Chapter 50 - The Scalp Hunters by Mayne Reid
A Fast Dye
After a four days’ journey, painful even to be remembered, we re-entered the valley of Navajoa. The other captives, along with the great caballada, had arrived before us; and we saw the plundered cattle scattered over the plain.
As we approached the town, we were met by crowds of women and children, far more than we had seen on our former visit. These were guests, who had come in from other villages of the Navajoes that lay farther to the north. They were there to witness the triumphant return of the warriors, and partake of the great feast that always follows a successful foray.
I noticed many white faces among them, with features of the Iberian race. They had been captives; they were now the wives of warriors. They were dressed like the others, and seemed to participate in the general joy. They, like Seguin’s daughter, had been Indianised.
There were many Mestizoes, half-bloods, the descendants of Indians and their Mexican captives, the offspring of many a Sabine wedding.
We were carried through the streets, and out to the western side of the village. The crowd followed us with mingled exclamations of triumph, hatred, and curiosity. At the distance of a hundred yards or so from the houses, and close to the river bank, our guards drew up.
I had turned my eyes on all sides as we passed through, as well as my awkward position would permit I could see nothing of her, or any of the female captives. Where could they be? Perhaps in the temple.
This building stood on the opposite side of the town, and the houses prevented me from seeing it. Its top only was visible from the spot where we had been halted.
We were untied and taken down. We were happy at being relieved from the painful attitude in which we had ridden all the way. We congratulated ourselves that we should now be allowed to sit upright. Our self-congratulation was brief. We soon found that the change was “from the frying-pan into the fire.” We were only to be “turned.” We had hitherto lain upon our bellies; we were now to be laid upon our backs.
In a few moments the change was accomplished, our captors handling us as unceremoniously as though we had been inanimate things. Indeed we were nearly so.
We were spread upon the green turf on our backs. Around each man four long pins were driven into the ground, in the form of a parallelogram. Our arms and legs were stretched out to their widest, and raw-hide thongs were looped about our wrists and ankles. These were passed over the pins, and drawn so tightly that our joints cracked with the cruel tension. Thus we lay, faces upturned, like so many hides spread out to be sun-dried.
We were placed in two ranks, “endways,” in such a manner that the heads of the front-rank men rested between the feet of their respective “rears.” As there were six of us in all, we formed three files, with short intervals between.
Our attitudes and fastenings left us without the power of moving a limb. The only member over which we had any control was the head; and this, thanks to the flexibility of our necks, we could turn about, so as to see what was going on in front or on either side of us.
As soon as we were fairly staked down, I had the curiosity to raise my head and look around me. I found that I was “rear rank, right file,” and that my file leader was the ci-devant soldier O’Cork.
The Indian guards, after having stripped us of most of our clothing, left us; and the girls and squaws now began to crowd around. I noticed that they were gathering in front of my position, and forming a dense circle around the Irishman. I was struck with their ludicrous gestures, their strange exclamations, and the puzzled expression of their countenances.
“Ta—yah! Ta—yah!” cried they, and the whole crowd burst into shrill screams of laughter.
What could it mean? Barney was evidently the subject of their mirth; but what was there about him to cause it, more than about any of the rest of us?
I raised my head to ascertain: the riddle was solved at once. One of the Indians, in going off, had taken the Irishman’s cap with him, and the little, round, red head was exposed to view. It lay midway between my feet, like a luminous ball, and I saw that it was the object of diversion.
By degrees, the squaws drew nearer, until they were huddled up in a thick crowd around the body of our comrade. At length one of them stooped and touched the head, drawing back her fingers with a start and a gesture, as though she had burned them.
This elicited fresh peals of laughter, and very soon all the women of the village were around the Irishman, “scroodging” one another to get a closer view. None of the rest of us were heeded, except to be liberally trampled upon; and half a dozen big, heavy squaws were standing upon my limbs, the better to see over one another’s shoulders.
As there was no great stock of clothing to curtain the view, I could see the Irishman’s head gleaming like a meteor through the forest of ankles.
After a while the squaws grew less delicate in their touch; and catching hold of the short, stiff bristles, endeavoured to pluck them out, all the while screaming with laughter.
I was neither in the state of mind nor the attitude to enjoy a joke; but there was a language in the back of Barney’s head, an expression of patient endurance, that would have drawn smiles from a gravedigger; and Sanchez and the others were laughing aloud.
For a long time our comrade endured the infliction, and remained silent; but at length it became too painful for his patience, and he began to speak out.
“Arrah, now, girls,” said he, in a tone of good-humoured intreaty, “will yez be aizy? Did yez niver see rid hair afore?”
The squaws, on hearing the appeal, which of course they understood not, only showed their white teeth in loud laughter.
“In trath, an’ iv I had yez on the sod, at the owld Cove o’ Cark beyant, I cud show yez as much av it as ’ud contint ye for yer lives. Arrah, now, keep aff me! Be the powers, ye’re trampin’ the toes aff me feet! Ach! don’t rug me! Holy Mother! will yez let me alone? Divil resave ye for a set of—”
The tone in which the last words were uttered showed that O’Cork had at length lost his temper; but this only increased the assiduity of his tormentors, whose mirth now broke beyond bounds. They plucked him harder than ever, yelling all the while; so that, although he continued to scold, I could only hear him at intervals ejaculating: “Mother av Moses!” “Tare-an-ages!” “Holy vistment!” and a variety of similar exclamations.
This scene continued for several minutes; and then, all at once, there was a lull, and a consultation among the women, that told us they were devising some scheme.
Several girls were sent off to the houses. These presently returned, bringing a large olla, and another vessel of smaller dimensions. What did they intend to do with these? We soon learned.
The olla was filled with water from the adjacent stream, and carried up, and the smaller vessel was set down beside Barney’s head. We saw that it contained the yucca soap of the Northern Mexicans. They were going to wash out the red!
The Irishman’s hand-stays were now loosened, so that he could sit upright; and a copious coat of the “soft-soap” was laid on his head, completely covering his hair. A couple of sinewy squaws then took hold of him by the shoulders, and with bunches of bark fibres applied the water, and scrubbed it in lustily.
The application seemed to be anything but pleasant to Barney, who roared out, ducking his head on all sides to avoid it. But this did not serve him. One of the squaws seized the head between her hands, and held it steady, while the other set to it afresh and rubbed harder than ever.
The Indians yelled and danced around; but in the midst of all I could hear Barney sneezing, and shouting in a smothered voice—
“Holy Mother!—htch-tch! Yez may rub—tch-itch!—till yez fetch-tch the skin aff—atch-ich-ich! an’ it won’t—tscztsh!—come out. I tell yez—itch-ch! it’s in the grain—itch-itch! It won’t come out—itch-itch!—be me sowl it won’t—atch-itch-hitch!”
But the poor fellow’s expostulations were in vain. The scrubbing continued, with fresh applications of the yucca, for ten minutes or more; and then the great olla was lifted, and its contents dashed upon his head and shoulders.
What was the astonishment of the women to find that instead of modifying the red colour, it only showed forth, if possible, more vivid than ever!
Another olla of water was lifted, and soused about the Irishman’s ears, but with no better effect.
Barney had not had such a washing for many a day; at least, not since he had been under the hands of the regimental barber.
When the squaws saw that, in spite of all their efforts, the dye still stuck fast, they desisted, and our comrade was again staked down. His bed was not so dry as before; neither was mine, for the water had saturated the ground about us, and we lay in mud. But this was a small vexation, compared with many others we were forced to put up with.
For a long time the Indian women and children clustered around us, each in turn minutely examining the head of our comrade. We, too, came in for a share of their curiosity; but O’Cork was “the elephant.”
They had seen hair like ours oftentimes upon their Mexican captives; but, beyond a doubt, Barney’s was the first red poll that had ever been scratched in the valley of Navajoa.
Darkness came on at length, and the squaws returned to the village, leaving us in charge of the guards, who all the night sat watchfully beside.