THE SCALP DANCE.
Far from us the thought of making humanitarian theories with reference to a fight in the heart of the desert between two savage tribes, for it has too long been a principle among civilized nations that the Indians are ferocious brutes, possessed of nothing human but the face, and who should be destroyed, like all other noxious animals, by all possible means, even by those which are too repugnant to humanity for us to attempt for a single moment to defend.
Still, much might be said in favour of these unhappy peoples, who have been oppressed ever since humanity decreed that a man of genius should find once more their country which had so long been lost. It would be easy for us to prove, if we thought proper, that these Peruvians and Mexicans, treated so haughtily and barbarously by the wretched adventurers who plundered them, enjoyed, at the period of the conquest, a civilization far more advanced than that of which their oppressors boasted, who had only one advantage over them in the knowledge of firearms, and who marched cased in steel from head to foot against men clothed in cotton and armed with inoffensive arrows. Placed beyond the pale of society by the unintelligent fanaticism and the inextinguishable thirst for gold which devoured the conquerors, the wretched Indians succumbed not only to the repeated assaults of their implacable conquerors, but were also destined to remain constantly beneath the oppression of a calumny which made them a stupid and ferocious race.
The conquest of the New World was one of the most odious monstrosities of the middle ages, fertile though they were in atrocities. Millions of men, whose blood was poured out like water, were coldly killed; empires crumbled away for ever, entire populations disappeared from the globe, and left no trace of their passage but their whitened bones. America, which had been so populous, was almost suddenly converted into an immense desert, and the proscribed relics of this unfortunate race, driven back into barbarism, buried themselves in the most remote countries, where they resumed the nomadic life of the old days, continually carrying on war against the whites, and striving to requite them in detail all the evils they had received at their hands for centuries.
It is only for a few years past that public opinion has been stirred up as to the fate of the Indians; and various means have been attempted—not to civilize them, though that wish has been put forward, but to put a stop to reprisals; consequently they have been placed in horrible deserts; which they have been forbidden to leave. A sanitary cordon has been formed round them, and as this method was not found sufficiently expeditious to get rid of them, they have been gorged with spirits. We will declare here the happy results obtained from these Anglo-American measures: ere a century has elapsed, not a single native will be left on the territory of the Union. The philanthropy of these worthy northern republicans is a very fine thing, but Heaven save us from it!
In every battle there are two terrible moments for the commander who has undertaken the great responsibility of victory: the one, when he gives the signal of attack and hurls his columns at the enemy; the other, when organizing the resistance, he calmly awaits the hour when the decisive blow must be dealt in accordance with his previous combinations. Loyal Heart was as calm and quiet as if witnessing an ordinary charge; with flashing eye and haughty lip he recommended his warriors to save their powder and arrows, to keep together, and sustain the charge of the Apaches, without yielding an inch of ground. The Comanches uttered their war yell twice, and then a deadly silence brooded over the clearing.
"Good!" the hunter said, "you are great braves; I am proud of commanding such intrepid warriors. Your squaws will greet you with dances and shouts of joy on your return to the village, and proudly count the scalps you bring back at your girdle."
After this brief address the hunter returned to the centre of the circle, and the Whites waited with their finger on the trigger, the Redskins with levelled bows. In the meanwhile, the Apaches had quitted their ambuscade, had formed their ranks, and were marching in excellent order on the Comanches. They had also dismounted, for a hand-to-hand fight was about to begin between these irreconcilable enemies.
The night had entirely slipped away; by the first beams of day, which tinged the tops of the trees, the black and moving circle could be seen drawing closer and closer round the weak group formed by the Comanches and the adventurers. It was a singular thing in prairie fashions that the Apaches advanced slowly without firing, as if wishing to destroy their enemies at one blow. Tranquil and Loyal Heart shook hands while exchanging a calm smile.
"We have five minutes left," said the hunter; "we shall settle a goodly number before falling ourselves," the Canadian answered.