THE PARLEY.
Only once during the night were the watchers disturbed. Two convicts
endeavored to worm their way up to the hut unseen but were quickly
spotted by the captain who emptied his revolver at them without any
other effect than to cause them to take to their heels. Aside from
this incident the besieged were not disturbed.
The convicts were evidently keeping as keen a watch as the besieged to
guard against the possibility of any of them escaping. A hat which
Chris squeezed out through a crack between the posts was promptly
riddled with bullets.
Morning found the hunters and their new friend weary with suspense and
their long inactivity. All longed for a stroll in the open air, a
chance to stretch their legs, and an unlimited supply of water to
drink. It almost seemed that their meager allowance of a pint and a
half each for the twenty-four hours did little more than increase their
thirst. They could not safely alter their unpleasant situation,
however, and they wisely made the best of it and did not grumble.
They had one great consolation in Charley's rapid progress towards
health. He was gaining with astonishing rapidity and bid fair to be
completely recovered in a few days.
With the coming of another day, the convicts opened an irregular fire
upon the doors and windows of the hut. Many of their bullets passed
between the cracks in the post barricades and imbedded themselves in
the walls. The defenders husbanded their ammunition, firing only when
a convict exposed arm or leg. They were satisfied now of the
impregnability of their building and their main concern was to keep out
of the way of chance bullets.
The morning was well advanced when Walter, who was watching at a
window, felt a curious sensation in the soles of his feet, and,
startled, looked down to find that he was standing in a tiny pool of
water. With a cry of alarm he sprang to where the big copper sat. A
glance confirmed his worst fears; a stray bullet had torn a great hole
in the vessel near the bottom, and of their precious store of water
barely a cupful remained.
It was a staggering blow to all. Food they could exist without for
several days, but in that warm, humid climate life could not be
sustained without water for any length of time. Before forty-eight
hours had passed they would be confronted by the alternatives of
surrendering to the convicts, or to suffering the awful tortures of
thirst.
"We must hold out as long as we can," declared Ritter, "something may
turn up. Even death by thirst would be better than torture at the
hands of those fiends. What little water is left, I would suggest that
we save for the sick lad. We can stand thirst longer than he."
The rest agreed heartily to this proposal and the little water
remaining was poured into an empty gourd and placed where it would be
safe from bullets. By tacit consent they agreed that their loss should
be concealed from Charley, who had slept throughout the incident. They
knew him well enough to be sure that he would not touch the little
water remaining if he knew they were suffering from thirst.
To add to the troubles of the little party, the day proved very hot and
sultry, not a breath of air stirring. By noon all were very thirsty,
and when night came without bringing any relief from the heat, they
began to suffer severely for lack of water.
The hot night dragged slowly away to bring another breathless sultry
day, the close of which found the little party almost at the limits of
their endurance. Since the night before they had been unable to eat
the dry venison as it greatly increased their thirst. Their tongues
and throats were dry and swollen and every nerve and atom of their
heated bodies clamored for water.
As night fell, Ritter got out the punctured copper and busied himself
in plugging up the hole.
"What are you doing that for?" Walter inquired.
"I'll tell you when the rest are asleep," whispered the young outlaw,
"there is no use alarming them."
It was late in the night before the others, tortured by fear and
thirst, fell into uneasy slumber, and Walter and Ritter were free to
continue their conversation.
"We are in a desperate condition," declared Ritter. "In this heat we
cannot exist very much longer without water. Something has got to be
done at once if we are to hold out another forty-eight hours."
"But what can we do?" said Walter, hopelessly. "It's sure death to
venture outside."
"I am not so sure about that," said the other, "anyway, I am going to
try it, anything is better than the tortures we will soon be suffering."
"You'll be killed," exclaimed Walter. "I'll go, Ritter, I can be
spared better than you."
"Death by bullet is better than death by thirst," said his companion
coolly, "and you cannot be spared as well as I. Your companions are
fond of you and your death would be a terrible blow to them, while I am
only an unknown convict whom no one will miss. But I am getting
tragic," he continued, lightly. "I really think there is a good chance
of success, the night is dark, and the very boldness of the attempt
will be in its favor. They will not dream of one of us venturing right
under the shadow of their fort."
Although he spoke with apparent sincerity, Walter was not deceived.
Both knew the hopelessness of such an attempt. In vain did Walter
attempt to dissuade the other, Ritter remained firm.
"We will remove a post from the doorway as quietly as possible and you
do your best to protect me with your rifle," he said.
With a heavy heart, Walter assisted the other to remove the post. He
had grown very fond of Ritter in the few days they had been together.
He admired him for his bravery and the cheeriness and sweetness of his
disposition under trials and suffering. He gave the outlaw's hand a
long, friendly clasp at parting.
"May God bring you back safe and sound," he whispered, brokenly.
With a return pressure of the hand, Ritter dropped to his hands and
knees and wound his way out of the doorway into the darkness. Walter
watched his progress from the doorway with an anxious heart. He saw
him crawl a considerable distance from the hut, then rise to his feet
and saunter carelessly towards the fort. The very boldness of the act
made it successful. The convict on guard no doubt thought the figure
one of his companions, needlessly exposing himself to a bullet from the
hut, and only wondered vaguely at his taking needless risks and perhaps
speculated dully as to what was the nature of the large object he bore.
Carelessly, Ritter sauntered slowly past the fort and approached the
spring. There was no guard posted on that side of the fort and he
partly filled the copper and kneeling by the cool water took a deep
drink and bathed his feverish face in the refreshing liquid. Half of
his mad task was performed, but, as he fully realized, the riskiest
part was yet to come.
Taking another long drink, he lifted the heavy copper and, bearing it
in front of him so as to conceal it as much as possible by his person,
he walked slowly back towards the hut.
Two-thirds of the return was covered in safety when the convict guard
shouted with an oath, "Come back, you fool, do you want to get the
daylights shot out of you?"
Ritter's answer was a taunting laugh as he bounded towards the hut.
The guard's rifle cracked and the fleeing man staggered drunkenly but
sped on, while the convict working the lever of his Winchester with
remorseless cruelty, emptied its contents after the fleeing figure.
At the doorway of the hut, Ritter crumpled to his knees.
"Take the copper," he cried to Walter, "I'm hit." Walter quickly
placed the vessel inside, then, heedless of the rain of bullets,
dragged the wounded man inside.
The others had been awakened by the noise and were quickly at his side.
"Chris, give me a hand to lay him on my bed; Captain, replace the post
in the doorway," Walter commanded with heartsore calmness.
The wounded man opened his eyes as they laid him gently on the couch.
"It's no use bothering with me, old chap," he said, quietly. "I'm hit
in a dozen places and I'm doctor enough to know that I'm going fast."
Walter buried his head by the dying man's side and sobbed dryly.
"There, there," the other said, soothingly, "don't feel bad about it.
It's just what I wished for. I'm going to die like a gentleman."
Walter hushed his sobs with an effort to catch the feebly spoken words.
The wounded man's eyes closed, and Walter held his breath for a second
thinking him dead, but in a moment he opened them again and smiled
faintly, "There's nothing to a race but the finish," he whispered.
A little longer he lay still breathing heavily. Suddenly by a mighty
effort he raised himself on his elbow, his eyes shining with a strange
light. "Not guilty, your honor," he said in a firm voice, then sank
back still and white.
"He's dead," said Walter, brokenly. "He had his wish; he died like a
hero."
They covered the still form reverently with a blanket, and the silence
of bitter grief settled on the little party. The others had not become
so intimate with the dead man as Walter, but they had grown to admire
him greatly, and the thought that he had given up his life in their
service added to their grief.
Walter's suffering was intense and it was well that his mind was of
necessity soon forced into other channels.
The convicts, exasperated at the way they had been outwitted, opened a
heavy continuous fire upon the hut, under cover of which several
attempts were made to carry the hut by assault. But the assaulting
parties were easily discouraged by the steady fire that met them at
each attempt.
"It looks as if they were getting desperate," said the captain. "I
reckon they know now that we can hold out for a long time yet, and they
are gettin' discouraged," and his companions agreed with him.
Towards morning the convicts' fire slackened and gradually ceased.
Just as day was breaking, the distant report of a rifle was borne to
the ears of the besieged.
Charley, who was now able to leave his bed, listened eagerly. "It's
Indian Charley's rifle. I know the sound," he declared, "ten shots; I
wonder what it means."
From the fort, came an answering volley of ten rifle shots.
"It's a signal," cried Walter. "I wonder what it's for."
"Hallo there in the but, we want a parley," hailed a rough voice from
the fort.
"All right," answered Charley, "send forward one man, unarmed."
A convict emerged from the fort and advanced towards the hut with
fearful, hesitating footsteps.
"Don't be afraid, we won't hurt you," Walter called to him
encouragingly.