A BRUSH WITH THE INDIANS.
"JUMP for it!" exclaimed Dacres.
Henri hesitated, then, prodding the engineer with his foot, gave
additional warning of the threatened danger.
The fellow moved not a muscle. Thinking he had fainted through sheer
fright, the Englishman grasped him under the arms and dropped him out
on the ground. As he fell the Valderian rolled over on his face. He
was stone dead: a bullet from the second aeroplane had pierced his
heart.
Looking over his shoulder Dacres ran, following his fleeter-footed
companion.
"Lie down when I give the word," he exclaimed breathlessly. "Now--lie
down."
Both men threw themselves flat upon the ground at eighty yards from
the railroad.
The noise of the impact was deafening. The splintering of wood, the
clang of iron, and the hiss of the water upon the scattered contents
of the furnace were outvoiced by the thud of the debris, which,
hurled far and wide by the concussion, fell in showers about the
prostrate survivors from the stolen locomotive.
Dacres rose to his feet. It was a bad enough smash, but he had
expected it to be worse, for the trucks looked suspiciously similar
to those left on the siding near Naocuanha. He felt convinced that
had the authorities at La Paz the means at their disposal they would
not have hesitated to dump a heap of dynamite cartridges into the
trucks to make a complete business of "wiping out" the two fugitives.
He realized that their position was far from enviable. The mere fact
of the attempt on the part of the Valderians at La Paz was sufficient
to prove that Dacre's act of cutting the wires had failed to attain
its desired object. The two comrades had a dangerous journey before
them. Ill-equipped, ill-provisioned, and in an open country where the
Republican irregulars were practically certain to be in evidence,
many perils would beset them ere they rejoined the "Meteor."
On the other hand, there was a chance that when the Valderian troops
arrived at the scene of the disaster they might come to the
conclusion that the two fugitives were either killed in the collision
and buried under the debris, or else that they were blown to atoms in
one of the two explosions caused by the head-long fall of the
biplanes. Taking this for granted, the Valderians might abandon the
pursuit.
Again, Dacres and his companion had dealt the Republic a heavy blow.
In addition to the loss of the two aeroplanes the railway track
between Naocuanha and La Paz had been torn up in two places, the
damage being beyond all chance of a speedy repair. In the event of
the Valderians having to abandon the capital and fall back upon La
Paz, their retreat would be seriously impeded.
Having shared their scanty load of provisions the two comrades set
out on their long and necessarily circuitous route towards the
Sierras. Fortunately the grass was dry and left little or no
indication of their tracks. In places the plain was composed of mud,
still moist from the recent rains. In crossing these patches Henri
suggested that they should walk backwards, so that should the faint
trail be followed through the grass the trackers would come to the
conclusion that they had hit upon the route of two men walking
towards the railway instead of from it. To heighten the deception
Dacres and his companion removed their boots when crossing the
plastic mud. Their trail then resembled that of two Indians of the
plains, who invariably go barefooted, although they mostly ride on
horseback.
Before nightfall they had put twelve miles between them and the place
where they had made their compulsory landing from the locomotive.
"It is time to halt for the night," declared de la Fosse, pointing to
the sun, now about to dip beyond the horizon.
"Tired?" asked Dacres laconically.
"No, only we cannot see our way after dark."
"Is that all?" asked the Englishman. "If so we may as well carry on
and sleep during the day. I can shape a course by the stars."
With the fall of night the temperature dropped rapidly. The
travellers could well have done with the poncho or South American
cloak, for in spite of their steady progress the keen air of the
uplands cut them like a knife. They were already footsore; the long,
tough grass impeded them; they were unable to see the ruts in the
hard ground; nevertheless, they toiled on, Dacres setting the
direction by means of the relative position of the Southern Cross.
"What is that glare in the sky?" asked Henri, stopping and pointing
behind him. Away to the west and close to the horizon a blurr of pale
light flickered incessantly.
"Search light," replied Dacres.
"Where, then?"
"From the British fleet. On a clear night like this we can see the
glare nearly a hundred miles away. Well, suppose we rest for half an
hour and have some food?"
To this proposal Henri willingly assented. He was more done up than
he would admit, but had gamely struggled to overcome fatigue and an
almost irresistible desire for sleep.
Sitting back to back, as a mutual protection from the cold, the two
men ate and drank in silence. They dare not smoke, knowing that the
flicker of a match or the glow of a cigarette might indicate their
presence.
"Time," announced Dacres in a low voice.
It required a great effort for them to regain their feet. The cold
had numbed their weary limbs, and the Englishman was forced to come
to the unpleasant conclusion that the halt had done them more harm
than good.
On and on they trudged till the dawn. The Sierras, their snow-clad
peaks crimsoned by the rising sun long before the orb of day appeared
above the horizon, seemed as far off as they had on the previous
night.
"You sleep for a few hours," suggested Dacres after another scanty
and unappetising repast. "I'll keep watch."
The young Frenchman protested, but in vain. His companion was
obdurate. With a quaint gesture of despair Henri stretched himself
upon the grass and was soon fast asleep, utterly worn out with his
long period of wakefulness.
Although Dacres was heavy-eyed he stoutly resisted the inclination to
slumber. Very easily he could have shut his eyes and dozed while he
was standing. More than once his head fell upon his chest to the
accompaniment of a painful jerk of the back of his neck. Then with a
sudden start he would open his eyes and survey the seemingly
boundless expanse of waving grass in every direction, save where the
distant mountains reared themselves in solitary grandeur. For two
hours he kept the tedious vigil, the rapidly increasing heat of the
sun adding to his discomfort.
"What's that?" he muttered, as a number of small moving objects at a
distance of at least two miles caught his attention.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking possibly that his sense of vision was
playing him a trick. No, he was not mistaken. There was movement--the
movement of horses and possibly horsemen.
Without attempting to awaken his comrade Dacres dropped on his knees
and watched. His sleepiness had temporarily vanished. He was now in
full possession of his mental and bodily faculties.
"Horsemen, by Jove!" he muttered. "Indians probably. I'll keep well
out of sight and perhaps they will pass by at a safe distance."
The riders were approaching rapidly: not from the direction Dacres
and his companion had come, but from the south-east. If they
maintained their present course they would pass about two hundred
yards from the place where the travellers lay concealed.
Presently one of the riders reined up. His example was followed by
the rest of the group. They sat on their horses like living statues,
awaiting their leader's orders.
The Englishman was right in his surmise. They were Indians of the
plains, more than half savages, born horsemen and crafty fighters.
Most of them were naked save for a piece of hide round their waists
and descending nearly to their knees. They were all armed with long
knives, while, in addition, some carried spears of about ten feet in
length and others had bolas coiled up ready to throw at any moment.
They evidently were suspicious. It seemed incredible that even their
sharp eyes could detect the presence of the two men crouched in the
long grass, but Dacres came to the uncomfortable conclusion that the
Indians were about to advance towards the spot where he and his
companion lay hidden.
Dacres grasped the sleeping Frenchman gently and firmly by the hand.
The pressure caused him to open his eyes and to become wide awake
without a spasmodic start that would have inevitably betrayed them.
"Indians!" he whispered.
Henri rolled over, then quietly raising his head peered between two
tall tufts of grass. Without replying he deliberately drew his
revolver.
Presently the horsemen--there were eleven of of them--broke into two
parties and galloped towards the two Europeans, yet sufficiently
apart to pass within fifty yards on either side.
Still wondering how the Indians were aware of their hiding-place, and
hoping against hope that such was not the case, the two comrades
still crouched in the grass; but in a very short time their doubts
were at an end, for having formed a complete cordon the horsemen
began to gallop round and round and at the same time gradually
closing in upon their quarry.
"Do not let them get close enough to throw their bolas," cautioned
Henri, "or we shall be entangled and as helpless as rats in a trap."
"Back to back, then," said Dacres. "Don't fire unless it is
absolutely necessary."
The Indians had received warning in the night from one of their
number who had come across the strange trail. Knowing that the two
men were without horses--a rare occurrence on the plains--they came
to the right conclusion that the strangers were in difficulties.
Thus, they decided, it would be an easy matter to kill them, rob
their bodies and bury them. The disappearance of two white men in a
country where murder is a common, everyday occurrence, would raise
little or no comment on the part of the lax authorities of the
Valderian Republic.
Up sprang the two comrades, and steadying their revolvers in the
crook of the left arm, each aimed at the Indian nearest to him. The
crowd, without slackening speed, increased the distance between them
and their intended victims, shouting the while in a jargon of which
Henri, who could understand the language of his father's servants,
failed to grasp the meaning.
After a while the Indians, who failed to understand why the two men
refrained from opening fire, began to contract their circular
formation. They could only come to the conclusion that the strangers'
ammunition was exhausted, and that they were merely pointing empty
weapons in the hope that the horsemen would beat a retreat.
Nevertheless, the attackers took ample precautions. Still keeping
their horses at a hot pace, they threw themselves sideways out of the
saddle, holding on only by one foot thrown across the backs of their
steeds. Thus, practically sheltered by their horses' bodies, the
Indians presented no great target to the white men's weapons.
Dacres understood their tactics. The constant whirling of the living
circle tended to daze the senses of the two men in the centre. The
Indians, having come within easy throwing distance, would hurl their
bolas, then rush in and complete their murderous work with their keen
knives.
"Fire!" exclaimed Dacres.
Two shots rang out as one. The Englishman's bullet brought down a
horse, throwing its rider headlong and causing the animal immediately
behind to stumble. As the Indian behind the second horse fell clear
another shot from Dacres settled his little account.
Henri's shot was equally fortunate. Apparently it hit one of the
Indians in the thigh, for he dropped and lay still. The horse
instantly stopped, its fore legs thrust straight in front of it.
Although untouched it remained by its master.
This totally unexpected welcome was more than the cowardly Indians
could stand. With wild shrieks they rode off at full gallop, leaving
two of their number and three steeds on the scene of action.
"We will take that horse!" exclaimed Henri, pointing to the one that
remained by the body of its rider.
So saying he advanced cautiously so as not to affright the animal.
Dacres, having recharged the empty chambers of his revolver, watched
the proceedings. He did not feel at all capable of tackling a partly
savage animal.
The Indian to whom it belonged still lay on the grass, his body
huddled up and the long hide rope that served as a bridle and tether
combined grasped in his hand.
"Look out!" shouted Dacres.
The warning came a trifle too late. With a spring resembling that of
a jaguar the Indian threw himself upon the unsuspecting Frenchman,
who had replaced his revolver in his holster.
In vain Henri leapt backwards and raised his left arm to ward off the
stroke of the Indian's keen knife. The blade glittered in the
sunlight. Even as it fell Dacres raised his revolver and fired.
Although the distance between him and the Indian was a good twenty
yards the Englishman's aim was true. Shot through the head the fellow
dropped, writhed convulsively for a few seconds and then lay
quiet--as dead as the proverbial door-nail.
"Hold up, old man!" exclaimed Dacres encouragingly, but to his great
consternation he saw his companion reel. Before he could get to him
the young Frenchman was lying on the ground close to the body of his
treacherous assailant.
A rapidly darkening stain on Henri's shirt left no doubt as to the
locality of the wound. Deftly cutting away the cloth Dacres found
that the knife, partially parried by de la Fosse's left arm, had
missed his heart, but had made a fairly deep gash between the third
and fourth ribs; while in addition there was a clean cut on his
forearm about four inches from the elbow.
Being without medical bandages and knowing that their scanty supply
of water was none too pure, Dacres was puzzled as to what was to be
done. Finally he tore the cleanest portions of his own shirt into
long strips and bound the wounds tightly, after allowing sufficient
time for the flow of blood to wash away any impurities that might
have been communicated by the Indian's knife.
"Here's a pretty mess," muttered Dacres. "This is a fine way to look
after Henri, after my promise to his father. Stranded miles from
anywhere, in a hostile country, and with a wounded man to look after.
A nice out look, by Jove! but it might be worse."