Chris awoke next morning to find his father standing over him.
"Well, my boy; better?"
Chris started up, uttered a squeak and screwed up his face with a laugh,
and fell back.
"How's my pony, father?"
"What was the matter?" said the doctor anxiously. "A pain anywhere
inside?"
"No, father, only I seem to hurt all over, I'm so sore. But how's my
pony?"
"Let the pony wait, boy. I want to be certain that you have no serious
hurt. Wait a minute. Let me try."
The doctor began his examination, and question after question came.
"Does that hurt?--Does this?--Now then, do you feel anything when I
press here--or there--or there?"
"Yes--yes--yes!" cried the boy petulantly, as he winced and started and
cried "Oh!" and "Ah!" and "I say, father!" and "Oh, please don't!"
"I must make sure, my boy."
"But I'm sure, father; won't that do?" cried the boy, in a tone of
remonstrance. "Of course all that hurts me; you pulled and pinched me
about so. I was as sore as sore all over before you began, and now I'm
ever so much worse."
"No, you're not, boy. You're all right. There's nothing broken.
You're bruised and strained, but that's all. You'll soon come right.
Sleep well?"
"Part of the time, father. The rest was all waste, and I lay there
feeling as if I ought to be keeping the watch, and thinking that some
one else ought to be sleeping who could."
"But you were sleeping soundly when I came."
"Of course, father. I wanted to make up for lost time."
"And you feel now as if you can't touch food?"
Chris stared.
"Are you saying that as a joke, father?"
"Certainly not. You feel as if you had no appetite?"
"That I don't, father. I feel as if I could eat anything."
"Nothing the matter at all but stiff. That will soon pass off."
"Then you're not going to mix up anything horrid for me, father?"
"Nothing worse than tea or coffee; and you may have damper and bacon to
take afterwards," said the doctor, laughing. "Have a good wash and rub
out in the sunshine before breakfast. Then eat a good meal and lie
about all day again in the sunshine."
"What for, father?"
"To give nature time to get your bruises right."
"But you won't tell me how my pony is--and he's worse than I am. Don't
say he's tired, father?" cried the boy piteously, for the doctor's face
looked very serious.
"Certainly not. Poor beast, he's far more stiff and sore than you are,
besides having all those bad wounds."
"But they're getting better?" cried Chris anxiously.
"They're no worse, my boy," replied the doctor, "but they have had no
time to get better. I have stopped them from getting into a bad
condition, and the poor thing is limping about grazing as if nothing
much was the matter. Are you satisfied?"
"Oh yes," cried Chris eagerly, as he rose and began to try himself in
different attitudes. "It has done me good to hear it. I--I don't think
I'm quite so stiff this morning."
"That's right."
"Are we going on to-day?"
"On? No. We're prisoners; and besides, we couldn't start with you and
your pony in hospital."
"What about the Indians?"
"We haven't seen a sign of them. They're either laying some trap for
us, or they have been regularly sickened and have stolen away in the
night."
"Are you going to see?"
"Perhaps," said the doctor; "but I'm more disposed to keep a quiet
lookout, and rest. We're quite safe here, and provisions are more
plentiful than I thought for. Griggs has found the spoor of some big
buck and his young does. They have straggled into the valley during the
night."
"That's good news, father."
"For the larder: yes. What do you say to taking up land here and making
a fresh start in life?"
"Wouldn't do, father," said the boy, shaking his head. "Too far away
from everybody."
"Yes, it would be the life of a hermit. Ready to come out?"
"Yes, I'm going out to the water-bucket, as you advised."
"That's right; go. It will give you an appetite for your breakfast."
It was Ned's turn to keep watch from the observatory, as they termed a
little shelter, roughly-made on the top terrace; but Chris would have
taken his place had not his father interposed.
"But it seems so hard for him to go up there while we're having a good
meal down here," said Chris wistfully.
"He shall be looked after," said the doctor, "and I don't want you to do
much climbing about yet. You must rest."
Chris was silent, and took an opportunity to have a word or two with Ned
before he started to climb up the narrow ways.
"That was very good of you, old chap," whispered Ned, gripping his
comrade by the left arm, with the result that Chris groaned and ground
his teeth.
"Oh, you brute!" he said sharply.
"Chris!--I am sorry."
"What's the good of being sorry? That's the sorest place I've got."
"I didn't know, old chap."
"I did; and I do now," replied Chris, rubbing the spot softly. "Never
mind."
"But I do mind. I ought to have thought. Just too when you'd offered
to do my work for me so that I could stop down to breakfast."
"Don't say any more about it," said Chris, with a grin of pain in his
face dying out before a rather malicious smile. "They won't let me help
you one way, so I will in another. I'm precious hungry, and I won't let
your breakfast grow cold."
"Oh, thank you, old chap. That's very good of you, for I'm precious
hungry too."
"I thought you were," continued Chris, looking quite solemn now. "I'll
eat your lot for you."
For a few moments Ned's face was a study. It was so full of dismay.
Then there was a look of doubt, and directly after he had read the
truth.
"Get out!" he cried, and his hand was raised to give his comrade a heavy
slap on the back; but Chris cried "Murder!" and shrank away.
"Oh, I forgot again," cried Ned hurriedly.
"You'd better be off up now, my boy," said Bourne. "Don't forget the
glass."
"No, father. All right," cried the boy, and exchanging glances with
Chris and following up his own with a clench of the fist, he took the
binocular and hurried up to the lookout, while the rest applied
themselves to the needed meal, but half-expecting to be alarmed, and
impressed always by the expectation of attack, every one's weapons being
kept ready to hand.
Chris ate, as his father said laughingly, like an impostor, a remark
which Griggs, who did not join them till the meal had been going on for
some minutes, readily endorsed.
Chris laughed, and the remarks did not spoil his appetite; but his
thoughts were busy all through, and he looked anxiously for the
termination of the meal, and when all was over he turned uneasily to
Griggs.
"I say," he whispered, "oughtn't some one to go and relieve Ned?"
"What for?" was the uncompromising response.
"What for? Why, because he must be starving."
"Poor fellow! He must have an appetite then," said Griggs, laughing.
"Did you see what I took up to him?"
"Oh," cried Chris remorsefully. "What a shame! Here was I thinking
that every one had been selfish to the poor fellow, while all the
time--"
"We had all played quite fair--you most of all. Here, how are all the
aches and pains now?"
"Getting better. I have no right to make so much fuss about them and
play at being in hospital."
"You're not, lad. You're only doing what the doctor ordered. A fellow
can't fall nearly a mile perpendicular and slantingdicular without being
a good deal shaken."
"How far?" said Chris, laughing.
"Well, say half-a-mile."
"What nonsense!"
"Say quarter of a mile then," cried Griggs sharply.
"Divided by what?"
"You are hard to please. I didn't measure the distance; but I will as
soon as we've got rid of these precious redskins."
"Don't," said Chris. "I didn't fall far, and it was most of it sliding
down."
"Turn round," cried the American, "and set your eyes at the very bottom
of the cliff, and then run them up to the sharp edge where we saw you
having that battle with your poor mustang before you went over, and then
tell me again that you didn't fall far."
"Don't want to," said Chris, who looked all the same, and felt a little
shiver as of something cold running down his back. "There, I'm off."
"Where are you going? The doctor said you were to rest."
"That's what I'm going to do," said Chris, "but I must go and see how my
pony is."
"Ah, well, I suppose that won't hurt you. I'll go up and have a chat
with Ned, and see if I can mark down any of the enemy."
They parted, and Chris walked over the rugged stones and down the slopes
till he was at the bottom of the valley, with his feet brushing aside
the long rich grass in which the mules were standing knee-deep, and
which they neglected for the fresh green branches of the shrubs which
grew thickly here and there.
"I forgot all about the snakes," said the boy to himself; "but there
can't be any here, or the jacks wouldn't be so quiet."
Quiet they were, for though he walked right through the browsing herd
they hardly turned their heads in his direction.
It was different when he reached the half-dozen ponies, which still kept
themselves aloof as if preferring their own more aristocratic company.
They were so rested and well fed that they were disposed to turn
skittish, and two of them communicated their spirits to three of the
others, which joined in, tossing their heads, prancing, and making a
show of treating their visitor as one who was hiding bridle and bit
behind him, ready to entrap and change their pleasant hour's grazing
there amongst the rich succulent grass to a mouthful of hard iron with
the burden of heavy riders upon their backs.
In fact, five of the ponies contrived to keep the advancing lad at a
distance, while the sixth, which had been grazing slowly, suddenly
raised its head and stood staring at him.
At the first glance Chris set this down to feebleness, and looked upon
it as a bad sign. But he altered his mind directly after, when he
walked up to the animal's side, patting its neck and passing its soft
ears through his hand, for the poor beast whinnied softly, and slowly
advanced its muzzle to rest it against the boy's arm.
"Why, I believe you're better, old chap," cried Chris, as he began to
examine the pony's wounds, seeing at once that they appeared to be
drying up, while when he moved a yard or two the animal followed him,
limping, it is true, but not in a way that suggested permanent injury.
"Why, this is cheering," cried Chris eagerly. "I thought that you and I
were never going to have a long gallop over the plains again, and now
you look as if you'll be ready for me to mount in a fortnight at the
most--perhaps in a week, eh, old chap? There, I am glad. I say, I
should like as soon as the Indians have gone, for you to carry me up to
the head of the valley there, and then for you to show me exactly where
it was that you fell, and--Hallo! What's that?"
Chris looked round sharply, but could see nothing but the groups of
grazing horses and mules.
"It sounded as if some one had thrown a stone. Can't be Ned stalking me
and up to his games, can it?--There it goes again."
He started round to look behind him towards the terraced fortress he had
left, but all was quiet there and no sign visible of Ned or any one to
play any trick.
Then again something--something, he knew not what; but it was as if a
pebble had fallen from the sky.
"Not going to hail, is it?" thought Chris; and then he laughed at the
absurdity of the idea, for the sky was perfectly clear.
_Rap_!
Another something fallen from on high, but the mystery was at an end,
for he not only saw it falling but where it had struck, to stick
quivering and nearly upright amongst the grass.
An arrow, and from its slope it must have come from the unexplored side
of the valley, and been shot high in the air for it to stand so nearly
upright in the grass.
"Indians on the other side," thought Chris, and his first thought was to
run round the grazing animals and drive them towards the part where they
had made their camp.
He started to do this, but stopped at once, uttering a groan of misery,
for in spite of his brave effort, his run proved to be a miserable
hobble, and then the agony he suffered in his side forced him to stop.
"Help! help!" he shouted hoarsely, but he felt that his cry sounded like
a call to the animals amongst whom he stood, and as far as he could make
out there was no one visible to heed his waving hat.
"I must fire my revolver," he thought, and his hand went to his belt to
unbutton the leather flap of the holster; but he did not withdraw the
weapon, for he knew that the report would scare the poor beasts and send
them galloping in all directions.
The time occupied in this was very short, but it was long enough for two
more arrows to fall very near him, one nearly upright to cut its way
with a sharp whizz amongst the grass and bury its head in the soft earth
at an angle of forty-five degrees.
Then another idea struck Chris--tardily, for he felt that he should have
thought of it at first.
Thrusting his hand into his breast, he drew forth a little chain, at the
end of which was a metal whistle, and the alarm note he blew sounded
piercing and shrill.
He did not stop there, but did what he felt was best. Hobbling to the
side of his mustang and talking caressingly to it the while, he took
hold of the thick forelock and began to lead it towards where he hoped
to find safety.
The docile little animal made no opposition to being led from the
pleasant pasture, but started and shivered as there came the sharp whizz
of another arrow--too painful a memory to his ear--making the poor beast
limp along a little faster in obedience to his master's effort to get
him away.
Then another arrow came terribly near them, and Chris whistled again,
his spirits rising though, for the rest of the animals, taking in the
fact of one of them being led away from either corn or water, began to
neigh and squeal as they closed in after their leader, so that if there
proved to be time enough before the arrows took effect, Chris felt, as
he blew a long and shrill note again, that he would be able to guide the
herd into safety.
"Why are they not on the lookout?" groaned the boy, for his progress was
painfully slow; "they ought to see that something is wrong." But he was
ignorant of the fact that nothing was visible from the lookout but
himself and the animals trotting about playfully as they kept pretty
close to the wounded mustang.
An arrow again, and another, each wonderfully near, but no harm was
done. Then another which fell with a dull thud, and was followed by a
wild scream which startled the herd into disorder, sending the mules
helter-skelter, kicking and plunging, all but one, which galloped away
by itself, turning its head the while to bite at an arrow which had
buried itself in its back.
That strange scream had done what Chris's whistle failed in, drawn
attention to something being wrong, while directly after a little puff
of smoke darted from the upper terrace, followed by its report and the
reverberation of echoes. Then another shot, and another, and no more
arrows fell, though Chris in his slow progress suffered as much agony as
if they had still been dropping all around.
But now the doctor came running out, followed by Wilton, and under the
cover of a few more shots the little herd was driven in, slowly enough,
for the wounded mule progressed more and more slowly till it hung back
close alongside of Chris's mustang, showing that it was badly hurt.
"Only enough to prove that the enemy are well on the watch," said the
doctor, after he had seen to the wounded mule, "and a warning to us that
we must not relax our care."
Griggs had by this time descended from the terrace, it having been his
rifle that had put an end to the coming of the arrows.
"Hardly thought they could have shot so far," he said; "but after all,
they didn't get an arrow much more than half-way here. Say, didn't do
you much good, Master Chris, hurrying back like that."
"I'm afraid it's the mustang that has suffered," said Chris. "I didn't
hurt, only it was dreadfully hard to find that I couldn't run."
"You ought to be very thankful that you can walk, Chris," said the
doctor quietly. "It is next door to marvellous that you should have
escaped without a broken bone. But now then, Griggs, matters begin to
look serious. What is to be done?"
"That's just what I have been thinking, sir. The enemy isn't a bit
satisfied, and the next time they begin making targets of us they may be
more fortunate."
"What I am afraid of is that they may now get upon the high ground above
us here."
"And that would be awkward, sir," said the American thoughtfully. Then
after a pause--"We've got the whip hand of them with our rifles."
"Of course."
"And we've shown them a little of what we can do, but not enough.
There's only one thing left now."
"And what's that?" asked the doctor, after a glance at his son.
"Give them such a lesson that they won't stop to have any more, but make
off into the desert."
"That's very good advice," replied the doctor, "but how can it be done
without risk to ourselves?"
"Let them think we daren't stir away from here, while we wait for a few
days to let some one get well again, and his nag too, while we have not
been wasting time, but under the screen of hunting and shooting have
been watching, and when once we have got to know where they camp, we
must come upon them suddenly some night, and the rifles must do the
rest."
"Well, Chris, what do you think of that?" said the doctor, turning to
where the two boys sat listening.
"Can't be done," said Chris shortly.
"Why?"
"How are you going to find out where they make their camp? They're in
one place to-day and another to-morrow."
"Yes, Griggs, that is the difficulty."
"Well, I know that, sir," replied Griggs; "but can you think of a better
plan?"
"Only that of waiting till we see them some time in the open, and then
coming out to attack them."
"Half-a-dozen of us against a hundred," said Griggs dryly; "all mounted
men who can ride as if they were part of their horses. We could shoot a
good many of them, of course, but they'd be too much for us if we killed
or wounded fifty of them. For how many of us would go down in doing
it?"
"They could spare ten," said Bourne, who had just sauntered up, "while
we couldn't spare one."
"No, nor half one," said Griggs. "What we've got to do, gentlemen, is
something that will give them such a startler that they'll have had
enough of it; and it must be done without our getting a scratch."
"Yes," said the doctor; "but how?"
"That's what we've got to think out, sir. We ought to be a bit cleverer
than a set of savage Indians. I vote we all make up our minds to think
it out. We've got plenty of time, for we're all right here as to food
and shelter, and can't move for a week certain."
"On account of Chris and the injured beasts," said the doctor. "Very
well; we must all put on our wisdom caps and puzzle it out. I'll go and
have a chat with Wilton now."
The little meeting broke up, and Griggs went to spend his short time
before going on duty in cleaning his rifle, while, as if attracted to
the same spot, Chris and Ned followed him to a sheltered nook near the
place where a bucket was standing ready for sending down to the running
water and bringing up refilled.