AT BAY!
Tobe Castor led the way at a rapid pace, his tall form making some
fairly wonderful leaps, doubling up in order to carry his long legs
clear of the dense weeds and shrubs. At any other time his queer antics
would have provoked a smile from the spectators, but now they were
entirely too much concerned about their own safety to indulge in such
demonstrations.
Behind them, at less than a half-mile's distance, were a score of
bloodthirsty demons, yelling and whooping in eager exultation, as
though their hands were already upon the coveted scalps, and all
resistance was over. This knowledge, then, was not the most favorable
for awakening a sense of the ludicrous, and the only idea his great
bounds called forth was a desire to keep pace with him.
More than once the old scout was forced to slacken his pace, so as to
avoid distancing the jaded horses, and an uneasy light filled his eyes
as he noted how rapidly the savages were coming up with them, lessening
the intervening distance with every bound. And yet not more than
one-half the distance to the hill had been covered.
"Make haste, Ed--dog-on it, man, _put_ the critters down to it!" he
hissed, impatiently, at one of these slackenings. "Use your knife fer a
spur."
"Where are you going? They're overtaking us fast!" apprehensively cried
the old settler, glancing backward over his shoulder.
"To the hill yander--ef they let us. Use the knife, I tell ye--ef you
don't, we're goners!"
Under the impulse of this novel spur, the horses dashed forward with
considerably-augmented speed, and now the hills loomed up quite near.
But so were the red-skins, who now began sending their compliments
after the fugitives, in the shape of sundry leaden bullets, but as
the Indians feared to pause in order to secure a good aim, lest the
fugitives should thus be able to distance them, there was little to
dread save from some random missile.
Tobe Castor then cried out:
"Foller right on through the openin' thar; then turn to your left,
right sharp."
As he uttered these words, the old scout dashed ahead at an astonishing
rate of speed, and entered a narrow defile or pass, that here cut
through the range of hills. As his comrades could see, he turned to the
left, as he had directed them to do.
With anxiously-beating hearts, the fugitives dashed through the pass,
and then, guided by a loud cry in the voice of their friend, turned to
the left and reached the spot where he was standing.
"'Light--quicker'n thunder! You wimmen run into them bushes thar, an'
lay close. Ed, you an' Jack stan' by me. We'll sicken the imps fer
good, this time!" hurriedly muttered the scout, as he lifted Jennie
Stevens from his horse's back; then striking the animal violently with
his hand, it dashed off at full speed along the hill's foot.
The other two women leaped to the ground, as did Wilson, who secured
the bundle of provisions, half-unconsciously. And this move was
completed none too soon, for the next moment the yelling savages sprung
into view through the pass, brandishing their weapons like mad.
"Now--gi' them your rifles, an' then fall back to the bresh yander.
Ef they foller, let 'em hev your 'volvers," cried Tobe Castor, as his
long, heavy rifle uprose to a level.
The Indians paused abruptly, uttering cries of wondering dismay. Why
this bold stand upon the part of the fugitives, and where were the
women who had so lately been with them? Could they still be fleeing
upon the horses, whose rapidly-retreating hoof-strokes could still be
distinguished?
"_Now!_" hissed Castor, and the three rifles spoke.
Two of the enemy went down without a struggle; a third reeled back with
an arm swinging helplessly at his side. But neither of them was the
renegade; he had not yet put in an appearance.
"Now drap back to the bresh, boys," and Tobe coolly retreated.
Just then Dusky Dick sprung into view, and with a wild yell, urged his
men on. As the borderers fell back, the Sioux dashed ahead, discharging
a few arrows; their firearms had all been long since emptied.
"Gi' them some more," coolly muttered Tobe, as he drew a heavy
revolver, "Colt's Army," carrying a half-ounce ball with the range and
force of a rifle.
And now quick and vicious the reports ring out from the three men
standing there at bay. Chamber after chamber was discharged with fair
effect.
It was not in Indian nature to stand this long, more especially as
they had not the means of returning the compliment. Dusky Dick was one
of the first to fall, and then, missing his voice, his men retreated
to the entrance of the gap, concealing themselves as best they could
behind the numerous bowlders that there skirted the prairie.
"Into the bresh an' load up, boys," said Castor, as he coolly leveled
his second pistol at a wounded red-skin, who was slowly crawling away
from the spot of death.
The revolver cracked, and the Indian made no further motion. Then, with
a grim smile, the old scout also entered the bushes.
A most welcome surprise here awaited the fugitives, with the exception
of Castor. The mouth of a cave was revealed behind the bushes, and into
it the women had already made their way.
This, then, was why Castor had made what had seemed, at the time, a
suicidal move, in not taking to the timber _motte_, and Wilson now
expressed his regret at having spoken so harshly upon that occasion.
"'Taint no matter, Ed. I don't blame you, for it _did_ look a lettle
queer. But it was our on'y chaince, ye see. They'd 'a' cabbidged us
thar, easy; but in here we kin hold our own ontel they starve us out.
This is whar Fred 'n' me killed the b'ar this spring--'member, don't
ye?"
"Yes, but--what's the matter now?"
Castor had turned around to peer through the bushes while speaking, and
then with a bitter curse of angry chagrin he leveled his pistol and
fired. Another curse broke from his lips, as he half-parted the bushes,
as though he would have sprung forth.
"What is it--are they coming again?" and the two men pressed forward.
"No--he's gone, the pesky imp! He was a-playin' 'possum all the time, I
do r'ailly b'lieve! Don't b'lieve he was tetched ary time!"
"Who--what do you mean?"
"Why, Dusky Dick, _in_ co'se. He's gone. I see'd him jest as he was
a-stealin' out o' sight. I sent a snap-shot at the cuss, but didn't
tech him. I spotted him in the fust rush, but he must 'a' dodged
it, an' then tumbled down to make us b'lieve he was dead," somewhat
incoherently added Castor, as he once more resumed loading his firearms.
Though greatly chagrined, the borderers completed re-charging their
weapons, without further comment; meanwhile keeping a close watch upon
the open ground around the mouth of the defile. They felt assured that
their foes were still near, although concealed from sight, and that
they would not abandon the hunt without a desperate effort to avenge
the death of their comrades, several of whose bodies still lay out in
full view, stark and ghastly.
"What do you think they'll do next, Tobe?" queried Wilson, dubiously.
"Mebbe make a rush--but I don't think it. They've hed too good a taste
o' our shooters fer thet. We must look out fer tricks, now; they'll
pro'bly try sarcumvention fust. Mebbe try to smoke us out."
"But can they _do_ it?"
"Not bad, they cain't. Jest step inside thar, an' you'll see. I ain't
so pesky green as to run in a hole thet'd be stopped up like _thet_,"
chuckled the old ranger, grimly.
Wilson stooped low down and entered the rude entrance of the cave, but
it soon enlarged sufficiently to admit of his standing erect, and gazed
curiously around him. It was dimly lighted, but sufficiently so for him
to discern the rocky sides and roof.
It was small; not twenty feet in diameter at the most, and of a rude
circular form. The roof was arched; jagged and uneven, composed mainly
of rock. From several points Wilson could detect a lighter ray than
common, and he knew that there were numerous crevices leading to the
outer world, by which the fresh air could gain entrance, although so
crooked that no use could be made of them to gain a shot at those
within. Thus it would be an utter impossibility for the cave to be
filled completely with smoke, or even sufficient to smother the inmates.
The three women were huddling together upon the rocky floor, at the
further extremity of the den, trembling with apprehension. Wilson
approached them, and tried to relieve their fears by repeating the
assurances of Tobe Castor. At this they brightened up a little, but
only temporarily.
A low whistle from Castor now drew Wilson to the entrance, where he was
cautioned to silence by a finger warningly upheld by the old scout.
Listening intently, the settler fancied he could hear the sounds of
cautious footsteps overhead.
Nothing was to be seen upon the plain beyond, save the dead savages.
All was quiet at the entrance of the defile, but still the besieged
knew that trouble was brewing. And they nerved themselves to meet it as
best they could.
"Ready, boys," muttered Tobe, drawing back a little, until beneath the
projecting shelf. "They're comin' now!"
And the next moment confirmed his assertion, for with loud yells
several dark figures sprung down from the ledge, alighting in the midst
of the bushes. Then, ere they could recover themselves, the affray
began.
The pale-faces had the advantage of a dark background, while their
foes were quite plainly revealed, and as the revolvers began to play
rapidly, wild yells of rage and death agony told how true was their aim.
And then, from the prairie beyond, came the sounds of rushing feet, and
the shrill war-whoop of the savage Sioux, telling of a simultaneous
onset, deadly and determined.