A Tight Corner
"Jack, Jack. Aer yer there? aer yer there?"
The words came from Steve in an eager whisper, and, though repeated time
and again, received no answer. Instead, the disabled hunter heard only
the dull sound of blows, the hiss of sharply-indrawn breaths, and the
snap of breaking twigs. He ground his teeth in his vexation and anxiety,
but as he could not rise to his feet and walk, for his legs still
refused to carry him, the gallant little fellow rolled on to his side
and dragged himself towards the combatants. Very soon his eager fingers
fell upon one of them.
"Injun!" he exclaimed, running his hand down the man's back and
discovering the shoulders bare. "Then it are time I lent a hand."
Swiftly his fingers sought for his own hunting-knife, for Steve realized
that the Indian was kneeling upon Jack, who lay beneath him, and argued
from that fact that our hero was getting the worst of the conflict.
Dragging his weapon from its sheath, he raised himself on one elbow, and
made ready to strike. And to make sure that he had made no error, and
that his blade was thrust in the right direction, he again groped for
the shoulders he had felt a moment before. There they were, lean and
muscular, and at once up went the knife, while Steve braced himself for
the stroke. But he never delivered it; for of a sudden the straining
muscles beneath his finger tips relaxed, the heaving, sinuous movements
of the Indian's shoulders ceased, while the man seemed to become in one
instant limp and helpless. He subsided on to his opponent, and then
rolled heavily to the ground. The silence which followed was broken by
the laboured breathing of one man only.
"Jack, Jack," whispered Steve again, his note more eager and anxious
than before.
"Here," came the answer. "Here, safe and sound."
"Yer killed him?"
"Yes," gasped Jack.
"Gee! How?"
Jack sat beside his comrade for a minute and more before he ventured
upon an answer. All the while he breathed deeply, in jerky spasms, as a
man does who has been sorely tried, and who has striven to the last
point of endurance. His whole frame was trembling with the intensity of
the struggle, while his fingers were crooked and rigid with the strain
of prolonged gripping. Then, getting his breath again, and the use of
his fingers by gentle movements, he crept closer to Steve and whispered
his answer.
"I had luck," he said. "He took me by surprise at first, and I wonder he
didn't send his knife through me. But he missed his stroke, and before
he could make another I had a grip of his wrist. At the same time my
other hand got a hold on to his neck."
"Gee!" The scout gave vent to a low exclamation. "Yes?" he asked.
"I knew that was my only chance, so I hung on like a bull dog. He's
dead, the life choked out of him."
"Sure? Sartin' he ain't foxin'. There never was any ter play possum like
an Injun. Ye're dead sure he's done?"
Jack moved from the side of the hunter for one moment, and ran his hand
over his late antagonist. There was not a doubt but that he was dead.
The chest was motionless, and not a breath left the lips.
"He'll never fight again," he said sternly, creeping back to Steve. "Do
you think they'll come to find him?"
There was a low growl from the hunter. "Think!" he whispered scornfully.
"In course they will. But his absence'll make 'em mighty careful. I've
told yer an Injun don't like to get beat. His game's always to kill, and
go scot free himself. But they'll search this here group of trees till
they find him, and then----"
He ended suddenly, and propped himself up to listen; for there was no
need to explain what would happen. Even to Jack's inexperienced mind the
ending was only too obvious. The horses had been found, and now
themselves. Of that the Indians would have not the smallest doubt once
their comrade failed to return, and failed also to answer their signals.
"Huh! There they go barkin' As ef any fool couldn't tell as it warn't a
fox. That'll tell 'em right enough that something's happened," whispered
Steve, "It ain't o' no use fer me to send 'em back the call, 'cos I can
tell yer no white man can manage it proper. Them Injuns get practising
when they're no higher than a dozen dollars piled one on t'other, and
there ain't a one as tries it later on as kin git quite at the right
sound. H-h-hish! Ain't that someone movin'?"
Intense silence fell upon them again, while Jack raised himself on his
knees, so as to prepare for a second struggle. Yes, somewhere directly
in front of him, and perhaps four yards away, a twig had stirred, while
the gentle rustle of a leaf had reached him. He stooped, pressed Steve's
hand to show him that he was ready, and then silently gripped a rifle
which lay beside the hunter. To raise himself to his feet was the work
of half a minute, for deathly silence was essential. But once upon them,
he stood in a tense attitude, bending slightly, both hands gripping the
barrel of his weapon, while the stock was raised above his head.
Click! The tip of a brier, or of one of the smaller branches of a bush,
swished as it was released by some unseen hand. In that intense silence
it sounded to our hero almost as loud as the report of a pistol. And it
told him as clearly as possible that this new antagonist stealing up
towards him was directly in front, and already somewhat nearer. He held
his breath, and waited, his eyes staring into the darkness. Click! The
sound was repeated.
And then, for one brief second, an uncanny sensation came over him. For
something touched his boot, and that something ran nimbly up to his
knees. Was it a forest mouse, scared by the intruder creeping towards
Jack with murderous intent? Or was it the man himself?
Quick as a flash Jack decided the matter. A few weeks before he would
have waited a little longer to make sure. But he had already had more
than one lesson teaching him that indecision is often fatal. Besides,
he knew now what he had never guessed before. He had already, this very
evening, had an object lesson of the craft and stealth of the Indian,
and realized that where a silent and unexpected attack was necessary
their skill was phenomenal. Knowing that, Jack struck with all his
strength. He struck blindly at the darkness, till the heavy butt of his
rifle was stayed in its course by some unseen obstacle. Then he swung it
up again, and sent it crashing through the air till once more its course
was arrested.
"Gee! That are a blow. H-h-hist!"
It was Steve's voice, low and cautious, and with just the faintest trace
of exultation in the note. For Steve was no craven, and even if he were
powerless to defend himself, he could yet appreciate that power in
others. And the hunter had been in so many engagements and had come
successfully out of them, that now that the tables seemed turning a
little in their favour, and the outlook did not appear quite so bad as
it had done a little while ago, he could not help a feeling of
exultation.
"Ef he ain't the boy, this here Carrots!" he murmured to himself, as he
peered up in the direction in which he knew Jack stood. "Ef he ain't
showing an old hand how these here things should be done. He jest
cotched that feller an almighty whack on the head, and guess that's an
end of him. Jack," he said a little louder.
"Well," came back the laconic answer.
"How'd yer come out of that 'ere business? Yer ketched him a whop? Eh?"
"Dead," said Jack curtly. "I felt his fingers on my leg. He didn't know
exactly where I was till then. I struck out with the rifle, and----"
"Gee! Ef you ain't fine! But hist a moment. Them varmint'll be
somewhares about."
It seemed indeed more than likely that the Indians who had entered the
trees, and of whom three still remained, would endeavour to follow their
comrades. Although Jack's rifle butt had slain the second man in
absolute silence, his struggle with the first had produced sufficient
noise to attract attention, and without a doubt the enemy were fully
aware of the fact that the men they sought were amongst the trees. No
doubt they were still uncertain of their exact position. But that was a
difficulty which these crafty men would soon overcome.
"They'll send more of the young chaps in," whispered Steve, "and this
time they'll hunt in couples. Jack, lad, ye've got ter do a bit more
fightin' ef yer want ter keep yer haar."
"You think they will soon find us, now they know we are in the wood?"
asked our hero suddenly, kneeling close to his comrade.
"Think!" At any other time Jack would have roared with laughing, for the
little hunter's tones were full of indignation and contempt. "It don't
want no thinkin'. A baby could tell yer that them critters would find
us, and quick, too. That ain't what's worryin'. It's the fact that
they'll come along in a bunch, and sence there's you alone to fight,
why, in course, it don't leave us a dog's chance."
"And supposing they don't come along?" asked our hero. "Supposing they
decide to leave the matter for a while."
"'Tain't likely. But ef they do, the end's jest the same. They'll set a
close watch right round the place, and not one of them varmint'll close
an eyelid till the light comes. Droppin' asleep when he's watchin' is a
thing an Injun can't do. It's clean right up agin his nature."
"Then, that being the case, we'll not wait here either for them to
attack us in a bunch or for them to find us in the morning."
Jack spoke quietly, and cautiously raised himself on to his feet. "I'm
going to carry you to the edge of the trees, Steve," he whispered. "I
tell you, if they're bound to find us in any case, so long as we stay
where we are, why, I ain't going to stay to be butchered, and I ain't
going to leave you, either. Just take a grip round my neck, and hold
tight if we meet anything. That'll leave me with my hands free. Now."
Steve gaped at the words, and more at the tone of them than anything.
Little by little as the moments had passed he had seen something in our
hero which he had never detected before. He was wont to look upon Jack
as a lad who, by accident perhaps, had been enabled to come between a
band of train robbers and their victims. He did not deny that he had
shown pluck. But that this young fellow was a fire eater, that he could
on occasion become a stern, commanding man, and could coolly face a
difficulty such as this one, had never occurred to him. More than that,
Steve, with all his age and experience, had always been the one to lead
and to guide, to give hints as to the manner of doing this, and timely
warnings and advice as to the methods to be employed in some other
sudden difficulty. Now, suddenly to find the position reversed, to know
that Jack was giving orders, and was about to act as seemed best to
himself, wholly regardless of his own inexperience, why, it took Steve's
breath away.
"Gee! Ef he don't beat everything!" he murmured. "He jest treats me as
ef I war a kid, and--and----"
"Hold fast, and don't worry if I have to drop you suddenly. I'll stand
by you whatever happens. There! Up you come."
It was all done without hesitation, and in absolute silence. No one
could have admonished Jack for lack of caution. His orders were
whispered into Steve's ear, and every movement was slow and gradual. He
stood, at length, to his full height, Steve gripping him round the neck,
while with one arm he held the scout's useless legs suspended. The other
hand gripped the haft of his formidable hunting-knife. Then he began a
slow and stealthy progress towards the edge of the wood.
"Take yer time, take yer time," whispered Steve. "It would be fatal ter
make so much as a sound."
Advancing inches only at a time, placing each foot cautiously in front
of the other, and carefully avoiding branches which grew in the way, our
hero at length reached the very edge of the trees. Once there he set
down his burden for a few minutes, while he lay at full length, and
placing his ear to the ground listened for sounds made by the enemy.
"Hist! Did yer hear that?" asked Steve, when some minutes had passed.
"Them chaps is startin' in at the far side of the wood, and I should
reckon as thar's a heap of 'em. Do yer hear 'em?"
Jack fancied he had heard some sounds, but was not at all certain. But
to Steve there was not the smallest doubt.
"They're over yonder," he whispered, a note of conviction in his voice,
"and I tell yer there's a good twenty of 'em, else there wouldn't be so
much noise. It stands to reason that an Injun kin creep through a wood
same as this silenter than a snake. But ef he's got a crowd of comrades
with him, some of 'em's bound to be less careful. Yer kin take it from
me, them critters has got it fixed in their minds that we're trying to
make out over in that direction."
"Then all the better. Let 'em continue to think that," whispered Jack
hoarsely. "We ain't going in that direction, but just clear out here in
front of us, and if we meet one of their men, well----"
He came to an abrupt halt, leaving Steve to guess his meaning. But if
ever determination were conveyed by the tones of a whisper, why, Jack's
showed without a shadow of doubt that he was resolute. Indeed, those two
death struggles in the wood had hardened him. A little while ago his
thoughts had been entirely engaged with the task of escaping the enemy
and rescuing his comrade. Now, however, added to that endeavour was a
stubborn resolution to punish these men who had wantonly attacked him.
He argued that if he with a number of friends had come upon a couple of
harmless Indians, he would have shown them kindness, and would not have
instantly sought their lives. Why, therefore, should these natives of
the plain so diligently seek to kill him and Steve? What right had they
to interfere with them? As they had dared to do so, why, they must be
made to pay the penalty. In one brief hour, in fact, Jack, who hitherto
had had no great dislike of the Indians, for the simple reason that he
had never come across them, was possessed of an intense hatred for them,
a burning animosity, a desire to come to hand grips with them, and a
fierce determination to fight any who crossed his path. Nor in that was
he different to the old hunters of the plains, men like Steve and Tom.
"I can see what they mean now," he thought, as he and Steve lay on the
outskirts of the wood. "They've told me time and again how the people
crossing over to California, to the diggin's, have scoffed at all fear
of Indians, have imagined that they would become friendly with them
without meeting with unusual difficulties. But those who have lived to
reach the diggings have done so with a different understanding of the
Indian. They know him by then to be a fierce and relentless enemy, a man
who will butcher for the sake of butchering, and who will spare neither
a sick white man nor a woman nor a child."
"Jest listen to 'em!" suddenly whispered Steve, interrupting Jack's
thoughts. "Ef I ain't right I'll eat me boots. Them critters think we're
makin' for the far side. They heard the ruction you had with them two
varmint, and though they guess that something bad's happened to 'em,
they aer wondering whether the noises ain't caused by us. Yer see, it's
right up agin Injun nature and cunnin' ter make a sound. So, ef them
noises wasn't caused by fightin', they was caused by us. Reckon a mouse
couldn't get through on the far side."
"But a man can on this. Get a grip of my neck again," commanded Jack.
"Now, I'm going to strike clear away into the open. If you hear or see
anything, jest give my neck a squeeze. That'll stop me, and give me a
warning."
It was lucky for our hero that he had such a crafty fellow as the little
hunter with him, even if he happened to be helpless. But for Steve Jack
would have blundered into one of the Indian sentries. As it was, Steve
arrested him with a gentle squeeze of his arms within five minutes of
their setting out.
"S-s-sh!" he whispered. "I seed something direct ahead, standin' up agin
the white fringe of the clouds. It's an Injun, sure. He'll be shoutin'
in a jiffy."
"Then we will turn and make along till we can pass him," suggested Jack.
"Yer might," came the cautious answer. "But I think as you'd be sartin
to run up agin another of the varmint. Twenty yards is as much space as
they'd dare allow between each man on a night same as this, and ef yer
tried to pass between them it means you'd be within ten yards or so.
That ain't enough. They'd be sartin ter spot yer. Let's lie down a
spell. There ain't no sayin' what the critters aer doin'."
Jack took his advice promptly, for there was not a doubt but that the
utmost caution was necessary. Steve might or might not have seen one of
the Indian sentries, but it would be madness to attempt a forward
movement till they were certain that the road was clear. So for a long
quarter of an hour the two lay stretched side by side, the cunning
little hunter with his ear glued to the ground, while Jack peered into
the darkness ahead. Then, suddenly, a commotion was heard from the
direction of the wood. A shrill call awoke the echoes, while instantly
following it came that well-known signal, crisp and clearly, now from
the centre of the wood, later from one end, and immediately afterwards
from the far side.
"Them critters has lit upon the men as attacked you," said Steve
hoarsely. "Reckon when the hull lot gets to know that two of their pals
is dead there'll be a bit of a bother. It'll make 'em downright mad. But
they ain't goin' ter take us, Jack. Somehow, after all that's happened,
I feel as ef we was bound to come through, ef only to give me a chance
of talkin' ter the boys. But it ain't goin' ter be done easy. Ye've got
ter--hist!--That 'ere chap's movin'."
Keen and ever watchful, Steve detected a movement in front instantly,
and in a moment he had gripped Jack by the arm, and was directing his
attention in that direction.
"He's riding this way. See him? Gee! ef he ain't comin' right on top of
us."
"Lie still. Leave him to me," said Jack, peering ahead of him. "Do you
think he'll see us easy as we lie here?"
"Might--mightn't," came the curt answer. "Jest depends. Ef he's
listenin' to them critters over thar in the wood, why, maybe his eyes'll
not happen to spot us. But, as a gineral rule, there ain't no sayin'
what an Injun won't see. A needle ain't much too small for the varmint.
Ef he comes close, what'll you do?"
"S-s-sh! He's coming quick. Lie still."
Pressing the hunter down with one hand, Jack lay himself full length,
his body squeezed as close to the ground as possible, and in that
position he had no difficulty in detecting a figure riding towards him.
The man was urging his horse on, for there came the dull sound of a
moccasined heel applied to the side of the animal. And then followed the
muffled thud of the footfalls. Yes, the Indian was riding in a line
which would take him almost over the bodies of those he sought, and in
that event, even if he himself failed to detect the two figures prone in
the grass, the animal would not miss them. Jack braced himself on hands
and knees, his feet drawn up beneath him as a panther gathers its limbs
preparatory to a spring, and there, hardly daring to breathe, he waited,
while the footfalls came nearer. A moment or two later the animal was
almost over him. Then it suddenly drew to one side, shying so
unexpectedly that the rider was almost thrown. But, gripping the saddle
with his knees, the Indian retained his seat, and at the same moment
pulled at his reins, for he as yet had seen nothing. It was an
opportunity not to be missed, and promptly Jack launched himself at the
man. With one bound he was beside him, then, quick as lightning, he
gripped him by arm and leg, and, tearing him from his seat, threw him
heavily to the ground.