Every light and every spark of fire had been extinguished in the ranch
of Roaring Bull when its defenders issued from its doorway. They were
armed to the teeth, and glided across the yard to the fence or stockade
that enclosed the buildings, leaving the door slightly open so as to be
ready for speedy retreat.
It had been arranged that, as there was a large open field without bush
or tree in the rear of the ranch, they should leave that side undefended
at first.
"They'll never come into the open as long as they can crawl up through
the bush," Jackson had said, while making his final dispositions.
"They're a'most sure to come up in front thinkin' we're all a-bed. Now,
mind--don't stand still, boys, but walk along as ye fire, to give 'em
the notion there's more of us. An' don't fire at nothin'. They'd think
we was in a funk. An' when you hear me whistle get into the house as
quick as a cotton-tail rabbit an' as sly as a snake."
After the moon went down, everything in and around the ranch was as
silent as the grave, save now and then the stamp of a hoof on the floor
of a shed, where a number of horses stood saddled and bridled ready to
mount at a moment's notice; for Jackson had made up his mind, if it came
to the worst, to mount and make a bold dash with all his household
through the midst of his foes, trusting to taking them by surprise and
to his knowledge of the country for success.
For a long time, probably two hours, the three men stood at their posts
motionless and silent; still there was no sign, either by sight or
sound, of an enemy. The outline of the dark woods was barely visible
against the black sky in front of each solitary watcher, and no moving
thing could be distinguished in the open field behind either by Crux or
Darvall, to each of whom the field was visible. Jackson guarded the
front.
To Dick, unaccustomed as he was to such warfare, the situation was very
trying, and might have told on his nerves severely if he had not been a
man of iron mould; as it was, he had no nerves to speak of! But he was
a man of lively imagination. More than fifty times within those two
hours did he see a black form moving in the darkness that lay between
him and the wood, and more than fifty times was his Winchester rifle
raised to his shoulder; but as often did the caution "don't fire at
nothin'" rise to his memory.
The stockade was of peculiar construction, because its owner and maker
was eccentric, and a mechanical genius. Not only were the pickets of
which it was composed very strong and planted with just space between to
permit of firing, but there was a planking of strong boards, waist high,
all round the bottom inside, which afforded some protection to defenders
by concealing them when they stooped and changed position.
While matters were in this state outside, Mary Jackson and Buttercup
were standing at an upper window just opposite the front gate, the
latter with a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss of the last century, loaded
with buckshot in her hands. Mary stood beside her sable domestic ready
to direct her not as to how, but where and when, to use the ancient
weapon.
"You must be _very_ careful, Buttercup," said Mary in a low voice,
"_not_ to fire till I tell you, and to point only _where_ I tell you,
else you'll shoot father. And _do_ keep your finger off the trigger!
By the way, have you cocked it?"
"O missy, I forgit dat," answered the damsel with a self-condemned look,
as she corrected the error. "But don' you fear, Missy Mary. I's use'
to dis yar blunn'erbus. Last time I fire 'im was at a raven. Down hoed
de raven, blow'd to atims, an' down hoed me too--cause de drefful t'ing
kicks like a Texas mule. But bress you, I don' mind dat. I's used to
it!"
Buttercup gave a little sniff of grave scorn with her flat nose, as
though to intimate that the ordinary ills of life were beneath _her_
notice.
We have said that all fires had been extinguished, but this is not
strictly correct, for in the room where the two maidens watched there
was an iron stove so enclosed that the fire inside did not show, and as
it was fed with charcoal there were neither flames nor sparks to betray
its presence. On this there stood a large cast-iron pot full of water,
the bubbling of which was the only sound that broke the profound
stillness of the night, while the watchers scarcely breathed, so
intently did they listen.
At last the patient and self-restraining Dick saw a dark object moving
towards his side of the stockade, which he felt was much too real to be
classed with the creatures of his imagination which had previously given
him so much trouble. Without a moment's hesitation the rifle flew to
his shoulder, and the prolonged silence was broken by the sharp report,
while an involuntary half-suppressed cry proved that he had not missed
his mark. The dark object hastily retreated. A neighbouring cliff
echoed the sounds, and two shots from his comrades told the sailor that
they also were on the alert.
Instantly the night was rendered hideous by a series of wild yells and
whoops, while, for a moment, the darkness gave place to a glare of light
as a hundred rifles vomited their deadly contents, and the sound of many
rushing feet was heard upon the open sward in front of the ranch.
The three male defenders had ducked their heads below the protecting
breast-work when the volley was fired, and then, discarding all idea of
further care, they skipped along their respective lines, yelling and
firing the repeaters so rapidly, that, to any one ignorant of the true
state of things, it must have seemed as if the place were defended by a
legion of demons. To add to the hullabaloo Buttercup's blunderbuss
poured forth its contents upon a group of red warriors who were rushing
towards the front gate, with such a cannon-like sound and such wonderful
effect, that the rush was turned into a sudden and limping retreat. The
effect indeed, was more severe even than Buttercup had intended, for a
stray buckshot had actually taken a direction which had been feared, and
grazed her master's left arm! Happily the wound was very slight, and,
to do the poor damsel justice, she could not see that her master was
jumping from one place to another like a caged lion. Like the same
animal, however, he gave her to understand what she had done, by
shouting in a thunderous bass roar that fully justified his sobriquet--
"Mind your eye, Buttercup! Not so low next time!"
The immediate result of this vigorous defence was to make the Indians
draw off and retire to the woods--presumably for consultation. By
previous arrangement the negro girl issued from the house with three
fresh repeaters in her arms, ran round to the combatants with them and
returned with their almost empty rifles. These she and Mary proceeded
to reload in the hall, and then returned to their post at the upper
front window.
The morning was by this time pretty well advanced, and Jackson felt a
little uncertain as to what he should now do. It was still rather dark;
but in a very short time, he knew, dawn would spread over the east, when
it would, of course, be quite impossible to defend the walls of the
little fort without revealing the small number of its defenders. On the
other hand, if they should retire at once the enemy might find a
lodgement within, among the outbuildings, before there was light enough
to prevent them by picking off the leaders; in which case the assailants
would be able to apply fire to the wooden wails of the house without
much risk.
"If they manage to pile up enough o' brush to clap a light to," he
grumbled to himself in an undertone, "it's all up wi' us."
The thought had barely passed through his brain, when a leaden
messenger, intended to pass through it, carried his cap off his head,
and the fire that had discharged it almost blinded him. Bigfoot, the
chief of the savages, had wriggled himself, snake-fashion, up to the
stockade unseen, and while Roaring Bull was meditating what was best to
be done, he had nearly succeeded in rendering him unable to do anything
at all.
The shot was the signal for another onslaught. Once more the woods rang
with fiendish yells and rattling volleys. Bigfoot, with the agility and
strength of a gorilla, leaped up and over the stockade and sprung down
into Jackson's arms, while Darvall and Crux resumed their almost
ubiquitous process of defence, and Buttercup's weapon again thundered
forth its defiance.
This time the fight was more protracted. Bigfoot's career was indeed
stopped for the time being, for Jackson not only crushed the life almost
out of him by an unloving embrace, but dealt him a prize-fighter's blow
which effectually stretched him on the ground. Not a moment too soon,
however, for the white man had barely got rid of the red one, when
another savage managed to scale the wall. A blow from the butt of
Jackson's rifle dropped him, and then the victor fired so rapidly, and
with such effect, that a second time the Reds were repulsed.
Jackson did not again indulge in meditation, but blew a shrill blast on
a dog-whistle--a preconcerted signal--on hearing which his two comrades
made for the house door at full speed.
Only one other of the Indians, besides the two already mentioned, had
succeeded in getting over the stockade. This man was creeping up to the
open door of the house, and, tomahawk in hand, had almost reached it
when Dick Darvall came tearing round the corner.
"Hallo! Crux," cried Dick, "that you?"
The fact that he received no reply was sufficient for Dick, who was too
close to do more than drive the point of his rifle against the chest of
the Indian, who went down as if he had been shot, while Dick sprang in
and held open the door. A word from Jackson and Crux as they ran
forward sufficed. They passed in and the massive door was shut and
barred, while an instant later at least half-a-dozen savages ran up
against it and began to thunder on it with their rifle-butts and
tomahawks.
"To your windows!" shouted Jackson, as he sprang up the wooden
stair-case, three steps at a time. "Fresh rifles here, Mary!"
"Yes, father," came in a silvery and most unwarlike voice from the hall
below.
Another moment and three shots rang from the three sides of the house,
and of the three Indians who were at the moment in the act of clambering
over the stockade, one fell inside and two out. Happily, daylight soon
began to make objects distinctly visible, and the Indians were well
aware that it would now be almost certain death to any one who should
attempt to climb over.
It is well known that, as a rule, savages do not throw away their lives
recklessly. The moment it became evident that darkness would no longer
serve them, those who were in the open retired to the woods, and potted
at the windows of the ranch, but, as the openings from which the
besieged fired were mere loop-holes made for the purpose of defence,
they had little hope of hitting them at long range except by chance.
Those of the besiegers who happened to be near the stockade took shelter
behind the breast-work, and awaited further orders from their chief--
ignorant of the fact that he had already fallen.
From the loop-holes of the room which Jackson had selected to defend,
the shed with the saddled horses was visible, so that no one could reach
it without coming under the fire of his deadly weapon. There was also a
window in this room opening upon the back of the house and commanding
the field which we have before mentioned as being undefended while the
battle was waged outside. By casting a glance now and then through this
window he could see any foe who might show himself in that direction.
The only part of the fort that seemed exposed to great danger now was
the front door, where the half-dozen savages, with a few others who had
joined them, were still battering away at the impregnable door.
Dick, who held the garret above, could not see the door, of course, nor
could he by any manoeuvre manage to bring his rifle to bear on it from
his loop-hole, and he dared not leave his post lest more Indians should
manage to scale the front stockade.
Buttercup, in the room below, had indeed a better chance at her window,
but she was too inexpert in warfare to point the blunderbuss straight
down and fire with effect, especially knowing, as she did, that the
sight of her arm in the act would be the signal for a prompt fusillade.
But the girl was not apparently much concerned about that, or anything
else. The truth is that she possessed in an eminent and enviable degree
the spirit of entire trust in a leader. She was under orders, and
awaited the word of command with perfect equanimity! She even smiled
slightly--if such a mouth could be said to do anything slightly--when
Mary left her to take fresh rifles to the defenders overhead.
At last the command came from the upper regions, in tones that caused
the very savages to pause a moment and look at each other in surprise.
They did not pause long, however!
"Now, Buttercup," thundered Roaring Bull, "give it 'em--hot!"
At the word the girl calmly laid aside her weapon, lifted the big iron
pot with familiar and businesslike facility, and emptied it over the
window.
The result is more easily imagined than described. A yell that must
have been heard miles off was the prelude to a stampede of the most
lively nature. It was intensified, if possible, by the further action
of the negress, who, seizing the blunderbuss, pointed it at the flying
crowd, and, shutting both eyes, fired! Not a buckshot took effect on
the savages, for Buttercup, if we may say so, aimed too low, but the
effect was more stupendous than if the aim had been good, for the heavy
charge drove up an indescribable amount of peppery dust and small stones
into the rear of the flying foe, causing another yell which was not an
echo but a magnified reverberation of the first. Thus Buttercup had the
satisfaction of utterly routing her foes without killing a single man!
Daylight had fairly set in by that time, and the few savages who had not
succeeded in vaulting the stockade had concealed themselves behind the
various outhouses.
The proprietor of the ranch began now to have some hope of keeping the
Indians at bay until the troops should succour him. He even left his
post and called his friends to a council of war, when a wild cheer was
heard in the woods. It was followed by the sound of firing. No sooner
was this heard than the savages concealed outside of the breastwork rose
as one man and ran for the woods.
"It's the troops!" exclaimed Dick hopefully.
"Troopers never cheer like that," returned Jackson with an anxious look.
"It's more like my poor cow-boys, and, if so, they will have no chance
wi' such a crowd o' Reds. We must ride to help them, an' you'll have to
ride with us, Mary. We daren't leave you behind, lass, wi' them
varmints skulkin' around."
"I'm ready, father," said Mary with a decided look, though it was
evident, from the pallor of her cheek, that she was ill at ease.
"Now, look here, Dick," said Jackson, quickly, "you will go down and
open the front gate. I'll go with 'ee wi' my repeater to keep an eye on
the hidden reptiles, so that if one of them shows so much as the tip of
his ugly nose he'll have cause to remember it. You will go to my
loophole, Crux, an keep your eyes open all round--specially on the
horses. When the gate is open I'll shout, and you'll run down to the
shed wi' the women.--You understand?" Crux nodded.
Acting on this plan Dick ran to the gate; Jackson followed, rifle in
hand, and, having reached the middle of the fort, he faced round; only
just in time to see a gun barrel raised from behind a shed. Before he
could raise his own weapon a shot was heard and the gun-barrel
disappeared, while the Indian who raised it fell wounded on the ground.
"Well done, Crux!" he exclaimed, at the same moment firing his own rifle
at a head which was peeping round a corner. The head vanished instantly
and Darvall rejoined him, having thrown the gate wide open.
"Come round wi' me an' drive the reptiles out," cried Jackson. At the
same time he uttered a roar that a bull might have envied, and they both
rushed round to the back of the outhouses where three Indians were found
skulking.
At the sudden and unexpected onslaught, they fired an ineffectual volley
and fled wildly through the now open gate, followed by several shots
from both pursuers, whose aim, however, was no better than their own had
been.
Meanwhile Crux and the girls, having reached the shed according to
orders, mounted their respective steeds and awaited their comrades.
They had not long to wait. Jackson and Dick came round the corner of
the shed at full speed, and, without a word, leaped simultaneously into
their saddles.
"Keep close to me, girls,--close up!" was all that Jackson said as he
dashed spurs into his horse, and, sweeping across the yard and through
the gate, made straight for that part of the woods where yells, shouts,
and firing told that a battle was raging furiously.