THE GIRL BEHIND THE GUN
Alone on the hill, and already strung to the highest tension of dread
by Grenville's long absence, after what he had said of a prompt return,
Elaine had been struck with alarm to the core of her being, as the
various sounds came clearly up from the jungle about the disintegrated
wreck.
It was fears for Sidney, not for herself, that had finally possessed
her fluttering heart as the muffled shot and subsequent cries floated
uncertainly from down there in the darkness. She knew that Grenville
had no gun, and was, therefore, certain it was he who must have
suffered a wound.
With a blazing torch she had run to the edge of the terrace, to light
Sidney home, if, by any bare chance, he had escaped. She was there,
transfixed by apprehension, when at length, with cries like a pack of
wolves, the Dyaks came racing towards the clearing.
Meantime Grenville had gained a considerable lead of the devils on his
heels, and, on passing the spring, had caught a glimpse of Elaine with
her brand of fire. He paused for a second to shout essential
directions, lest she might have forgotten in her plight.
"Don't fire, Elaine, till you see them on the trail!"
With that he darted abruptly to the left, for the animal trail that
would lead him to his ladder. He had no more than gained it when, with
a chorus of demoniac yells and screams of triumph, the straggling
pursuers broke madly into the clearing and darted across it for the
trail.
Even then, afraid that Elaine might fail to perform her allotted task,
Grenville sped up his ladder like a creature of the wild, and came to
the end of his platform.
The Dyaks were immediately storming the barrier, the breach of which
was promptly discovered, and Sidney's alarm was jerkily resounding.
Like a spirit of maternity, nerved to any ordeal by the sense of
protecting one she loved, Elaine crouched low beside the cannon, her
dilated eyes intent upon the trail. She had clung to a hope that
Grenville might yet appear in time to take charge of the gun. But
suddenly now, to her terror, four or more figures darkly appeared on
the ledge above the gate, coming swiftly towards her position.
She thrust the torch desperately down upon the fuse, saw the powder
spew out a shower of sparks, and rolled and tumbled hotly from the
place.
She was suddenly agonized by the thought that the thing would fail, but
Grenville had barely reached the solid rock when the cannon abruptly
thundered.
A wide-spreading cataract of fire was projected in a red-and-yellow
cone across the space between the brink and the wall behind the trail,
as the powder poured its punishment into the ranks of the creatures
leaping upward to destruction. The detonation, sharp, crisp,
appallingly loud in the stillness of the island, fairly stunned Elaine,
now kneeling helplessly among the rocks.
Shrieks of dismay and sudden agony immediately succeeded the explosion,
while its echoes still rattled wildly back from the distant hills of
rock. In the utter darkness, by contrast following the one brief
glare, there was nothing to be seen along the path. But wounded men
were staggering downward, in blind retreat, already abandoned by their
unscathed companions, in flight below the gate.
Grenville had run to his store of bombs, instead of coming straight to
the gun. He meant to be prepared against a second attack. As his
active figure now appeared where he hastened brinkward, watching both
trail and clearing, Elaine beheld him at last. She arose and stumbled
towards him, her feet still heavy with her dread, her heart wildly
leaping in joy.
"Were you shot?" she cried. "Are you hurt?"
"No, right as a fiddler!" he assured her, quickly, glancing down at the
shadowy path. "I only wish I could bait them again and lead the
remainder to the gun!"
He charged the piece at once, having brought for the purpose a bamboo
canister of powder, open and heaping at the end. This he thrust
complete down the muzzle of the cannon, to be rammed home with dozens
of his slugs.
Cries still arose from the jungle, more faintly, now, as the Dyaks
retreated down the island. Excitement still rang in the air. Neither
Grenville nor Elaine felt certain the attack would not be renewed.
There was something dark that Sidney could see, crawling painfully down
the incline of the trail, assisting something more inert. He purposely
shielded Elaine from the sight, lest she understand too well. He much
preferred that the Dyaks recover their possible slain from about the
place.
Elaine was still too tensely wrought for reaction. She could hardly
understand how the situation had been changed so abruptly from attack
into utter rout. Her ears were still ringing from the cannon's
deafening roar. She had taken no time to comprehend the results of
what she had accomplished.
"How shall we know if they do come back?" she questioned, excitedly.
"They probably broke the alarm."
"I'll repair it soon. Did it ring? But, of course, you couldn't have
taken time to hear. Did you understand me when I shouted?"
"I heard it, horribly shaken," said Elaine. "I heard so many awful
noises. I heard you call, of course. But, perhaps, I didn't wait long
enough, after all. I don't seem to remember. I waited as long as I
could. I hope I only frightened them away!" She sat down, overtaken
at last by weakness in her limbs.
The torch she had used had fallen from her hand. It barely smoldered
on the rocks. Grenville extinguished it completely, then continued to
prime the cannon as before, with powder sprinkled on the vent, and a
fuse laid for several feet along the ledge. He was glad to note the
little piece had been securely held in place upon its log by its
wrappings and the weight of heavy stones.
"I'll go down and examine the gate," he said, aware that, though the
Dyaks had undoubtedly suffered severely, a still attack might yet be
attempted in the dark. Therefore, leaving Elaine to recover as best
she might, he was soon moving cautiously along the narrow ledge.
The night had precipitated war. That he and Elaine would be called
upon to endure war's customary hazards, hardships, and horrors he was
grimly ready to concede. She had made an amazingly fine beginning. It
was certainly not the time for him to weaken her now by misplaced
tenderness, vastly as he wished to spare her shock and trial.
The crawling objects he had seen from above had vanished beyond the
solid wall he had built to shut out the tiger. All the way down to
this barrier he made his way, Elaine meanwhile watching from the cliff.
There were dark, irregular blotches here and there along the rocks, and
on these he scraped a hiding film of dust. How much of the contents of
the gun had been expended uselessly against the wall could not be
determined in the dark. He felt assured a heavy toll had been
collected on the trail, if not in killed, at least in wounded and,
doubtless, disabled men.
The cord arranged to sound his alarm had been broken in the charge. He
found the ends, repaired the damage, crept further along to scan the
silent and deserted clearing, then promptly returned to secure a
basket, and boldly went down to gather extra fruit.
"I wish I knew where to get some meat," he told Elaine, as he came with
his plunder to the terrace. "I don't know when I shall have another
hour so absolutely safe."
But beyond removing his ladder and bridge, he performed no more labor
that night. It was not yet late. Elaine was too excited to retire.
She sat with him, nervously listening to all the far sounds of the
jungle, as he kindled their fire to a blaze.
"I wonder how long we can keep it up--go on as we are going now," she
reflected aloud at last. "Mustn't they get us in the end?"
"Well--not till we've made it a fair exchange, at least."
"There must be a dozen of them about us, six or more to our one."
"There were, perhaps, an hour ago, but hardly so many now. One shot
himself, down in the jungle, gunning for me, while the cannon---- But
your intuition was accurate--a second boatload did arrive to join the
first." He added a brief recital of what he had seen and what had
taken place at the rotted barque, sparing the details which, he felt,
would more alarm than assure her, respecting "Buli" and the drama
played at the clearing.
"Two boatloads!" she repeated. "What reason could they possibly have
for coming at last to this island? They couldn't have known we were
here--at least not the first who came."
"No," said Grenville, slowly, reflecting that the time for his
revelation was, perhaps, a trifle overdue, "they came, I believe, to
secure the treasure in the cave."
Elaine glanced up at him quickly.
"The treasure you have joked about before?"
"It was not altogether a joke. The treasure is there--or, at least, it
was, before I removed it to the passage."
"Not something actually valuable? What sort of things do you mean?"
"Gold and precious stones--a lot of heavy plunder--enough of the jewels
alone to fill a hat."
Elaine slightly gasped. "And they came for that? And you have taken
it out--have hidden it, rather--and you think, perhaps, they have
missed it?"
"No, I hardly believe they have been to the cave as yet. It isn't
theirs, the beggars! Not that it's of any account to us, but I don't
feel sure if I gave it up they'd depart and leave us in peace. At any
rate, I don't propose they shall have it."
Elaine was silent for a moment, and filled with wonder.
"How did you manage to find it?"
"Entirely by accident. I pulled down a stone that concealed a secret
chamber, where someone had walled it in. It has doubtless been there
for many generations--as these fellows have probably known."
"And suppose they find the chamber looted--may they not be all the more
savage and eager to tear us to pieces?"
"Well--I should say their ambition in that respect has already about
reached its limit."
Elaine could still feel her heart pounding heavily in her bosom. She
returned to her original query.
"If we go on like this for a week, what then? Is there anything in the
world to prevent them from waiting and waiting and waiting, till----"
She did not finish her sentence, but the slightest shudder shook her
frame.
"They were goaded to action to-night," said Grenville, hopefully.
"They may feel sufficiently aggrieved to return for more. If not--they
must be invited."
"But surely you'll not attempt such a venture as this again?"
Grenville rubbed at his jaw. "I wish it might be duplicated! No such
luck is likely. But I feel very certain we'd both rather cash in
fighting than to starve like rats in a trap."
"Yes," Elaine faltered, in her quiet way of courage, "but--if it has to
come--let's try to--receive it here together."