. The soil in many places, where there 
 is scarcely a blade of grass to be seen, pos- 
 sesses all the elements of vegetation. So 
 the Doctor here will tell you ; he has ana- 
 lysed it." 
 
 " Ya! ya! dat ish true," quietly affirmed 
 the Doctor. 
 
 '' There are many oases," continued Se- 
 guin ; '' and, where water can be used to irri- 
 gate the soil, luxuriant vegetation is the con-
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 251 
 
 sequence. You have observed this, no doubt, 
 in travelling down the river; and such was 
 the case in the old Spanish settlements on 
 the Gila/' 
 
 ^* But why were these abandoned?" I in- 
 quired, never having heard any reason as- 
 signed for the desertion of these once 
 flourishing colonies. 
 
 " Why I'' echoed Seguin, with a peculiar 
 energy ; "why ! Unless some other race than 
 the Iberian take possession of these lands, 
 the Apache, the Navajo, and the Comanche 
 — the conquered of Cortez and his con- 
 querors — will yet drive the descendants of 
 those very conquerors from the soil of 
 Mexico I Look at Sonora and Chihuahua, 
 half depopulated ! Look at New Mexico — its 
 citizens living by sufferance I living, as it 
 were, to till the land, and feed the flocks for 
 the support of their own enemies, who levy 
 their black-mail by the year ! But come ! the 
 sun tells us we must on. Come ! '' 
 
 " Mount ! we can go tlirough," continued
 
 252 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 he. *' There has been no rain lately, and the 
 water is low — otherwise we should have fif- 
 teen miles of a ride over the mountain 
 yonder. Keep close to the rocks! Follow 
 me!" 
 
 And, with this admonition, he entered 
 the Canon, followed by myself, Gode, and 
 the Doctor.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 It was still early in the evening, when 
 we reached the camp — the camp of the 
 Scalp-hunters! Our arrival was scarcely- 
 noticed. A single glance at us, as we rode 
 in amongst the men, was all the recognition 
 we received. No one rose from his seat, or 
 ceased his occupation. We were left to 
 unsaddle our horses, and dispose of them, 
 as we best might ! 
 
 I was wearied with the ride, having been 
 so long unused to the saddle. I threw my
 
 254 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 blanket on the ground ; and sat down, rest- 
 ing my back against the stump of a tree. 
 I could have slept, but the strangeness of 
 every thing around me excited my imagi- 
 nation; and, with feelings of curiosity, I 
 looked and listened. 
 
 I should call the pencil to my aid to give 
 you an idea of the scene ; and that would 
 but faintly illustrate it. A wilder and more 
 picturesque coup-d^oeil never impressed hu- 
 man vision. It reminded me of pictures, I 
 had seen, representing the bivouacks of bri- 
 gands under the dark pines of the Abruzzi. 
 
 I paint from a recollection that looks 
 back over many years of adventurous life. I 
 can give only the more salient points of the 
 picture. The petite detail is forgotten ; al- 
 though, at that time, the minutest objects 
 were things new and strange to my eye, and 
 each of them for awhile fixed my attention. 
 I afterwards grew familiar with them; and, 
 hence, they are now in my memory, as a
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 255 
 
 multitude of other things, indistinct from 
 their very distinctness ! 
 
 The camp was in a bend of the Del Nort^ — 
 in a glade— surrounded by tall cotton woods — 
 whose smooth trunks rose vertically out of 
 a thick underwood of palmettos, and Spanish 
 bayonet. A few tattered tents stood in the 
 open ground; and there were skin lodges 
 after the Indian fashion. But most of the 
 hunters had made their shelter with a 
 buiFalo-robe stretched upon four upright 
 poles. There were " lairs" among the un- 
 derwood — constructed of branches, and 
 thatched with the palmated leaves of the 
 yuca, or with reeds brought from the ad- 
 jacent river. 
 
 There were paths leading out in different 
 directions, marked by openings in the foli- 
 age. Through one of these a green meadow 
 was visible. Mules and mustangs, picketed 
 on long trail-ropes, were clustered over it. 
 
 Through the camp were seen the saddles,
 
 256 THE SCALP'-HUNTERS. 
 
 bridles, and packs — resting upon stumps 
 or hanging from the branches. Guns leaned 
 against the trees; and rusted sabres hung 
 suspended over the tents and lodges. 
 Articles of camp furniture — such as pans, 
 kettles, and axes — ^littered the ground in 
 every direction. 
 
 Log fires were burning. Around them 
 sat clusters of men. They were not seeking 
 warmth, for it was not cold. They were 
 roasting ribs of venison, or smoking odd- 
 fashioned pipes. Some were scouring their 
 arms and accoutrements. 
 
 The accents of many languages fell upon 
 my ear. I heard snatches of French, Span- 
 ish, English, and Indian. The exclama- 
 tions were in character with the appearance 
 of those who uttered them. " Hilloa, Dick ! 
 hang it, old boss — what are ye 'bout?" 
 ^'Sacre! enfant de G^ce!" "Carrambo!'* 
 " Pardieu, Monsieur ! " " By the tarnal 
 airthquake ! " " Vaya ! Hombre, Yaya ! "
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 257 
 
 " Carajo !" '^ By Gosh !" " Santissima Ma- 
 ria!" "Sacr-r-re!" 
 
 It seemed as if the different nations had 
 sent representatives, to contest the supre- 
 macy of their shibboleth. 
 
 I was struck with three groups. A par- 
 ticular language prevailed in each; and 
 there was a homogeneousness about the 
 costumes of the men composing each. That 
 nearest me conversed in the Spanish lan- 
 guage. They were Mexicans. I will de- 
 scribe the dress of one, as I remember it. 
 
 Calzo7ieroSy of green velveteen. These 
 are cut after the fashion of sailor- trousers 
 — short-waist — tight round the hips, and 
 wide at the bottoms, where they are 
 strengthened by black leather, stamped and 
 stitched ornamentally. The outer seams 
 are split from hip to thigh, slashed with 
 braid, and set with rows of silver castle- 
 stops. These seams are open — for the even- 
 ing is warm — and underneath appear the
 
 258 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 ccdzoncillos of white muslin, hanging in wide 
 folds around the ankles. The boot is of calf- 
 skin, tanned, but not blackened. It is red- 
 dish, rounded at the toe, and carries a spur 
 at least a pound in weight, with a rowel 
 three inches in diameter ! The spur is curi- 
 ously fashioned, and fastened to the boot 
 by straps of stamped leather. Little bells 
 — campanulas — hang from the teeth of the 
 rowels, and tinkle at the slightest motion of 
 the foot ! Look upward. The cakoneros are 
 not braced, but fastened at the waist by a 
 silken sash or scarf. It is scarlet. It is 
 passed several times around the body, and 
 made fast behind ; where the fringed ends 
 hang gracefully over the left hip. There is no 
 vest. A jacket of dark cloth, embroidered 
 and tightly fitting ; short behind — a la Grec 
 — leaving the shirt to puff out over the scarf. 
 The shirt itself, with its broad collar and 
 flowered front, exhibits the triumphant skill 
 of some dark-eyed pohlana. Over all this,
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 259 
 
 is the broad-brimmed shadowy sombrero— a 
 heavy hat of black glaze, with its thick band 
 of silver bullion. There are tags of the 
 same metal, stuck in the sides— giving it an 
 appearance altogether unique. Over one 
 shoulder is hanging— half folded— the pic- 
 turesque serape, A belt and pouch— an 
 escopette upon which the hand is resting — 
 a waist-belt with a pair of small pistols stuck 
 under it — a long Spanish knife suspended 
 obliquely across the left hip — complete the 
 tout ensemble of him, whom I have chosen to 
 describe. 
 
 It may answer as a characteristic of the 
 dress of many of his companions, those of 
 the group that was nearest me. There was 
 variety in their habiliments, yet the na- 
 tional costume of Mexico was traceable in 
 all. Some wore leathern calzoneros, with 
 a spencer or jerkin of the same material, 
 close both in front and behind. Some 
 carried, instead of the pictured serape, the 
 blanket of the Navajoes, with its broad black
 
 260 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 stripes. Suspended from the shoulders of 
 others hung the beautiful and graceful 
 manga. Some were moccasoned ; while a 
 few of the inferior men wore the simple 
 guar ache — the sandal of the Aztecs. 
 
 The countenances of these men were 
 swarth and savage-looking — their hair long, 
 straight, and black as the wing of a crow ; 
 while both beard and moustache grew wildly 
 over their faces. Fierce dark eyes gleamed 
 under the broad brims of their hats. Few 
 of them were men of high stature ; yet there 
 was a litheness in their bodies, that showed 
 them to be capable of great activity. Their 
 frames were well knit, and inured to fa- 
 tigues and hardship. They were all, or 
 nearly all, natives of the Mexican border — 
 frontiers-men — who had often closed in 
 deadly fight with the Indian foe. They were 
 ciboleros, vaqueros^ rancheros^ monteros ; men, 
 who in their frequent association with the 
 mountain men^ the Gallic and Saxon hunters 
 '} from the eastern plains had acquired a degree
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 261 
 
 of daring, which by no means belongs to their 
 own race. They were the chivaky of the 
 Mexican frontier. 
 
 They smoked cigarritos — rolling them 
 between their fingers in husks of maize. 
 They played monte on their spread blankets, 
 staking their tobacco. They cursed, and 
 cried " Carajo," when they lost, and thanks 
 to the " Santissima virgen," when the cards 
 were pulled out in their favour ! 
 
 Their language was a Spanish patois — • 
 their voices sharp and disagreeable. 
 
 At a short distance from these, was the 
 second group that attracted my attention. 
 The individuals composing this were alto- 
 gether different from the former. They 
 were different in every essential point — in 
 voice, dress, language, and phisiognomy. 
 Theirs was the Anglo-American face, at a 
 glance. These were the trappers — the prairie 
 hunters — the mountain men. 
 
 Let us again choose a type that may 
 answer for a description of all.
 
 262 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 He stands, leaning on his long straight 
 rifle, looking into the fire. He is six feet 
 in his moccasons; and of a build, that sug- 
 gests the idea of strength and Saxon an- 
 cestry. His arms are like young oaks ; and 
 his hand, grasping the muzzle of his gun, 
 is large, fleshless, and muscular. His 
 cheek is broad and firm. It is partially 
 covered by a bushy whisker, that meets over 
 the chin and fringes all around the lips. It 
 is neither fair nor dark ; but of a dull, 
 brown colour, lighter around the mouth, 
 where it has been bleached by the sun, " am- 
 ber," and water. The eye is grey, or bluish 
 grey, small, and slightly crowed at the cor- 
 ner. It is well set, and rarely wanders. It 
 seems to look into you, rather than at you. 
 The hair is brown, and of a medium length, 
 (cut, no doubt, on his last visit to the trad- 
 ing post, or the settlements) ; and the com- 
 plexion, although dark as that of a mulatto, 
 is only so from tan. It was once fair— a
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS 263 
 
 blonde. The countenance is not unpre- 
 possessing. It might be styled handsome. 
 Its whole expression is bold, but good- 
 humoured, and generous. 
 
 The dress of the individual described is 
 of home manufacture — that is, of his home, 
 the prairie, and the wild mountain park — 
 where the material has been bought by 
 a bullet from his rifle. It is the work of 
 his own hands — unless indeed he may be 
 one, who, in his moments of lassitude, has 
 shared his cabin with some Indian damsel, 
 Sioux, Crow, or Cheyenne. 
 
 It consists of a hunting shirt of dressed 
 deer-skin, smoked to the softness of a glove. 
 Leggings reaching to the waist, and mocas- 
 sons of the same material — the latter soled 
 with the parfieche of the buffalo. The shirt 
 is belted at the waist, but open at the breast 
 and throat, where it falls back into a graceful 
 cape just covering the shoulders. Underneath 
 is seen the undershirt, of finer material — 
 the dressed skin of the antelope, or the fawn
 
 264 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 of the fallow deer. On his head is a racoon 
 cap, with the face of the animal looking to 
 the front ; while the barred tail hangs like a 
 plume drooping down to his left shoulder. 
 
 His accoutrements are, a bullet pouch 
 made from the undressed skin of the moun- 
 tain cat, and a huge crescent-shaped horn — 
 upon which he has carved many a strange 
 souvenir. His arms consist of a long knife, 
 a bowie, and a heavy pistol, carefully se- 
 cured by a holster to the leathern belt 
 around his waist. Add to this a rifle nearly 
 five feet long, taking ninety to the pound ; 
 and so straight, that the line of the barrel 
 scarcely deflects from that of the butt ! 
 
 But little attention has been paid to orna- 
 ment in either his dress, arms, or equipments ; 
 and yet there is a gracefulness in the hang 
 of his tunic-like shirt ; a stylishness about 
 the fringing of the cape and leggings ; and a 
 jauntiness in the set of that coonskin cap, 
 that shows the wearer to be not altogether
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 265 
 
 unmindful of his personal appearance. A 
 small pouch or case, neatly embroidered 
 with stained porcupine quills, hangs upon 
 his breast. 
 
 At intervals, he contemplates this with a 
 pleased and complacent look. It is his pipe- 
 holder — a love-token from some dark-eyed, 
 dark-haired damsel, no doubt, like himself, 
 a denizen of the wild wilderness. Such is 
 the tout ensemble of a mountain trapper. 
 
 There were many around him whom 
 I have described, almost similarly attired 
 and equipped. Some wore slouch hats of 
 greyish felt ; and some catskin caps. Some 
 had hunting shirts bleached to a brighter 
 hue, and broidered with gayer colours. 
 Others looked more tattered and patched, 
 and smoky; yet in the costume of all 
 there was enough of character to enable 
 you to class them. There was no possibi- 
 lity of mistaking the regular '•''mountain 
 man.'''' 
 
 VOL. L N
 
 266 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 The third group, that attracted ray attention, 
 was at a greater distance from the spot I oc- 
 cupied. I was filled with curiosity, not to 
 say astonishment, on perceiving that they 
 were Indians ! 
 
 " Can they be prisoners?" thoughtl. "No; 
 they are not bound. There are no signs of 
 captivity, either in their looks or gestures ; 
 and yet they are Indians ! can they belong 
 to the band, fighting against — ?" 
 
 As I sat conjecturing, a hunter passed 
 near me. 
 
 " Who are these Indians?" I asked, indi- 
 cating the group. 
 
 " Delawares — some Shawnee." 
 
 These then were the celebrated Delawares 
 — descendants of that great tribe, who on the 
 Atlantic shores first gave battle to the pale- 
 faced invader. Theirs has been a wonderful 
 history. War their school, war their wor- 
 ship, war their pastime, war their profes- 
 sion ! They are now but a remnant. Their 
 story will soon be ended !
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 267 
 
 I rose up ; and approached them with a 
 feeling of interest. Some of them were 
 sitting around the fire, smoking out of 
 curiously carved pipes of the red claystone. 
 Others strode back and forth, with that ma- 
 jestic gait for which the " forest " Indian 
 has been so much celebrated. There was a 
 silence among them, that contrasted strangely 
 with the jabbering kept up by their Mexican 
 allies. An occasional question put in a 
 deep-toned sonorous voice — a short but em- 
 phatic reply — a guttural grunt — a dignified 
 nod — a gesture with the hand — and thus 
 they conversed, as they filled their pipe-bowls 
 with the Hm-kin-ik^ and passed the valued 
 instruments from one to another. 
 
 I stood gazing upon these stoical sons of 
 the forest, with emotions stronger than 
 curiosity ; as one contemplates for the first 
 time an object of which he has heard 
 and read strange accounts. The history 
 of their wars and their wanderings were 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 fresh in my memory. Before me were the 
 actors themselves — or types of them — in all 
 their truthful reality, in all their wildpictu- 
 resqueness. These were the men who, dri- 
 ven from their homes, by the Atlantic border, 
 yielded only to fate — to the destiny of their 
 race. Crossing the Appalachian range — they 
 had fought their way from home to home — 
 down the steep sides of the Alleghany — along 
 the wooded banks of the Ohio, into the heart 
 of the "Bloody Ground." Still the pale 
 face followed on their track, and drove them 
 onward — onward to the setting sun. Red 
 wars — Punic faith — broken treaties — year 
 after year, thinned their ranks. Still, dis- 
 daining to live near their white conquerors, 
 they pushed on — fighting their way through 
 tribes of their own race and colour, thrice 
 their numbers! The forks of the Osage 
 became their latest resting-place. Here 
 the usurper promised to guarantee them 
 a home, to be theirs to all time. The
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 269 
 
 concession came too late. War and wan- 
 dering had grown to be part of their na- 
 tures; and with a scornful pride, they dis- 
 dained the peaceful tillage of the soil. The 
 remnant of their tribe was collected on the 
 Osage ; but in one season it had disappeared ! 
 The braves and young men wandered 
 away, leaving only the old, the women, and 
 the worthless in their allotted home ! Where 
 have they gone ? Where are they now ? He, 
 who would find the Delawares, must seek 
 them on the broad prairies — in the moun- 
 tain parks — in the haunts of the bear and 
 the beaver — the bighorn and the buffalo. 
 There he may find them, in scattered bands, 
 leagued with their ancient enemies, the 
 whites, or alone ; trapping, hunting, fighting 
 the Yuta, or Rapaho, the Crow or Cheynne, 
 the Navajo and the Apache. 
 
 I stood gazing upon the group, with feelings 
 of profound interest — upon their features, and 
 their picturesque habiliments. Though no
 
 270 THE SCALP-HUKTERS. 
 
 two of them were dressed exactly alike, there 
 ivas a similarity about the dress of all. Most 
 of them wore hunting shirts, not made of 
 deerskin — like those of the whites — but of 
 calico, printed in bright patterns. This 
 dress, handsomely fashioned and fringed, 
 under the accoutrements of the Indian war- 
 rior, presented a striking appearance. But 
 that which chiefly distinguished the costumes 
 of both the Delaware and Shawano, from 
 that of their white allies, was the head- 
 dress. This was, in iact, a turban, formed 
 by binding the head with a scarf or 
 kerchief of a brilliant colour — such as 
 may be seen on the dark Creoles of 
 Hayti. In the group before me, no two of 
 these turbans were alike, yet they were all of 
 a similar character. The finest were those 
 made by the chequered kerchiefs of Madras. 
 Plumes surmounted them, of coloured 
 feathers, from the wing of the war eagle, or 
 the blue plumage of the gruya.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 271 
 
 For the rest of their costume, they 
 wore deerskin leggings and moccasons, 
 nearly similar to those of thfe trappers. 
 The leggings of some were ornamented by 
 scalp locks along the outer seam — exhi- 
 biting a dark history of the wearer's 
 prowess ! I noticed that their moccasons were 
 pecuUar — differing altogether from those 
 worn by the Indians of the prairies. They 
 were seamed up the fronts, without braiding 
 or ornament ; and gathered into a double row 
 of plaits. 
 
 The arms and equipments of these warrior 
 men were like those of the white hunters. 
 They have long since discarded the bow ; and 
 in the management of the rifle, most of them 
 can "draw ahead," and hit '' plum centre," 
 with any of their mountain associates. In 
 addition to the firelock and knife, I noticed 
 that they still carried the ancient weapon 
 of their race — the fearful tomahawk. 
 
 I have described three characteristic
 
 272 THE SCALP-HU.NTERS. 
 
 groups that struck me on glancing over the 
 camp ground. There were individuals be- 
 longing to' neither ; and others partaking 
 of the character of one or all. There were 
 Frenchmen — Canadian voyageurs — strays 
 of tlie North-west company — wearing white 
 capotes; and chattering, dancing, and sing- 
 ing their boat songs with all the esprit of 
 their race. There were Pueblos — Indios 
 manzos — clad in their ungraceful tilmas — 
 and rather serving than associating with 
 those around them. There were mulattoes, 
 too; and negroes of a jetty blackness, from 
 the plantations of Louisiana — who had ex- 
 changed for this free roving life, the twisted 
 '^ cowskin" '' of the overseer. There were 
 tattered uniforms — showing the deserters, 
 who had wandered from some frontier post, 
 into this remote region. There were 
 Kanakas from the Sandwich Isles, who had 
 crossed the deserts from California. There 
 were men apparently of every hue and clime
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 273 
 
 and tongue, here assembled — drawn together 
 by the accidence of life— by the instinct of 
 adventure— all more or less strange indi- 
 viduals of the strangest band it has ever 
 been my lot to witness— ^Ag hand of the 
 Scalp-hunters ! 
 
 n3
 
 274 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 SHAKP-SHOOTING. 
 
 I HAD returned to my blanket, and was 
 about to stretch myself upon it, when the 
 whoop of a " gruya" drew my attention. 
 Looking up, I saw one of these birds flying 
 towards the camp. It was coming through 
 a break in the trees that opened from the 
 river. It flew low, and tempted a shot with 
 its broad wings, and slow lazy flight. 
 
 A report rang upon the air ! One of the 
 Mexicans had fired his escopette; but the 
 bird flew on, plying its wings with more 
 energy, as if to bear itself out of reach.
 
 THE SCALP-PIUNTERS. 275 
 
 There was a laugh from the trappers, and 
 a voice cried out — 
 
 " Yur cussed fool ! d' yur think 'ee kud 
 hit a spread blanket wi' that beetle-shaped 
 blunderbox? Pish!" 
 
 I turned to see who had delivered this odd 
 speech. Two men were poising their rifles, 
 bringing them to bear upon the bird. One 
 was the young hunter whom I have de- 
 scribed. The other was an Indian whom I 
 had not seen before. 
 
 The cracks were simultaneous : and the 
 crane, dropping its long deck, came whirling 
 down among the trees, where it caught upon 
 a high branch, and remained. 
 
 From their position, neither party knew 
 that the other had fired. A tent was between 
 them ; and the two reports had seemed as 
 one. A trapper cried out — 
 
 " Well done, Garey ! Lord help the thing 
 that's afore old Kilbar's muzzle, when you 
 squints through her hind sights.*' 
 The Indian just then stepped round the tent.
 
 276 THE SCALF'HUKTERS. 
 
 Hearing this side speech, and perceiving 
 the smoke still oozing from the muzzle of 
 the young hunter's gun, he turned to the 
 latter with the interrogation — 
 
 "Did you fire, sir ?" 
 
 This was said in well accentuated and 
 most un-Indian-like English, which would 
 have drawn my attention to the man, had 
 not his singularly imposing appearance 
 riveted me already. 
 
 " Who is he ?" I inquired from one near 
 me. 
 
 " Don't know — fresh arriv," was the short 
 answer. 
 
 " Do you mean that he is a stranger 
 here ?" 
 
 " Jest so. He kumd in thar awhile 
 agone. Don't b'lieve anybody knows him. 
 I guess the captain does ; I seed them shake 
 hands." 
 
 I looked at the Indian with increasing 
 interest. He seemed a man of about thirty
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 277 
 
 years of age, and not much under seven feet in 
 height ! He was proportioned like an Apollo ; 
 and, on this account, appeared smaller than 
 he actually was. His features were of the 
 Roman type; and his fine forehead, his 
 aquiline nosc and broad jaw-bone, gave hira 
 the appearance of talent, as well as firmness 
 and energy. He was dressed in a hunting 
 shirt, leggings and moccasons ; but all these 
 differed from anything worn either by the 
 hunters, or their Indian allies. The shirt 
 itself was made out of the dressed hide of 
 the red deer ; but differently prepared to that 
 used by the trappers. It was bleached 
 almost to the whiteness of a kid glove ! The 
 breast — unlike theirs — was close, and beau- 
 tifully embroidered with stained porcupine 
 quills. The sleeves were similarly orna- 
 mented ; and the cape and skirts were trimmed 
 with the soft, snow-white fur of the ermine. 
 A row of entire skins of that animal hung 
 from the skirt border, forming a fringe
 
 278 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 both graceful and costly. But the most sin- 
 gular feature about this man was his hair. It 
 fell loosely over his shoulders, and swept 
 the ground as he walked! It could not 
 have been less than seven feet in length. It 
 was black, glossy, and luxuriant; and re- 
 minded me of the tails of those great 
 Flemish horses, I had seen, in the funeral 
 carriages of London. 
 
 He wore upon his head the war-eagle 
 bonnet, with its full circle of plumes — the 
 finest triumph of savage taste. This mag- 
 nificent head-dress added to the majesty of 
 his appearance. 
 
 A white bufi*alo robe hung from his shoul- 
 ders, with all the graceful draping of a 
 toga. Its silky fur corresponded to the 
 colour of his dress, and contrasted strikingly 
 with his own dark tresses. 
 
 There were other ornaments about his 
 person. His arms and accoutrements were 
 shining with metallic brightness; and the
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 279 
 
 stock and butt of his rifle were richly inlaid 
 with silver. 
 
 I have been thus minute in my descrip- 
 tion, as the first appearance of this man im- 
 pressed me with a picture that can never be 
 effaced from my memory. He was the heau 
 ideal of a picturesque and romantic savage ; 
 and yet there was nothing savage either in 
 his speech or bearmg. On the contrary, 
 the interrogation which he had just ad- 
 dressed to the trapper was put in the po- 
 litest manner. The reply was not so cour- 
 teous. 
 
 " Did I fire? Didn't ye hear a crack? 
 Didn't ye see the thing fall?* Look yonder !" 
 
 Garey, as he spoke, pointed up to the bird. 
 
 " We must have fired simultaneously." 
 
 As the Indian said this, he appealed to his 
 gun, which was still smoking at the muzzle. 
 
 " Look hyar, Injun! whether we fired 
 symultainyously, or extraneously, or cattaw- 
 ampously, aint the flappin o' a beaver's tail
 
 280 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 to nie ; but I tuk sight on that bird ; I hut 
 that bird ; and 'twar my bullet brought the 
 thing down." 
 
 " I think I must have hit it too," replied 
 the Indian, modestly. 
 
 " That's like, with that ar spangled gim- 
 crack," said Garey, looking disdainfully at 
 the other's gun, and then proudly at his own 
 brown weather-beaten piece — which he had 
 just wiped, and was about to reload. 
 
 " Gimcrack or no," answered the Indian, 
 " she sends a bullet straighter and farther, 
 than any piece I have hitherto met with. 
 I'll warrant she has sent hers through the 
 body of the crane." 
 
 " Look hyar, mister ; for I s'pose we must 
 call a gentleman ' mister' who speaks so fine 
 an looks so fine, tho' he he's an Injun ; its 
 mighty easy to settle who hut the bird. 
 That thing's a fifty, or tharabout's; Kil- 
 bar's a ninety. 'Taint hard to tell which 
 has plugged the varmint. We'll soon see ;"
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 281 
 
 and so saying, the hunter stepped off toward 
 the tree, on which hung the gruya, high up. 
 
 " How are ye to get it down?" cried one 
 of the men, who had stepped forward to wit- 
 ness the settlement of this curious dispute. 
 
 There was no reply, for every one saw 
 that Garey was poising his rifle for a shot. 
 The crack followed ; and the branch, shivered 
 by his bullet, bent downward under the 
 weight of the gruya ! But the bird, caught 
 in a double fork, still stuck fast on the 
 broken limb. 
 
 A murmur of approbation followed the 
 shot. These were men not accustomed to 
 hurrah loudly at a trivial incident. 
 
 The Indian now approached, having re- 
 loaded his piece. Taking aim, he struck the 
 branch at the shattered point, cutting it 
 clean from the tree ! The bird fell to the 
 ground, amidst expressions of applause from 
 the spectators, but chiefly from the Mexican 
 and Indian hunters. It was at once picked
 
 282 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 up and examined. Two bullets had passed 
 through its body! Either would have killed 
 it. 
 
 A shadow of unpleasant feeling was vi- 
 sible on the face of the young trapper. In 
 the presence of so many hunters of every 
 nation, to be thus equalled — beaten — in the 
 use of his favourite weapon — and by an 
 " Injun,"— still worse by one of " them ar 
 gingerbread guns." The mountain men 
 have no faith in an ornamented stock or a 
 big bore. Spangled rifles, they say, are like 
 spangled razors, made for selling to "green- 
 horns." It was evident, however, that the 
 strange Indian's rifle had been made to shoot 
 as well. 
 
 It required all the strength of nerve, which 
 the trapper possessed, to conceal his chagrin. 
 Without saying a word, he commenced wiping 
 out his gun, with that stoical calmness pe- 
 culiar to men of his calling. I observed 
 that he proceeded to load with more than
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 283 
 
 usual care. It was evident that he would not 
 rest satisfied with the trial already made, but 
 would either beat the *' Injun" or be him- 
 self " whipped into shucks." So he declared, 
 in a muttered speech to his comrades. 
 
 His piece was soon loaded ; and, swinging 
 her to the hunter's carry, he turned to the 
 crowd — now collected from all parts of the 
 camp. 
 
 " Thar's one kind o' shootin','' said he, 
 " that's jest as easy as fallin' off a log. Any 
 man kin do it, as kin look straight through 
 hind-sights. But then thar's another kind, 
 that ain't so easy ; it needs narve." 
 
 Here the trapper paused ; and looked 
 toward the Indian, who was also re-loading. 
 
 " Look hyar, strenger !" continued he, ad- 
 dressing the latter. *' Have ye got a cum- 
 marade on the ground, as knows yer shootin'." 
 
 The Indian, after a moment's hesitation, 
 answered " Yes." 
 
 " Kin yer cummarade depend on yer shot?"
 
 284 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 " Oh ! I think so. Why do you wish to 
 know that? " 
 
 " Why — I'm a goin' to show ye a shot we 
 sometimes practise at Bent's Fort, jest to 
 tickle the greenhorns. 'Taint much o' a 
 shot, nayther ; but it tries the narves a 
 little, I reckon. Hoy! Rube! " 
 
 " D— n yur ! What do 'ee want? " 
 
 This was spoken in an energetic and 
 angry-like voice, that turned all eyes to the 
 quarter whence it proceeded. At the first 
 glance, there seemed to be no one in 
 that direction. In looking more carefully, 
 among the logs and stumps, an indi- 
 vidual was discovered, seated by one of the 
 fires. It would have been difficult to tell 
 that it was a human body, had not the arms 
 at the moment been in motion. The 
 back was turned toward the crowd, and the 
 head had disappeared, sunk forward over 
 the fire. The object, from where we were 
 standing, looked more like the stump of a
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 285 
 
 Cottonwood, dressed in dirt-coloured buck- 
 skin, than the body of a human being. In 
 getting nearer, and round to the front of it, 
 it was seen to be a man — though a very- 
 curious one— holdino; a lono^ rib of deer-meat 
 in both hands, which he was polishing with 
 a very poor set of teeth. 
 
 The whole appearance of this individual 
 was odd and striking. His dress — if dress 
 it could be called— was simple as it was 
 savage. It consisted of what might have 
 once been a hunting shirt, but which now 
 looked more like a leathern bag with 
 the bottom ripped open, and sleeves sewed 
 into the sides. It was of a dirty-brown 
 colour, wrinkled at the hollow of the arms, 
 patched around the armpits, and greasy all 
 over: it was fairly " caked" with dirt! There 
 was no attempt at either ornament or fringe. 
 There had been a cape; but this had evidently 
 been drawn upon, from time to time, for patches 
 and other uses, until scarcely a vestige of it
 
 286 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 remained. The leggings and moccasons were 
 on a par with the shirt ; and seenned to have 
 been manufactured out of the same hide. 
 They too were dirt -brown, patched, 
 wrinkled, and greasy. They did not meet 
 each other, but left a piece of the ankle 
 bare ; and that also was dirt-brown, like the 
 buckskin. There was no undershirt, vest, 
 or other garment to be seen, with the ex- 
 ception of a close-fitting cap, which had 
 once been catskin ; but thehair was all worn 
 off it — leaving a greasy, leathery-looking 
 surface, that corresponded well with the 
 other parts of the dress. Cap, shirt, leg- 
 gings, and moccasons, looked as if they had 
 never been stripped off, since the day they 
 were first tried on; and that might have 
 been many a year ago. The shirt was open — 
 displaying the naked breast and throat — and 
 these, as well as the face, hands, and ankles, 
 had been tanned by the sun, and smoked 
 by the fire, to the hue of rusty copper. The
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 287 
 
 whole man — clothes and all — looked as if he 
 had been smoked on purpose ! 
 
 His face bespoke a man of sixty. The 
 features were sharp and somewhat aquiline ; 
 and the small eye was dark, quick, and 
 piercing. His hair was black and cut short. 
 His complexion had been naturally bru- 
 nette, though there was nothing of the 
 Frenchman or Spaniard in his physiognomy. 
 He was more likely of the black Saxon 
 breed. 
 
 As I looked at this man (for I had walked 
 towards him, prompted by some instinct of 
 curiosity), I began to fancy that there was 
 a strangeness about him, independent of the 
 oddness of his attire. There seemed to be 
 something peculiar about his head — some- 
 thino: wantino^. WTiat was it? I was not 
 long in conjecture. When fairly in front of 
 him, I saw what was wanting. It was his 
 ears ! 
 
 This discovery impressed me with a feeling
 
 288 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 akin to awe. There is something awful in 
 a man without his ears. It suggests some 
 horrid drama — some terrible scene of cruel 
 vengeance. It suggests the idea of crime 
 committed, and punishment inflicted. 
 
 These thoughts were wandering through 
 my mind, when all at once I remembered 
 a remark which Seguin had made on the 
 previous night. This, then, thought I, is the 
 person of whom he spoke. My mind was 
 satisfied. 
 
 After making answer as above, the old 
 fellow sat for some time, with his head 
 between his knees— chewing, mumbling, and 
 growling, like a lean old wolf, angry at 
 being disturbed in his meal. 
 
 " Come hyar, Rube ! I want ye a bit," 
 continued Garey, in a tone of half entreaty. 
 
 *'And so 'ee will want me a bit; this 
 child don't move a d— d peg, till he has 
 cleaned this hyur rib — he don't— now! " 
 
 " Dog-gone it man! make haste then," 
 and the impatient trapper dropped the butt
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 289 
 
 of his rifle to the ground ; and stood waiting 
 in sullen silence. 
 
 After chewing, and mumbling, and grow- 
 ling a few minutes longer, old Rube — for 
 that was the name by which the leathery 
 sinner was known — slowly erected his lean 
 carcase; and came walking up to the 
 crowd. 
 
 " "What do 'ee want, Billee?'' he inquired, 
 going up to the trapper. 
 
 " I want ye to hold this," answered 
 Garey, offering him a round white shell, 
 about^the size of a watch ; a species, of which 
 there were many strewed over the ground. 
 
 "Is'tabet, boyee?" 
 
 '' No, it is not." 
 
 " Aint wastin' yur powder, ar yur." 
 
 "I've been beat shootin," replied the 
 trapper in an under tone, " by that ar 
 Injun." 
 
 The old man looked over, to where the 
 strange Indian was standing erect and 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 majestic, in all the pride of his plumage. 
 There was no appearance of triumph or 
 swagger about him, as he stood leaning on 
 his rifle, in an attitude at once calm and 
 dignified. 
 
 It was plain from the way old Eube sur- 
 veyed him, that he hkd seen him before — 
 though not in that camp. After passing his 
 eyes over him from head to foot — and there 
 resting them a moment — a low murmur 
 escaped his lips, which ended abruptly in the 
 word " Coco." 
 
 " A Coco do ye think?" inquired the other 
 with an apparent interest. 
 
 " Are 'ee blind, Billee? Don't 'ee see his 
 moccasson ?" 
 
 " Yes, you're right, but I was in thar 
 nation two years ago. I seed no sich man 
 as that." 
 
 " He w'ant there." 
 
 " Wharthen?" 
 
 " Whur thur's no great show o' redskins.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 291 
 
 He may shoot well ; he did onecest on a time 
 — plum centre." 
 
 '' You knew him, did ye?" 
 
 " 0-ee-es. Onecest. Putty squaw, — 
 hansum gal. Whur do'ee want me to go?" 
 
 I thought that Garey seemed inclined to 
 carry the conversation farther. There was 
 an evident interest in his manner, when the 
 other mentioned the "squaw." Perhaps he 
 had some tender recollection ; but, seeing the 
 other preparing to start off, he pointed to an 
 open glade, that stretched eastward; and 
 simply answered, '* Sixty." 
 
 " Take care o' my claws, d' yur hear ! 
 Them Injuns has made 'em scace ; this 
 child can't spare another." 
 
 The old trapper said this, with a flourish 
 of his right hand. I noticed, that the little 
 finger had been chopped off! 
 
 " Never fear, old boss !" was the reply ; 
 and, at this, the smoky carcase moved away,
 
 292 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 with a slow and regular pace, that showed he 
 was measuring the yards. 
 
 When he had stepped the sixtieth yard, he 
 faced about, and stood erect — placing his 
 heels together. He then extended his right 
 arm — raising it until his hand was on a level 
 with his shoulder — and, holding the shell in 
 his fingers, flat side to the front, shouted 
 back — 
 
 " Now, Bill-ee shoot, an be d — d to yur !" 
 
 The shell was slightly concave — the con- 
 cavity turned to the front. The thumb and 
 fino:er reached half around the circumference 
 — so that a part of the edge was hidden ; and 
 the surface, turned towards the marksman, 
 was not larger than the dial of a common 
 watch ! 
 
 This was a fearful sight. It is one not so 
 common among the mountain men, as travel- 
 lers would have you believe. The feat proves 
 the markman's skill — first, if successful, by 
 showing the strength and steadiness of his
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 293 
 
 nerves : secondly, by the confidence which the 
 other reposes in it, thus declared by stronger 
 testimony than any oath. In any case, the 
 feat of holding the mark is at least equal to 
 that of hitting it. There are many hunters 
 willing to risk taking the shot, but few who 
 care to hold the shell. 
 
 It was a fearful sight; and my nerves tingled 
 as I looked on. Many others felt as I. No 
 one interfered. There were few present who 
 would have dared — even had these two men 
 been making preparation to fire at each other ! 
 Both were " men of mark" among their com- 
 rades—trappers of the first class. 
 
 Garey, drawing a long breath, planted 
 himself firmly — the heel of his left foot oppo- 
 site to, and some inches in advance of the 
 hollow of his right. Then, jerking up his 
 gun, and thro win o: the barrel across his left 
 palm, he cried out to his comrade ; 
 
 " Steady, old bone an sinyer ! hyar's at 
 ye!" 3
 
 294 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 The words were scarcely out, when the 
 gun was levelled. There was a moment's 
 deathlike silence — all eyes looking to the 
 mark. Then came the crack— and the shell 
 was seen to fly, shivered into fifty fragments ! 
 There was a cheer from the crowd. Old 
 Eube stooped to pick up one of the pieces ; 
 and, after examining it for a moment, shouted 
 in a loud voice : 
 
 '* Plum centre, by G— d!" 
 
 The young trapper had, in effect, hit the 
 mark in the very centre — as the blue stain of 
 the bullet testified.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 A FEAT A LA TELL. 
 
 All eyes are turned upon the strange 
 Indian. During the scene described, he has 
 stood silent and calmly looking on. His 
 eye now wanders over the ground, apparently 
 in search of an object. 
 
 A small convolvulus— known as the 
 " prairie gourd" — is lying at his feet. It 
 is globe-shaped, about the size of an orange, 
 and not unlike one in colour. He stoops 
 and takes it up. He seems to examine it 
 with great care, balancing it upon his hand, 
 as though he was calculating its weight !
 
 296 THE SCALP-HUNTEKS. 
 
 What does he intend to do with this? 
 Will he fling it up, and send his bullet through 
 it in the air? What else? 
 
 His motions are watched in silence. 
 Nearly all the scalp-hunters— sixty or seventy 
 — are on the ground. Seguin, only, with 
 the Doctor and a few men, is engaged 
 some distance off pitching a tent. Garey 
 stands upon one side, slightly elated with 
 his triumph; but not without feelings of 
 apprehension that he may yet be beaten. 
 Old Kube has gone back to the fire ; and 
 is roasting another rib. 
 
 The gourd seems to satisfy the Indian — 
 for whatever purpose he intends it. A long 
 piece of bone — the thigh joint of the war- 
 eagle ^ hangs suspended over his breast. It 
 is curiously carved, and pierced with holes 
 like a musical instrument. It is one. 
 
 He places this to his lips — covering the 
 holes with his fingers. He sounds three 
 notes— oddly inflected — but loud and sharp.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 297 
 
 He drops the instrument again, and stands 
 looking eastward into the woods. The eyes 
 of all present are bent in the same direction. 
 The hunters, influenced by a mysterious 
 curiosity, remain silent ; or speak only in low 
 mutterings. 
 
 Like an echo, the three notes are 
 answered by a similar signal ! It is evident 
 that the Indian has a comrade in the 
 woods; yet not one of the band seems to 
 know aught of him ; or his comrade. Yes 
 — one does. It is Rube. 
 
 '* Look'ee hyur boyees !'^ cries he, squint- 
 ing over his shoulders. " I'U stake this rib 
 agin a griskin o' poor bull, that 'ee'll see 
 the puttiest gal as'ee ever set yur eyes 
 on. 
 
 There is no reply — we are gazing too 
 intently for the expected arrival. 
 
 A rustling is heard, as of some one part- 
 ing the bushes — the tread of a light foot — 
 the snapping of twigs. A bright object
 
 298 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 appears among the leaves. Some one is 
 coming through the under Avood. It is a 
 woman ! 
 
 It is an Indian girl, attired in a singular 
 and picturesque costume. 
 
 She steps out of the bushes ; and comes 
 boldly towards the crowd. All eyes are 
 turned upon her, with looks of wonder and 
 admiration. We scan her face and fiojure 
 and her striking attire. 
 
 She is dressed not unlike the Indian him- 
 self ; and there is a resemblance in other 
 respects. The tunic worn by the girl is 
 of finer materials — of fawn skin. It is richly 
 trimmed; and worked Avith split quills, stained 
 to a variety of bright colours. It hangs to 
 the middle of the thighs, ending in a fringe 
 work of shells, that tinkle as she moves. 
 
 Her limbs are wrapped in leggings of 
 scarlet cloth, fringed like the tunic, and 
 reaching to the ankles, where they meet the 
 flaps of her moccasons. These last are white,
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 299 
 
 embroidered with stained quills, and fitting 
 closely to her small feet. 
 
 A belt of wampum closes the tunic on 
 her waist — exhibiting the globular develop- 
 ments of a full-grown bosom, and the 
 undulating outlines of a womanly person. 
 Her head-dress is similar to that worn by 
 her companion, but smaller and lighter ; 
 and her hair, like his, hangs loosely down, 
 reaching almost to the ground ! Her neck, 
 throat, and part of her bosom are nude, and 
 clustered over with bead-strings of various 
 colours. 
 
 The expression of her countenance is 
 high and noble. Her eye is oblique. The 
 lips meet with a double curve, and the 
 throat is full and rounded. Her complexion 
 is Indian ; but a crimson hue struggling 
 through the brown upon her cheek, gives 
 that pictured expression to her countenance, 
 that may be observed in the quadroon of the 
 West Indies.
 
 300 THE SCALP-HUNTEES. 
 
 She is a girl, thougli full grown, and 
 boldly developed — a type of health and 
 savage beauty. 
 
 As she approaches, the men murmur their 
 admiration. There are hearts beating under 
 hunting shirts, that rarely deign to dream 
 of the charms of woman. 
 
 I am struck, at this moment, with the 
 appearance of the young trapper — Garey. 
 His face has fallen — the blood has forsaken 
 his cheeks — his lips are white and compressed, 
 and dark rings have formed around his 
 eyes ! They express anger ; but there is still 
 another meaning in them- 
 
 Is it j ealousy ? Yes 1 
 
 He has stepped behind one of his com- 
 rades, as if he did not wish to be seen. 
 One hand is playing involuntarily with the 
 handle of his knife ! The other grasps the 
 barrel of his gun, as though he would crush 
 it between his fingers ! 
 
 The girl comes up. The Indian hands
 
 THE SCALP- HUNTERS. 301 
 
 her the gourd, muttering some words in an 
 unknown tongue — unknown at least to me. 
 She takes it without making any reply, and 
 walks off toward the spot, where Rube had 
 stood— which has been pointed out to 
 her by her companion. 
 
 She reaches the tree ; and halts in front of 
 it — facing round, as the trapper had done. 
 
 There was something so dramatic, so 
 theatrical, in the whole proceeding, that, up 
 to the present time, we had all stood waiting 
 for the denouement in silence. Now we 
 knew what it was to be ; and the men began 
 to talk. 
 
 " He's a'goin to shoot the gourd from the 
 hand of the gal," suggested a hunter. 
 
 " No great shot after all," added another 
 and indeed this was the silent opinion 
 of most on the ground. 
 
 " Wagh? it don't beat Garey if he diz hit 
 it," exclaimed a third. 
 
 What was our amazement, at seeing the 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 302 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 girl fling off her plumed bonnet — place the 
 gourd upon her head — fold her arms over her 
 bosom — and stand, fronting us, as calm and 
 immobile, as if she had been carved upon 
 the tree ! 
 
 There was a murmur in the crowd. The 
 Indian was raising his rifle to take aim, 
 when a man rushed forward to prevent him. 
 It was Garey ! 
 
 " No, yer don't 1 No ! " cried he, clutching 
 the levelled rifle; " she's deceived me^ that's 
 plain; but I won't see the gal that once 
 loved me, or said she did, in the trap that-a- 
 way. No ! Bill Garey ain't a-goin' to stand 
 by, and see it." 
 
 " What is this?*' shouted the Indian in 
 a voice of thunder. " Who dares to inter- 
 rupt me?'* 
 
 '' I dares," replied Garey. " She's you'rn 
 now, I suppose. You may take her whar 
 ye like; and take this too," continued he, 
 tearing off the embroidered pipe case, and
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 303 
 
 iiinging it at the Indian's feet ; " but ye're 
 not a-goin to shoot her down, whiles I 
 stand by." 
 
 "By what right do you interrupt me? 
 My sister is not afraid, and — " 
 
 " Your sister !'^ 
 
 " Yes — my sister." 
 
 "And is yon gal your sister?" eagerly 
 inquired Garey, his manner and the expres- 
 sion of his countenance all at once chano^ino:. 
 
 " She is. I have said, she is." 
 
 "And are you El Sol?" 
 
 " I am.i' 
 
 " I ask your pardon; but — " 
 
 " I pardon you. Let me proceed!" 
 
 " 0, sir, do not— no ! no ! She is your sister, 
 and I know you have the right, but thar's 
 no needcessity. I have heerd of your 
 shootin'. I give in you kin beat me. For 
 God's sake, do not risk it — as you care for 
 her, do not ! "
 
 304 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 ^' There is no risk. I will show you." 
 
 ''No, no. If you must then, let me! I 
 will hold it. 0, let me ! " stammered the 
 hunter in tones of entreaty. 
 
 "Hilloo Billee!" What's the dratted rum- 
 pus?" cried Kube, coming up. " Hang it, 
 man ! let's see the shot. I've heern o' it 
 afore. Don't be skeert, ye fool ! he'U do it 
 like a breeze — he will !" 
 
 And as the old trapper said this, he 
 caught his comrade by the arm, and slung 
 him round out of the Indian's way. 
 
 The girl, during all this, had stood stiU — 
 seemingly not knowing the cause of the 
 interruption. Garey's back was turned to 
 her ; and the distance — with two years of 
 separation — doubtless prevented her from 
 recognising him. 
 
 Before Garey could turn to interpose 
 himself, the rifle was at the Indian's shoul- 
 der and levelled ! His finger was on the
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 305 
 
 trigger, and his eye glanced through the 
 sights. It was too late to interfere. Any 
 attempt at that might bring about the 
 dreaded result. The hunter, as he turned, 
 saw this ; and, halting in his tracks, stood 
 straining and silent. 
 
 It was a moment of terrible suspense to 
 all of us — a moment of intense emotions. 
 The silence was profound. Every breath 
 seemed suspended. Every eye was fixed 
 on the yellow object, not larger, I have said, 
 than an orange. God ! wiU the shot 
 never come? 
 
 It came. The flash— the crack — the 
 stream of fire — the wild hurrah — the forward 
 rush — were all simultaneous things. We 
 saw the shivered globe fly oiF. The girl 
 was still upon her feet— she was safe ! 
 
 I ran with the rest. The smoke for a 
 moment blinded me. I heard the shrill 
 notes of the Indian whistle. I looked before 
 me. The girl had disappeared!
 
 306 • THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 
 
 We ran on to the spot where she had 
 stood. We heard a rustling in the under- 
 wood — a departing footstep. We knew it 
 was she ; but, guided by an instinct of deli- 
 cacy, and a knowledge that it would be con- 
 trary to the wish of her brother, no one 
 followed her. 
 
 We found the fragments of the calabash — 
 strewed over the ground. We found the 
 leaden mark upon them. The bullet itself 
 was buried in the bark of the tree ; and one 
 of the hunters commenced digging it out 
 with the point of his bowie. 
 
 When we turned to go back, we saw that 
 the Indian had walked away, and now stood 
 chatting easily and familiarly with Seguin. 
 
 As we re-entered the camp-ground, I ob- 
 served Garey stoop and pick up a shining 
 object. It was the gage d! armour^ which he 
 carefully re-adjusted around his neck, in its 
 wonted position.
 
 THE SCALP-HUNTERS. 307 
 
 From his look, and the manner in which 
 he handled it, it was plain that he now re- 
 garded that souvenir with more reverence 
 than ever. 
 
 END OF VOL I. 
 
 LONDON ; 
 Printed by Myers & Co., 22, Tavistock-street, Covent Garden.
 
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