A BRAVE ACT AND A CLEVER RUSE
As the two marines dashed around the bend in the road they found before
them an open plain with small clumps of low-lying shrubs here and there
on its sun-baked, level surface. Three hundred yards to their right a
thatched hut of mud stood at the edge of the mangroves which bordered
the plain. Apparently deserted, it offered the only real shelter in
sight, and this was shelter from observation only, in all probability,
for its walls would offer little resistance to the shots of their
enemies.
"Make for the shack, Hank," called Dick, and together they dashed across
the firm ground. Before they reached their haven the bullets were again
zip-zipping about them. Dick, in the lead, was within a few yards of
the hut when he was arrested by a cry of distress from Henry. Turning,
he saw his chum on his hands and knees about twenty yards in the rear,
while from the direction of the bend an exultant yelling told him the
natives were aware that one of the party was injured. Instantly Dick
doubled on his tracks and was soon at Henry's side.
"Did they get you, Hank?" he inquired anxiously.
"Yes, in the right leg," answered the plucky boy, with a smile. "It
knocked me down. Doesn't hurt much, but I can't seem to use my leg."
"I'll fix you all right," said Dick cheerily, though he felt far from
happy, and bending while Henry sat up, he easily picked up his companion
in the way he had been taught to use in carrying wounded men off the
field. He took Henry's left leg under his own left arm, and made the
injured boy bend over his left shoulder. Then, grasping Henry's left
wrist with his right hand, Dick was up and again running towards the
hut. The shooting kept up while Dick was bending over his chum, but
when the natives saw him carrying away the fallen boy they redoubled
their fire and their yells increased in proportion. Fortunately they
were poor marksmen, and Dick reached the shack without further mishap.
Here he deposited Henry on the dirt floor and reaching in his
hunting-bag he brought forth a first-aid package. The wound was
bleeding freely, and without hesitation Dick ripped the right trousers'
leg from the knee downward with his knife (the same one he had taken
from Gonzales at Sanchez) and then with an expert hand he bound the
wound up firmly.
"I feel O.K. now, old chap, and you'd better squint outside and see what
those rapscallions are up to."
"They've quit shooting and there is no one in sight," said Dick, who
crawled to the empty doorway and looked out across the flats towards the
bend.
[Illustration: Map Showing Position of Hut in Which Boys Took Refuge]
"Do you reckon they've decided to let us alone?"
"I don't know, Henry, but I'll know in a minute. I'm going out after our
shotguns. We're pretty poor soldiers to leave our weapons lying all
around the country," and Dick's grin was meant to convey the idea that
the task he was about to undertake was not of much importance nor
danger.
"Don't try it, Dick. Perhaps they are only waiting for us to show
ourselves and then when we do they hope to pot us."
But Dick had rushed out of the doorway before Henry finished speaking.
He zigzagged his way across the open space to about fifty yards, the
point where he had rescued Henry, and with his reappearance another
fusillade began. As Dick reached the spot he saw the two guns lying
within a few feet of each other, and between them and the enemy was a
small clump of green bush.
Back in the doorway Henry now sat watching with bated breath. He saw
Dick stop in his mad rush, then he saw him throw up his hands in a wild
gesture of despair and fall to the ground. That his brave friend was in
great agony was evident to the helpless watcher. He saw Dick roll over
and over, his arms and legs seeming to thresh the air. Finally the
movements ceased and Dick lay stretched out like a log on the scorching
hot plain. The tears rolled unheeded down Henry's cheeks, and then,
hearing the loud victorious shouts of the natives as they streamed out
from behind the shelter of the woods near the bend, and on across the
plain, his lips pressed together and his eyes grew cold and stern, for
the brain behind was dominated by but one thought, the desire to avenge
his comrade.
With grim determination he placed all the spare magazines for his pistol
within easy reach and drew his heavy Colt's from the holster. Not a man
should ever reach Dick's body if the steady hand and cool nerve of Henry
Cabell could prevent.
On came the natives, and Mexican Pete was leading them. Even as they
came they continued firing at the hut and in the direction of the still
body lying behind the little bush where it had rolled in the last
struggles. Henry, unheeding the pain in his leg, rolled into the
doorway on his stomach and, resting both elbows on the floor, he
squinted over the sights and took careful aim at the Mexican. He meant
to make every shot count, and so he waited until the leader should be
within seventy-five yards of him. So intense was he on judging the
precise moment to open fire that he saw nothing but this one man whom he
covered with his pistol.
As he looked he saw the Mexican throw up his arms, whirl about and run
back towards cover. What caused this? Henry lowered his pistol, and now
saw the rest of the gang wildly scattering, leaving two of their number
lying on the plain. The next moment Henry was rubbing his eyes to see
if he were awake. The body lying in the shelter of the bush had come to
life. Dick Comstock was working his shotguns with lightning rapidity,
and clouds of dust flew up from the plain as the buckshot sprayed about
among the fleeing men. As the last one was lost in the distant cover
Dick ceased his fire and came running, with both guns in his hands, for
the hut.
"Say, boy, but didn't I fool 'em?" he joyfully shouted as he sprang
through the doorway. "Did you see me get 'em, Hank?"
"Old boy, I thought they had gotten you. I reckon I was pretty much all
in too, Dick, when I saw you go down, and I was just about to open up
when you began on them. It was sure a good trick you played, but, Dick,
be careful to let me know about it the next time or I'll die of heart
failure. Did they get you at all?"
"Not once; but one of their darn slugs took off my cap, right enough,
and right then the thought flashed through my mind to play the trick.
Whew! It's some hot out there, and, Hank, do you still see those two
chaps that fell? I wonder if they're hurt, or--or---- Gee! I feel
kind of squeamish, now that it's over," and Dick sat down rather
suddenly with his back against the wall.
"No, they are not dead, Dick, for one of them jumped up and limped off
when your fire stopped, and the other is yelling for help right now.
Besides, they deserve no better fate, and our death would have meant
nothing to them in the way of regret, at least."
"I feel better, after what you've said, but for a moment the thought of
killing a man was making me sort of sick at my stomach. I didn't feel
that way when I was shooting at 'em, though," and Dick took a deep
breath of relief, then rising he looked out at the scene of recent
conflict. Out in the middle of the plain the wounded native still
called for help, but if his comrades were within hearing they made no
attempt to render any assistance.
"I reckon those buckshot sort of stung a bit," snickered Henry; but his
snicker ended in a little painful gasp that he tried in vain to control.
"I've got to get you out of here, Hank, and in a hurry. There is no
telling what they'll do next, and they'll be back as soon as the first
fright wears off. I believe that path back of the hut will take us to a
creek which flows into the Estero Balsa and which the officers plotted
in on the chart last week when I was with them. Anyhow, it's worth
trying. If you feel well enough suppose you keep an eye out on the plain
while I reconnoiter in the rear."
"Good; I feel fine, Dick, so go along, and I'll keep them off, don't
worry."
In ten minutes Dick returned with the news that his surmise was correct,
and as luck would have it, a small boat with two men was even then
coming up the narrow creek. Taking Henry on his shoulder once more,
Dick carried him to the bank of the creek, arriving there as the boatmen
reached a point opposite. At his hail the boat was soon nosing the
bank, and the natives inquired what was wanted.
"My comrade just met with an accident, and I wish to take him to the
Captain of the Port's house; will you row us there?"
The two fishermen at first demurred, but Dick settled the matter by
taking hold of the gunwale and at the same time drawing his pistol. It
was no time to parley; in a moment they saw the force of his remarks.
Henry was placed carefully in the bottom of the boat, and soon they were
speeding down-stream.
Once during the passage the two boys looked at each other and winked
knowingly, for from far upstream came the sound of numerous shots.
"Seems to be a lot of hunting in this country," said Dick aloud.
"Oh, yes, Senor, the doves are very plentiful this year," said one of
the rowers.
Crossing the waters of the Estero, they drew up alongside the wharf,
where they had landed less than twenty-four hours previously. One of
the ship's boats was there, and the coxswain in charge hailed them.
"Hurry aboard, you leathernecks. I've all the stuff from your camp.
The ship's under sailin' orders fer Nicaragua, where there's a hot
little revolution goin' on. What's that, one of you hurt? Well, they
shouldn't let boys carry guns anyway; they're all the time a-shootin' of
themselves. Steady, lads! Handle him with care, and make a soft place
fer him in the cockpit with them cushions. Shove off, for'rd! Full
speed ahead! Say good-bye to this heck of an island, fellers; we're off
this time, for sure!"