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I forbear to tell what he was going to do to that Bedouin that owned it. It makes my blood run cold to think of it. Another was going to scalp such Bedouins as fell to his share, and take his bald-headed sons of the desert home with him alive for trophies. But the wild-eyed pilgrim rhapsodist was silent. His orbs gleamed with a deadly light, but his lips moved not.
Then abruptly quitting the handle of his weapon, he thrust his hand into his bosom, and again drawing forth the reeking scalp of Donellan, he dashed it furiously in the face of his prisoner. "Not two hours since," he exclaimed, "I cheered myself with the thought that the scalp of a De Haldimar was in my pouch. Now, indeed, do I glory in my mistake.
He promised to enter into particulars 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."
Thereupon what did he do but dismount, and with his rifle in the hollow of his arm leisurely stroll back in the direction of the voice! He had full faith that he could take care of himself, afoot as well as ahorse. In a moment he found himself facing three Shawnees and a white man, riding straight for him. He threw his rifle to his shoulder, for a scalp, and a signal shot to his comrades.
And when, just before he left, he sang The Spanish Cavalier in that stirring tenor which always made her scalp tingle and her breast feel full, she turned her face to the moonlit scene outside and lived one of those minutes which are so filled with beauty and the stirring of the spirit that pleasure becomes poignant and brings a feeling which isn't far from pain.
There was no question about discarding them and some of Mayne Reid's books like "The scalp hunters" and "Lost Lenore," which are much of the same type, very different from his earlier stories, and in a short time we did not renew books by some other authors, but let them die out, replacing them if possible by stories a little better, giving preference to those complete in themselves.
We got her into her bunk aft; I sent the other chap for brandy and first-aid appliances from the ship's stores, and did what I could to discover how far she was injured. . . . "Thank God, nothing worse had happened than a nasty scalp wound. But her escape had been miraculous.
"Pick his stride or his horse's out of a hundred, and" he pulled out his nickel watch "he's ten minutes earlier than I expected him! Morning, Colonel Kirby!" he said pleasantly, as Kirby strode in, helmet in hand. "Take a seat." He noticed Kirby's scalp was red and that he smelt more than faintly of carbolic. "Morning!" said Kirby. "I'm wondering what's brought you," said the man in drab.
Only yelled it. I thought it was going a bit too far in a public place. So, to show him, I just said "Good evening, Cookson; how are you this evening?" With all his entertaining ways he's sometimes slow at taking a hint. No tact, if you see what I mean. In this case, for instance, he answered at the top of his voice: "Bolly Golly, yah!" and pretended to scalp me with his umbrella.
The wound extended across the forehead above the eyebrows, but the ears were untouched. Skin-grafting was tried in this case but with no result, and the woman afterward lost an eye by exposure, from retraction of the eyelid. In some cases extensive wounds of the scalp heal without artificial aid by simply cicatrizing over.
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