THE ATTACK.
"He has a bare chance yet," declared the outlaw, noting their looks of
grief. "I will do what I can for him, but I wish I'd been here an hour
sooner."
He took a little package from the bosom of his shirt and spread the
contents out upon the table. "I couldn't bring much without arousing
suspicion," he said regretfully, "but I guess I can make out with what
I've brought."
With deft fingers, the newcomer measured out a powder from one of his
packages and administered it to the unconscious lad and next turned his
attention to the wounded leg. Emptying a spoonful of liquid from one
of his bottles into a gourd of water he began to bathe the inflamed
limb.
The hunters could not but admire the deftness and skill with which the
stranger worked. His long tapering fingers seemed to have the
suppleness and deftness of a woman's and his whole attention seemed
concentrated upon his patient.
The hours passed slowly away, each seeming a day in length to the
anxious hunters. The convicts remained hidden behind the wall and
there was nothing to do but to keep a sharp lookout. At noon the
watchers made a light lunch on the smoked venison and water, but the
young outlaw waved away the offered food and remained engrossed by the
patient's side. At intervals of a few minutes all during the
afternoon, he administered medicine to the sufferer and repeatedly
bathed the wounded leg with the solution he had prepared.
The sun was barely an hour high, when he arose from the side of the
couch with a weary sigh. "I think he will live," he announced, "he was
almost gone for a while, though. I gave him enough strychnine during
the first few hours to have killed a normal man, but his heart had
weakened so that the stimulant hardly raised his pulse a single beat.
The heart action is better now, and with close attention he had ought
to pull through."
"How can we ever repay you for what you have done?" said the old
sailor, with tears of thankfulness in his eyes, while Walter wrung the
stranger's hand warmly.
"The saving of many lives will hardly atone for one I took once, though
the deed was done in self-defense," said the outlaw gravely. "I am
glad to have been of help in this case." He glanced around the room
with a return of his former light careless manner and nodded
approvingly as he noted the stores of provisions and water. "Good," he
exclaimed, "you are better prepared than I expected and certainly in
much better shape than my former gentle companions dream. Why, it will
be impossible for them to take this place by force."
"Can you tell us of their plans, Mr.----," inquired Walter, hesitating
for want of a name.
"You may call me Ritter, James Ritter," supplied the outlaw promptly.
"I am not ashamed of my real name but my relatives had cause to be
ashamed of its owner in his present condition. Their plans are almost
self-evident, my lad. They will wait until dark and then slip over the
wall, some will stop in that big building while the balance will make
their way around to a building on the other side of you. They will
then have you surrounded and have only to watch and wait to starve you
out. They have plenty of provisions with them and can get that spring
behind the fort without exposing themselves. It is only a question of
time before you will have to give up, and then may the Lord grant us
all a speedy death."
"Don't be too sure of it, friend," observed the captain. "The Lord
never deserts those who fully believe and trust him. Those villains
may be defeated yet."
The outlaw grinned as he looked around the room. "My dear friends are
badly fooled," he chuckled with glee. "They believe the chief is with
you, and he is not here. Why, they have already spent, in imagination,
the money that they are going to derive from the sale of his plumes.
What a shock it will be to them when they learn that the bird has
flown. I wish I could see their faces when they hear the news."
"The chief is dead," said Walter, "do you think they would go away if
they knew the truth?"
"No, I do not," replied Ritter, after a moment's thought, "in spite of
all you might say, they would have a suspicion that you had secured the
plumes yourselves, and, anyway, they are so mad that they will not
leave until they have finished the job."
The hunters were favorably impressed with the frankness of the former
outlaw. He had the speech and the manners of a gentleman, and his
earnestness and apparent sincerity went far towards removing their
suspicions, and, much to their surprise, they found themselves soon
talking to him with the freedom of old acquaintances.
Ritter chuckled with delight when they told him of the young chief
going for aid. "That gives us a fighting chance," he declared,
joyfully. "We must put ourselves on short rations and try to hold out
until they come."
"Where is Indian Charley?" asked Walter, "is he with the others?"
"No, they could not induce him to set foot on the island. The place
evidently has a bad name among the Indians and I am not surprised after
what I have seen. Even the convicts are puzzled and a little alarmed
by the walls, courts, and buildings. They none of them know enough
about history to lay them to the Spaniards as you folks have probably
done. Charley, the Indian, swears that there is a mysterious bell
which tolls every night. Have you heard anything of the kind?"
Walter briefly related their adventure with the bell-ringer, omitting
any reference to the captain's superstitious fears, much to the old
sailor's relief.
Further conversation was interrupted by darkness and preparations for
the night.
Chris built a little fire near the door where the smoke would pass out
through the cracks and prepared a stew of venison and some broth for
Charley.
Taking turns the besieged made a hearty meal which did wonders in
renewing hope and courage.
It was decided that they should take short shifts of watching during
the night, two in each watch. It fell to Walter to share the watch
with the young outlaw, for which he was not at all displeased, for he
was greatly interested in the strange character, and their turns at the
watch passed quickly in pleasant conversation.
The outlaw spoke freely of the incident that had brought him to the
convict gang, claiming firmly that the deed which had made him a felon
had been done in self-defense, but, owing to lack of witnesses and to a
well-known enmity between him and the dead man, the jury had brought in
a verdict of murder in the second degree.
Walter, under the spell of the man's attractive, strong personality,
could not but believe his assertion.
At the end of their watch, Walter awoke Chris and the captain and
stretched out for a nap, but the outlaw never closed his eyes during
the long uneventful night. When not watching, he was hovering over
Charley's bedside administering medicine or working over the bitten
leg. Yet daylight found him as cool and fresh as ever, apparently
unaffected by his long vigil.
To the hunters' great delight, day found Charley visibly improved. He
had fallen into a deep sleep, his body was wet with profuse
perspiration, and the swelling of the limb had greatly decreased.
They showered thanks upon the outlaw until he was visibly embarrassed
and begged them to say no more.
The morning passed as had the night, without any hostile demonstration
by the convicts. Smoke curling up from the fort and from a building on
the other side of them told the besieged that the enemy had taken up
their positions during the night as Ritter had prophesied. Evidently
they were willing to wait for their triumph rather than risk any lives
by trying to take their victims by assault.
When Chris started to make a stew for dinner, Ritter stopped him. "We
can't spare any more water for cooking," he declared. "I have used a
good deal on the patient, and the gourds are already almost empty. Our
only hope of life is in husbanding our water and it would be wise to
put ourselves on an allowance now. I figure that there is enough in
that big copper to allow each of us a pint and a half per day for ten
days."
The others saw the wisdom of his proposal and immediately agreed to it,
and they made their dinner of roasted yams, smoked venison broiled
before the fire, and a few swallows of water.
Once during the afternoon a convict tried a shot at a crack between the
posts barricading the window. The bullet passed through, missing
Ritter's head by a scant two inches. The former outlaw never winced
but began singing mockingly, "Teasing, teasing, I was only teasing you."
A perfect storm of bullets answered his taunt.
"The rascals don't appreciate good singing," he said with a grin.
Charley's condition continued to steadily improve under the outlaw's
careful ministrations and by nightfall, he was conscious once more and
comparatively free from pain.
Night brought no change in the condition of the besieged. Watches were
arranged as on the night before, and those off duty retired as soon as
darkness had fallen.
"Do you believe in premonitions," asked Ritter, gravely, as he and
Walter stood peering out of the windows. "Do you believe that coming
events cast their shadows before them?"
"I hardly know," answered Walter, thoughtfully, "sometimes I almost
believe that we are given warnings of coming events, but I can never
quite convince myself that the happenings confirming, for instance, say
a dream, are anything more than coincidences."
"A few days ago I would have laughed at such an idea, but all day I
have had a vague presentiment of coming evil which I have found
impossible to shake off," explained his companion.
"It's your liver, I dare say," said Walter cheerfully, "for my part, I
feel that we are going to get out of this hole all right, and live
happy ever after as the story books say."
"There can be but little happiness for me in the future, however, if we
come out of this affair," said his companion sorrowfully. "Death, I
sometimes think, would be the best thing that could befall me. I am a
life convict, you remember, found guilty by a jury, and condemned to
pass a life at hard, degrading labor in company with ruffians of the
lowest, most debased type. It is not a future to look forward to with
pleasure!"
Walter remained silent, he could not but admit the truth of the man's
words and reflect upon the misery of such a life would naturally bring
to a man of education and refinement like this one. "You might escape,
go to some other state, and begin life anew," he at last suggested.
"After what you have done for us, and believing you innocent as we now
do, we should do all we could to help you to get away."
"The life of a fugitive would be worse than that of a convict,"
declared the other bitterly. "In every face I would read suspicion,
and dread of detection and arrest would haunt me all the time."
Walter could say nothing more to encourage this strange, unfortunate
character, and with an effort the other shook off the black mood that
had fallen upon him.
"I guess you're right, it must be my liver," he said lightly. "After
all there is something in the old jockey saying, "There is nothing to a
race but the finish." If I live a convict I can at least die a
gentleman."
A sympathetic silence fell upon the two that lasted unbroken until
their watch ended.