THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
I do not know what delayed the attack of the savages, unless they were
waiting for some signal which never came. I passed from loophole to
loophole, thus assuring myself not only that they still remained, but
that the cabin was completely surrounded, although the manner in which
the warriors had been distributed left the great mass of them opposite
the front. The others evidently composed a mere guard to prevent
escape. No movement I could observe indicated an immediate assault;
they rather appeared to be awaiting something.
Those I saw were all dismounted, and had advanced toward the cabin as
closely as possible without coming within the range of guns. They had
also sheltered themselves as far as possible behind clumps of brush, or
ridges of rock, so that I found it difficult to estimate their number.
Only occasionally would a venturesome warrior appear for a moment in
the open, as he glided stealthily from the protection of one covert to
another. No doubt some were brought within range of our rifles, as
these efforts were usually made to more advanced positions, but I
forbade firing, in the vague hope that, not hearing from Kirby, the
chiefs might become discouraged and draw off without risking an open
attack.
This was more a desperate hope, rather than any real faith I possessed.
Beyond doubt the Indian chief knew, or thought he knew, our exact
strength before he consented to use his warriors in this assault. If
the band had trailed us to this spot, it had been done through the
influence of Kirby, and he had, beyond question, informed them as to
whom we were, and the conditions under which we had fled from Yellow
Banks. The only addition to our party since then was the rescued boy.
They would have little fear of serious loss in an attack upon two men,
and two women, unarmed, except possibly with a pistol or two, even
though barricaded behind the log walls of a cabin. And, with one of
their number within, any attempt at defense would be but a farce. This
same gang had already sacked the cabin, taking with them, as they
believed, every weapon it contained. In their haste they had
overlooked the cellar below. They had no thought of its existence, nor
that we awaited them rifles in hand and with an amply supply of powder
and lead. Whatever might be the final result, a surprise of no
pleasant nature was awaiting their advance.
Convinced, as I had become, that Black Hawk was actually with the
party, although I was unable to obtain any glimpse of him, I felt there
was small chance of his departure, without making at least one effort
to capture the cabin. That was his nature, his reputation--that of a
bulldog to hang on, a tiger to strike. More even, this band of raiders
must be far south of the main body of the Hawk's followers, and hence
in danger themselves. They would never remain here long, facing the
possibility of discovery, of having their retreat cut off. If they
attacked, the attempt would not be long delayed.
Still there was nothing left to do but wait. We were already as
completely prepared as possible with our resources. The main assault
would undoubtedly be delivered from the front, directed against the
door, the only point where they could hope to break in. Here Tim and
myself held our positions, as ready as we could be for any emergency,
and watchful of the slightest movement without. Tim had even brought
up the half-keg of coarse powder from the cellar, and rolled it into
one corner out of the way. His only explanation was, a grim reply to
my question, that "it mought be mighty handy ter hav' round afore the
fracus wus done." We had stationed Asa on the bench, as a protection
to any attack from the rear, although our only real fear of danger from
that direction lay in an attempt to fire the cabin during the
engagement in front. I had instructed the boy to stay there whatever
happened, as he could be of no help anywhere else, and to shoot, and
keep shooting at anything he saw. Not overly-bright, and half-dead
with fear as he was, I had no doubt but what he would prove dangerous
enough once the action started; and, if he should fail, Eloise,
crouching just behind him in the corner, could be trusted to hold him
to his duty. There was no fear in her, no shrinking, no evidence of
cowardice. Not once did I feel the need of giving her word of
encouragement--even as I glanced toward her it was to perceive the
gleam of a pistol gripped in her hand. She was of the old French
fighting stock, which never fails.
My eyes softened as I gazed at her, her head held proudly erect, every
nerve alert, her eyes steadfast and clear. Against the log wall a few
yards away, Kirby strained at his blanket bonds, and had at last
succeeded in lifting himself up far enough so as to stare about the
room. There was none of the ordinary calm of the gambler about the
fellow now--all the pitiless hate, and love of revenge which belonged
to his wild Indian blood blazed in his eyes. He glared at me in
sudden, impotent rage.
"You think you've got me, do you?" he cried, scowling across; then an
ugly grin distorted his thin lips. "Not yet you haven't, you soldier
dog. I've got some cards left to play in this game, you young fool.
What did you butt in for anyway? This was none of your affair. Damn
you, Knox, do you know who she is? I mean that white-faced chit over
there--do you know who she is? You think you are going to get her away
from me? Well, you are not--she's my wife; do you hear?--my wife!
I've got the papers, damn you! She's mine!--mine; and I am going to
have her long after you're dead--yes, and the whole damn Beaucaire
property with her. By God! you talk about fighting--why there are
fifty Indians out there. Wait till they find out what has happened to
me. Oh, I'll watch you die at the stake, you sneaking white cur, and
spit in your face!"
"Kirby," I said sternly, but quietly, stepping directly across toward
him, "I've heard what you said, and that is enough. You are a
prisoner, and helpless, but I am going to tell you now to hold your
tongue. Otherwise you will never see me at the stake, because I shall
blow your brains out where you lie. One more word, and I am going to
rid this world of its lowest specimen of a human being."
"You dare not do--"
"And why not? You promise me death either way; what have I to lose
then by sending you first? It will rid the girl of you, and that means
something to me--and her. Just try me, and see."
He must have read the grim meaning in my face, for he fell back against
the log, muttering incoherently, his dark eyes wells of hate, his face
a picture of malignancy, but utterly helpless--the lurking coward in
him, unable to face my threat. I left him and stooped above her.
"We shall be busy presently; the delay cannot be much longer. I am
afraid that fellow may succeed somehow in doing us harm. He is crazed
enough to attempt anything. May I trust you to guard him?"
Her eyes, absolutely fearless and direct, looked straight up into mine.
"Yes, he will make no movement I shall not see. Tell me; do you
believe there is hope?"
"God knows. We shall do our best. If the worst comes--what?"
"Do not fear for me; do not let any memory of me turn you aside from
your work," she said quietly. "I know what you mean and pledge you I
shall never fall into his hands. It--it cannot be wrong, I am sure,
and--and I must tell you that. I--I could not, Steven, for--for I love
you."
My eager hands were upon hers, my eyes greedily reading the message
revealed so frankly in the depths of her own. She only was in my
thoughts; we were there alone--alone.
"They're a comin', Cap," yelled Kennedy and his rifle cracked. "By
God! they're here!"
With one swift spring I was back at my deserted post and firing. Never
before had I been in an Indian battle, but they had told me at
Armstrong that the Sacs were fighting men. I knew it now. This was to
be no play at war, but a grim, relentless struggle. They came en
masse, rushing recklessly forward across the open space, pressing upon
each other in headlong desire to be first, yelling like fiends, guns
brandished in air, or spitting fire, animated by but one purpose--the
battering of a way into that cabin. I know not who led them--all I saw
was a mass of half-naked bodies bounding toward me, long hair
streaming, copper faces aglow, weapons glittering in the light. Yes, I
saw more--the meaning of that fierce rush; the instrument of
destruction they brought with them. It was there in the center of the
maelstrom of leaping figures, protected by the grouped bodies, half
hidden by gesticulating red arms--a huge log, borne irresistibly
forward on the shoulders of twenty warriors, gripped by other hands,
and hurled toward us as though swept on by a human sea. Again and
again I fired blindly into the yelping mob; I heard the crack of Tim's
rifle echoing mine, and the chug of lead from without striking the
solid logs. Bullets ploughed crashing through the door panels and
Elsie's shrill screams of fright rang out above the unearthly din. A
slug tore through my loophole, drawing blood from my shoulder in its
passage, and imbedded itself in the opposite wall. In front of me
savages fell, staggering, screams of anger and agony mingling as the
astonished assailants realized the fight before them. An instant we
held them, startled, and demoralized. The warriors bearing the log
stumbled over a dead body and went down, the great timber crushing out
another life as it fell. Again we fired, this time straight into their
faces--but there was no stopping them. A red blanket flashed back
beyond the big tree; a guttural voice shouted, its hoarse note rising
above the hellish uproar, and those demons were on their feet again,
filled with new frenzy. It was a minute--no more. With a blow that
shook the cabin, propelled by twenty strong arms, the great tree butt
struck, splintering the oak wood as though it were so much pine, and
driving a jagged hole clear through one panel. Kennedy was there,
blazing away directly into the assailants eyes, and I joined him.
Again they struck, and again, the jagged end of their battering ram
protruded through the shattered wood. We killed, but they were too
many. Once more the great butt came crashing forward, this time caving
in the entire door, bursting it back upon its hinges. In through the
opening the red mob hurled itself, reckless of death or wounds, mad
with the thirst for victory; a jam of naked beasts, crazed by the smell
of blood--a wave of slaughter, crested with brandished guns and gleam
of tomahawk.
There is nothing to remember--nothing but blows, curses, yells, the
crunch of steel on flesh, the horror of cruel eyes glowering into
yours, the clutching of fingers at your throat, the spit of fire
singeing you, the strain of combat hand to hand--the knowledge that it
is all over, except to die. I had no sense of fear; no thought but to
kill and be killed. I felt within me strength--desperate, insane
strength. The rifle butt splintered in my hands, but the bent and
shapeless barrel rose and fell like a flail. I saw it crush against
skulls; I jabbed it straight into red faces; I brought it down with all
my force on clutching arms. For an instant Tim was beside me. He had
lost his gun and was fighting with a knife. It was only a glimpse I
had of him through red mist--the next instant he was gone. A huge
fellow faced me, a Winnebago I knew, from his shaven head. I struck
him once, laying open his cheek to the bone; then he broke through and
gripped me.
The rest is what--a dream; a delirium of fever? I know not; it comes
to me in flashes of mad memory. I was struck again and again, stabbed,
and flung to the floor. Moccasined feet trod on me, and some fiend
gripped my hair, bending my head back across a dead body, until I felt
the neck crack. Above me were naked legs and arms, a pandemonium of
dancing figures, a horrible chorus of maddened yells. I caught a
glimpse of Asa Hall flung high into the air, shot dead in mid-flight,
the whirling body dropping into the ruck below. I saw the savage,
whose fingers were twined in my hair, lift a gleaming tomahawk and
circle it about his head; I stared into the hate of his eyes, and as it
swept down--there was a glare of red and yellow flame between us, the
thunder of an explosion; the roof above seemed to burst asunder and
fall in--and darkness, death.