"HOW MANY DID YOU BRING DOWN?"
"I won't believe it," whispered Rifle, angrily. "Father always doubted
him. Poor old Shanter has been speared."
There was a sob in his throat as he uttered those last words, and then a
terrible silence fell upon them.
"Have you boys placed the cask and chest in the fireplace?" said the
captain out of the darkness.
There was a rush to the chimney, and the dangerous spot was blocked up,
each working hard to make up for what seemed to be a dangerous neglect
on his part.
"But suppose poor old Shanter comes back," whispered Tim, "and tries to
get in that way when he finds the door fastened."
"He wouldn't come near in the dark," said Norman with a sigh; and then
to himself, "even if he was alive."
Once more silence where the three boys were guarding the back of the
premises, and then there was a faint rustling noise, followed by the
sharp _click_, _click_ of guns being cocked.
"Who's that?" whispered Rifle.
"Only I, my boys," said Mrs Bedford in a low voice, and she kissed each
in turn, and clung to the sturdy lads for a few moments. "Your father
wishes me to go now and leave you. God bless and protect you!"
She stole away again, and the two girls came in turn to say good-night,
and then go away again to watch or sleep as they could.
"I don't care," muttered Tim, rebelliously. "I say Shanter wouldn't go
and sneak away like that."
"And so do I, my dear," said Aunt Georgie. "He was only a savage, but
he had grown as faithful as a dog, and so we told your father, but he's
as stubborn as--"
"Aunt," cried the captain, "what are you doing here?"
"To your room, please. You are hindering the boys from keeping proper
watch."
"Good-night; God bless you, my dears!" whispered Aunt Georgie, in a
husky whisper. "It's very dreadful, but I'm sure he is killed."
"Look out!" whispered Norman, a short time after. "It isn't quite so
dark, and I can see some one moving. Shall I fire?"
"No. It may be Shanter."
It was not. A few minutes later Norman had a narrow escape from death,
for a spear was thrust through the loophole, and a shot being fired in
reply, half a dozen spears came rattling at the thick shutter; and this
time the boys distinctly heard the black fellows come softly up and drag
their weapons out of the wood, just as they were alarmed by a fresh
attempt to enter by the chimney, and some one on the roof was trying to
tear up the shingles.
"Fire, boys, fire!" cried the captain; while shots rang out from the
front. The boys fired, Tim directing his two charges through the
ceiling, where he imagined enemies to be lying, the others firing
through the loophole.
There was the customary rush overhead, the sound of falls, fierce
yelling, as a pair of spears struck the house, and Norman uttered a
sharp cry.
"Any one hurt?" cried the captain, excitedly. "Marian, aunt, go and
see. I can't leave here."
"No: not hurt," shouted Norman. "Spear came through the loophole,
passed through my shirt and under my arm."
"Thrust or thrown?" cried Uncle Jack.
"Thrown," was the reply, as the hissing of wads driving out confined
air, and the thudding of ramrods were heard.
"They know Shanter isn't here," whispered Rifle, as he finished his
loading. "They've killed him, and that's what makes them so fierce."
He seemed to be right, for the defenders passed a cruel night; but
morning dawned, and the enemy had not gained a single advantage more
than before.
That morning was devoted to nailing planks all over the roof, for
fortunately they were plentiful. Others were nailed across the doors,
back and front, just leaving room for people to creep in and out; and
this being done, the captain took the glass once more to scour their
surroundings; while Sam German and the boys fetched water and wood,
fulfilling Shanter's duties, till an ejaculation from the captain made
them look up.
"The wretches! They have speared or driven off all the horses, boys; we
must get a sheep killed for provender, or we may not have another
chance. There, work and get done. You must all have some rest before
night."
Norman was just going into the house as the captain spoke these words,
and the boy turned away from the door to get round to the side, where he
could be alone. He had been about to join his mother and the girls, but
his father's words brought a despairing feeling upon him, and he dared
not meet them for fear they should read his thoughts.
"What's the matter, Man?" said a voice behind him. "Ill?"
It was Rifle who spoke, and Norman turned so ghastly a face to him that
the boy was shocked.
"Here, let me fetch father," he said.
"No, no; stop! I shall be better directly."
"But what was it?"
"The horses--the horses!"
"Oh, don't make a fuss about them. We've got to think of ourselves. We
can get some more horses, I daresay."
"Yes, but not when we want them," said Norman, angrily. "Can't you see:
they were our last chance."
Rifle stared.
"What--you mean?" he faltered.
"Of course. Father would have stayed here to the last to try to protect
the home he has made, but when things came to the worst, we should have
had to mount some morning and gallop off."
In spite of the peril they were in, Rifle laughed.
"Get out!" he cried. "You would never have got Aunt Georgie upon a
horse."
"Can't you be serious for a minute," cried Norman, angrily. "Don't you
see that our last chance has gone?"
"No," said Rifle, sturdily. "Not a bit of it. We've only been firing
duck and swan shot so far. Now, I'm going to ask father if we hadn't
better fire ball. Come on. Don't grump over a few horses. We don't
want to ride away and be hunted for days by black fellows."
"Where are you going?"
"To get in that sheep while we can. Perhaps to-morrow they'll be driven
farther away."
Norman nodded, and looked hard at his brother, for he could not help
admiring his sturdy courage.
"We're going now, father," cried Rifle.
"Well, take care. Creep along by the fence, keeping it between you and
the scrub there. Get round the sheep, and drive all before you till
they are close in here. Then pounce upon two and hold on. We'll come
and help you."
The task looked risky, for the sheep were a couple of hundred yards
away, and it was felt that the blacks were in the scrub. But they had
not shown themselves, and might be a sleep, or so far away that the bold
dash made by the boys would be unseen. But all the same the captain and
Uncle Jack covered their advance, ready with loaded guns to protect the
boys should the blacks make any sign.
The arrangement seemed to be unnecessary, for the two lads, carrying
their pieces at the trail, reached the fence, under whose cover they
went out quite a hundred yards. Then halting and carefully scanning the
nearest patch of scrub, they rose and walked fast, partly away from the
sheep, so as to be well beyond them before they turned to their left,
got behind, and drove them gently toward the house.
All this had to be done slowly and deliberately so as not to startle the
flock, but, as Rifle said, it was ticklish work.
"Yes. I expect to see black heads starting up every moment," whispered
Norman. "Now then, we're far enough. Quickly and steadily. Come
along."
The boys bore round to their left so as to be between the sheep and the
open country, and the outsiders of the flock began to move before them
without taking alarm, stopping to munch a bit of grass now and then, and
causing others to move in turn; till, as the boys walked on, they at
last had their backs to the scrub and the sheep going steadily toward
the house.
"Wasn't so difficult after all," said Rifle, quietly. "Couldn't we pen
three or four? Why is father signalling?"
"Hi! look out!" shouted Norman, for he had seen his father waving one
hand excitedly; and casting an eye back there were twenty or thirty
spear-armed savages just darting out of the scrub, and running swiftly
in pursuit.
The sight of the enemy made the boys start forward at once; the sheep
began to trot, then increased their pace as the boys ran faster, and,
dividing into two little flocks, tore past north and south of the house
and enclosures, in front of which stood the captain and Uncle Jack, with
Sam German running out to their support.
"Quick, boys!" shouted the captain. "Run on and get under cover."
At that moment Rifle saw Tim at the door of the house waving his hands,
and to the boys' horror there was the reason: another crowd of black
figures were racing up from the trees and bushes down by the river.
But they, like the other party, had a good distance to come, and the
issue was never for a moment doubtful.
One incident, though, made the captain shout angrily.
Just in those exciting moments Mrs Bedford ran out of the house, and
would have gone on in her dread and horror toward where her husband and
sons seemed to her to be in deadly peril; but Tim flung his arms about
her, and held her in spite of her struggles.
It was a matter of very few moments.
As the one part of the sheep ran by the front, and seeing the blacks
advancing, galloped off to avoid them, Norman and Rifle reached the
fences, turned, and stood ready to cover the captain and Uncle Jack,
shouting the while to Tim to get Mrs Bedford in.
At the cry from Norman, Sam German too had turned, run back past the
house door, and stood facing the blacks advancing from the other
direction.
"In with you all: run!" roared the captain, as he and his brother now
fell back rapidly, guarding the front as Mrs Bedford was dragged in
through the narrow opening; the boys followed, and, thanks to their
military training, each as he got through the partly nailed up doorway,
took a place at the side with gun levelled to protect the next comer.
It was close work.
Uncle Jack was the next in; then Sam German; and four guns were
protruding over his head as the captain dashed up with the rapid beat of
the blacks' feet very close on either side.
"Back!" he panted as he forced himself through, and shut to the door,
which resounded with the impact of spears as the bars were thrust into
their places. Then a tall black with wide eyes and gleaming teeth moved
up to thrust his spear through the loophole, but a flash came from the
narrow opening, and he dropped, rose, turned to flee, and dropped again.
Another ran up, and the captain's second barrel flashed out its
contents, with the result that the black turned, ran back a dozen yards
or so, and fell upon his face.
"Load that," said the captain hoarsely, passing back his gun, and
seizing that nearest to him--the one Sam German held. For he kept to
his place at the loophole in the thick door, and thrusting out the
barrel, drew trigger twice at a party of six who dashed now to the door.
_Click_.
A pause.
_Click_.
In each case a tiny shower of sparks followed the fall of the hammer,
and the captain uttered an angry roar like that of some stricken beast.
"Back!" he cried; and all fell away from the door, to right and left.
It was time, for three spears were thrust through the narrow slit as the
gun was withdrawn, and kept on darting about as far in every direction
as their holders could reach.
"German!" cried the captain, tossing the gun to the man, "and after all
I have said!"
Norman stepped forward to fire, but his father checked him.
"Give me your piece," he said; and taking it and cocking both locks, he
dropped a bullet in each of the barrels, felt with the ramrod that they
were well home, and then going down on one knee, took careful aim
through the darkened loophole and fired.
There was a roar and a crash; the spears were withdrawn, and the captain
rose and stepped forward, firing the second barrel from the loophole
itself.
"Another," he said quietly; and taking Tim's gun as the sound of loading
went on, he suddenly cried, "Who's at the back?"
For there was a curious noise in the direction of the kitchen, followed
by a shot, a yell, the sound of some one struggling, and they dashed
into the place to see, as well as the darkness and smoke would allow,
the embers from the hearth scattered and burning all about the kitchen,
and a black figure writhing on the floor.
As he entered, Uncle Jack was in the act of passing his gun up the wide
chimney--once more temporarily opened; there was a report, a yell, and
another figure fell right on the burning fragments left on the hearth,
rolled over, and lay motionless.
"Nearly surprised me," said Uncle Jack, coolly loading just as Rifle
fired twice from the loophole of the back door, when there was a rush
overhead and then silence.
"They've drawn back about thirty yards," said Rifle, loading as his
father trampled out the burning embers, which were filling the place
with a stifling smoke.
"Better pour water on the fire and put it quite out," said the captain
to his brother.
"No: water may be scarce soon," was the reply. "We'll tread it out."
"Coming on again!" shouted Rifle; and as there was the customary sound
of spears sticking into the woodwork, the boy fired twice, his charges
of big shot scattering and wounding far more than he ever knew.
Just then four shots were fired quickly from the front, there was a
savage yelling, and as the captain ran forward, Sam German could be
dimly-seen beginning to recharge his piece.
"She were loaded this time, master," he said fiercely, "and some on 'em
knowed it.--How many did you bring down, Master 'Temus?"
"Don't know," said the boy huskily, as he hurriedly reloaded.
"Yer needn't be ashamed to say, my lad," cried the old gardener. "We're
fighting for ladies, and agen savage wretches as won't let honest folk
alone. There, I'm ready for another now."
"Don't fire till they attack," said the captain. "Do you hear, Norman:
no waste."
"I hear, father," said the boy quietly, as he stood with his piece
resting in the opening, and his bronzed face on the watch.
"Hurray!" came from the back, and at the same moment Norman shouted:
"They're retiring, father;" and then a low sobbing came from the inner
room.