Kitabı oku: «A Boy of the Dominion: A Tale of Canadian Immigration», sayfa 18
CHAPTER XVIII
On the Defensive
A strange silence had fallen upon attackers and attacked, once the former had leaped from their sleighs and had begun to race across the snow-covered surface of the lake. Not a sound broke from them, though now and then there was a whimper from one of the dogs in the teams attached to the sleighs; and neither Hank nor Joe or Beaver Jack so much as uttered a syllable. Perhaps if they had leaped to the summit of the wall they had built, and had shouted and thrown threats at the enemy, it would have had the effect of spurring the latter on; for opposition in any shape or form is apt to stimulate men to courage and exertion, but silence depresses. The attackers seemed to lose heart rapidly; then, as one stopped doubtfully, his comrades slowly copied his example. Thereupon a burly figure turned upon them angrily.
"Forward!" he shouted almost incoherently. "Why stop here? The fools can kill you now as easily as they could if you were closer. Forward!"
"Give 'em a sight of the dummies we've rigged up," whispered Hank at once. "Jest show the tops o' their heads over the wall; I'll lie here and give 'em a shot ef they want to come closer."
He spread himself face downward on the snow and pushed his rifle through one of the apertures which Joe had left. Meanwhile our hero and the Redskin each took one of the dummies which the cunning little trapper had manufactured during his hours of watching, and slowly raised that part which was supposed to be the head over the summit of the wall. Crouching as low as possible themselves, they moved the dummies slowly to and fro; for they were some three yards from one another. At once there came a loud shout from the open, and, staring out through the aperture, Hank saw the same burly figure which he had observed before dashing to and fro haranguing his following; but move them he could not.
"What? You won't come on?" the three defenders heard him bellow. "Never did I meet such cowards! Look at the men we've come for. Fire!"
They could do that even if they would not advance, and in a twinkling the seven half-breeds had thrown themselves into all sorts of attitudes, and were busy with their weapons. There came an irregular volley, while the narrow, elongated bullet of the modern weapon, the larger, squat missile of the rifle somewhat out of date, and even the huge round leaden ball discharged by a smoothbore came hurtling about the fort. Joe heard again the zip-zip of rapidly-travelling bodies cutting their way through a maze of branches, he felt the hail of debris as it fell, while within a foot or more of his head he listened to the dull thud of a bullet striking the hard-frozen wall, and heard the queer ripping sound it made as it forced a way through and sped on across the fort to the far wall. Then there was a pause, during which there was deathly silence.
"I ain't in no hurry to fire," said Hank, in low tones, grinning up at his companions, "and I'll tell you for why. Shouts and firing and sichlike would make them critters come on; silence gives 'em the hump. In any case, they ain't bustin' with pluck, and never did I see men show less dash when attackin'. Say, Joe, ain't I heard that voice before? Seems as ef I ought to know it."
Before he could receive an answer, the burly man was again addressing his men, strutting up and down before them; for though his orders had been that they should divide and approach the island from every point of the compass, the half-breeds lacking courage had held together, as if the companionship of their fellows helped to hearten them.
"Forward!" Joe heard the command given. "You can see where they are now. They've rigged up a wall, and any one of us can hop over it in a twinkling. Now, all together!"
But his orders went unheeded. Instead, a second volley spluttered down the irregular line, while once again a variety of shots swept against the fort. Joe could see Beaver Jack's penetrating eyes twinkling. He even fancied there was a smile on those lips which were always so impassive. In any case, the Redskin pointed overhead to the dummy he held and nodded.
"Fine shooting," he murmured. "Send bullet right through the head; glad Beaver Jack not up there."
Then Hank repeated his question.
"Queer, ain't it, Joe? I'd swear I'd met that chap before. But – "
"I believe – " began our hero doubtfully, "but it can't be."
"Can't be? There's nothing that can't be 'way out here after what's happened. I tell you, man and boy I've tracked the backwoods, and never once have I been set on like this. I've heard o' ructions, in course, but always near the forts and stations, or in the settlements. But right out in the wilds like this – never! I'll eat my boots ef these here critters ain't been set on us. Seems to me that ef we could get a hold on that big chap as seems to lead 'em, and could make him talk, there's a heap he could tell us. Who is he, anyway?"
"Hurley!" exclaimed Joe.
"Eh? What? Hurley? That durned murderer! Shucks, lad, that's too tall for anything!"
"I'm dead sure. Hurley's tall; Hurley's a big man; Hurley's voice is the same as that."
"But – " interrupted Hank hoarsely, keeping his eyes all the while on the enemy, "but, grant you the voice is the same – now that you've said it, I 'low that that aer Hurley's voice – he'd be mad to follow like this. There's a string always round his neck, and he ain't likely to come close to the men who know it. It ain't reasonable. Why, we could hang the scoundrel any day we set hands on him!"
"True enough," agreed Joe, "but – wait, they're moving. That rascal is getting them to their feet; we'd better be ready for trouble."
Joe had managed to squat down close to one of the openings, and as he conversed with Hank had wriggled himself into a position which enabled him to look out. Everything outside on the moonlit snow was visible. Indeed, the white background showed up every detail, though, as it happened that the enemy had their backs to the moon, their features were indistinguishable. But features are of no account when bullets are flying, or when an attack is about to be launched. The enemy had gathered into a bunch, in spite of the shouts of their leader, and now, fortified by even closer companionship, and goaded by the burly brute who stood at their head, they poured in another volley, then, trailing their weapons, dashed toward the fort. Joe jerked his dummy on to the top of the wall and left it there; then his hand sought for his rifle, and in a trice he had the muzzle grinning at the enemy. He jerked back the bolt – for he always kept the weapon at safety – took a rapid aim at one of the charging figures, and pulled the trigger. To his amazement, the man at whom he aimed doubled up into a neat round ball and, tumbling on the snow, rolled rapidly forward. But it was not for long. He straightened himself suddenly, stood erect, and then threw his arms overhead. A penetrating shriek came from him, and a moment later he bounded into the air and fell face downward. Hank's rifle spat forth a bullet in the interval and sent a second man rocking from side to side. Long before Beaver Jack could get to one of the apertures, or Hank push in a fresh cartridge, the enemy were in wild retreat, separating widely and racing away as fast as their snowshoes would take them. As for Joe, numbed fingers do not readily operate the bolt of even a modern weapon, while, for the same reason, cartridges are hard to grip; so that he had not even reloaded. But numbed fingers were not the only reason for such delay; he was watching the man at whom he had fired. A feeling of elation possessed him for one brief second as the rascal doubled up and rolled forward, and then one of terror, of keen remorse.
"I – I killed him," he cried, a waver in his voice.
Hank looked up quickly, his lips moving.
"Eh?" he asked shortly.
"I killed him," declared Joe again, almost plaintively.
"Ah, so you did, young 'un, and a mighty fine shot it war. But you ain't going to tell me that you're sorry? In course in a way one is sorry when one wipes a critter out, but – "
"It's awful!" groaned Joe, huge depression upon him.
Hank scrambled to his feet, dragged our hero to his, and took him away from the wall where the moon's rays fell brightly upon both of them.
"See here," he cried angrily, though those who knew the little man best would have declared that his anger was artificial, "see here, young feller; am I less valuable to you than that 'ere cuss? Eh? You ain't got an answer. You don't seem to reckon that ef you wasn't to shoot, the critter would come right in and kill me or you. Ef it's like that, and you value him higher, why, I'm for moving."
Very slowly he began to clamber on to the top of the wall. He dropped his legs over to the far side, and seemed to be in the act of departing from the fort. Then Joe came to his senses; he caught the little trapper by the fringed sleeve and dragged him back. Indeed, using his strength and height, he gripped the little man and lifted him bodily. He was smiling when Hank at length broke free.
"It's over," he said; "I'm sorry."
"No harm done, lad," came the hearty answer. "No one was ever the wuss for havin' a soft heart. But this here aer war, war to the knife, and, what's more, that aer Hurley. Would a skunk same as him leave us alive ef the call was with him? Huh!"
That was the most expressive sound he could make. It betokened the utmost scorn; it showed Hank when most emphatic.
"It aer Hurley, fer sure," he declared. "But why? Aer he mad?"
"Not mad, but hoping to make something out of us or out of me," said Joe. "At least that is the idea I have, though it seems to be stupid, and there is no apparent reason for my saying so. But what does it matter what the cause of the attack may be? It's Hurley."
"Dead sartin – the skunk!" growled Hank.
"And he means business."
"He aer goin' to wipe the hull lot of us out ef he's able. But he aer come up agin a crowd that's got its dander up, so I tells him. He aer yet to larn what backwoods chaps and others kin do. Next time I makes a particular point o' puttin' my sights on him, and ef I get the chance, I'll roll him over. Let's see what they're doing."
For the next ten minutes the trio sat on the summit of the wall in the full glare of the moonlight, for there was now no object in concealment, and watched the enemy. They had retired as far as their sleighs, and it looked for a little while as if they were about to mount and drive away. But the burly figure of the rascal who led them – now admittedly Hurley, the murderer, the escaped criminal – tramped up and down near them, and though only a faint whisper of his voice could be heard every now and again, when the wind bore it in the direction of the island, it was perfectly evident that he was again using all his persuasive eloquence to induce his followers to repeat the attack. They saw him swing round more than once and point towards the fort. They watched as the enemy actually advanced again; but a shot from Hank surging between them seemed to put their courage to flight, for they went again to the sledges. Then there was a different scene.
"Threatening them," remarked Joe. "Hurley is shaking his fist at us, and pointing his gun at his own people. I begin to believe that we shall win out all right. Say, Hank, how many men can go on a sleigh as a rule?"
"Depends on the teams, lad. Some'll have only a small team, and then one man are a load; some'll take four, same as those, and move sharpish over the snow. Then agin, it depends a heap on the ground. Ef it's smooth and level, the work aer easy; ef there's a hill, folks has to dismount; and ef there's a thaw – shucks! you can't get along nohow."
"But just now, after the 'silver thaw' we've had, the snow is beautifully hard, and if those beggars went the opposite way, the way we'd go if we were making back towards the Fennicks, they'd move."
"Fly," came crisply from the hunter. "It aer a trifle downhill, and since this keen frost set in, the snow aer hard and smooth. Yes, they'd fly. But don't you reckon on that; Hurley'll work them half-breeds up to attack again. They'll wait perhaps till morning, or till it's darker. It'll be that any time now, and I ain't so certain that we ain't in for a little snow. It won't be much, anyway, for there's only a few clouds about; but the wind's got up a little, and clouds have come into sight that wasn't there when we came to the island."
"Ah!" Joe gave vent to the short expression in such a tone of voice that Hank stared at him. It was just as if he had said "Thanks awfully; you've just given me the information I wanted."
"What's that?" demanded the hunter.
"Nothing," answered Joe briskly.
"You ain't goin' to flummox me! You was thinkin' something jest then; you're up to some game and ain't let on yet."
The little fellow was gifted with wonderful intelligence, and picked up Joe's unspoken thoughts with the same intuition with which he would have ferreted out the tracks of an enemy, or guessed at their possible movements. He shook Joe angrily, staring into his face.
"What aer it?" he demanded. "This ain't the time for playing games. But I guess you've something at the back of that head of yours. Now, I've caught you out – what's the move?"
Joe told him in a very few words; for he had of a sudden come to the determination to move against the enemy.
"I'm going to do a little bit of scouting, Hank," he said. "I'm going across to their camp to see what's happening. What I want to know is this: will those dogs they have set up a racket and fly at me?"
"You bet! In course they will. Only there's snow everywhere now, and ef you're careful – and I've larned ye to be – then you'd be able to manage without rousing the critters."
"And if I took a hunk of meat with me I might manage to quiet them in any case, eh?" asked our hero.
"Might, mightn't; can't say. Jest a toss up – what then?"
"That's telling," smiled Joe. "But you and Beaver Jack be ready. If you see a sleigh coming along quick, with one man aboard it, put it down that it's me. I'm going to make a move to get possession of one of them, and once I have got it, why, we'll make tracks for the Fennicks."
The little hunter regarded his pupil in open-mouthed amazement. He stepped a pace away, held Joe at arm's length, then brought one hand with a bang down on to his shoulder; only, as this young friend of his had grown so prodigiously of late, Hank had to stand on tiptoe.
"Of all the mad ideas that ever was, this is it!" he cried. "But it aer fine, and I'll say more, it aer the only way to pull us out of this business, mad though it does appear. Ef you hadn't wanted to go, I'd have gone. But you suggested, and so you shall make the attempt. And ef they spot you, jest run for your life out on to the lake. Beaver Jack and me'll follow you across and build up a bit of a breastwork close by the shore. That'll give us a sorter place to hold 'em from, and there you could join us. If you succeed, why, off we goes, in course; and, now that I thinks of it more, ef you ain't too proud, I'd like to come with you. Why? I'll tell you. The dogs are bound to be a bother. You ain't never handled the critters, while I have, many a time, and dogs, like hosses, soon gets to know when they're dealing with a green 'un. How's that?"
"Agreed!" cried Joe, delighted to have a companion. "Ask Jack what he thinks of the affair."
Half an hour later there was quite a stir amongst the garrison of the island, for the enemy had disappeared, having returned downheartened to their own encampment. Beaver Jack and Joe were bearing along between them the light sleigh upon which the Redskin's pelts were stacked, and on which their own traps would find a place. They lifted it to the top of the wall they had built and, leaping to the outside, lowered it carefully. Hank then handed down rifles and ammunition, the former of which they slung over their shoulders.
"If the wust comes to the wust, we makes back here agin," he said. "It aer been a proper tight little island; now we kin move. Them clouds has smothered the moon nicely, and it aer snowing enough to hide a man at fifty yards. Guess we'll cross, throw up a wall of snow, making a sorter nest in case we want it, and then get away on to the camp them half-breeds is occupying."
He took the end of the tow-rope, while Beaver Jack went immediately behind him. Joe fell in in rear, and in that order they strode on across the snow towards the shore which harboured the enemy. They halted once to listen, for a dog had yelped. But as the sound was not repeated, they pressed on again, and were soon at the point where ice and solid earth met beneath the all-pervading mantle of snow.
"This'll do," said Hank shortly. "Slip off yer snowshoes and rake the snow up from a central point; that'll leave a deep little hole to shelter us. See here, Beaver Jack, you keep a bright eye open for us. Ef we comes bowling along on a sleigh, get a hold of that sleigh rope of yours, leap aboard us, and make fast. Ef we comes runnin' out, jest see that you shoot at them critters who'll be follerin' and not at us."
That was his farewell to the Redskin. He and Joe helped to erect the wall of snow, and then, leaving Beaver Jack to complete the task, strode on again towards the camp which they had vacated for the benefit of the enemy. Under one arm the little hunter carried a ball of snow, which seemed somewhat curious and unnecessary, especially considering the fact that the ground was thickly covered with the same material. But within the snow there was something of greater value.
"It's that chunk o' meat," Hank had explained, when he first produced his burden. "I set it over the fire till it was wellnigh cooked and the frost driven out of it altogether. Then I cut it into pieces, packed them close in a piece of skin from one o' the beasts we shot, and wrapped the whole again in snow, which'll help to keep the heat in and the cold out. Sounds rummy, don't it? But it'll work handsome."
"Now, young chap," he whispered, when he and our hero had parted from the Redskin and were within three hundred yards of the enemy, "we've got to decide how we'll work this business. How's it to be?"
"You take the dogs," said Joe at once. "I'll tackle Hurley."
"But – but you ain't going to kick up a rumpus with him, surely!" exclaimed Hank, sinking his voice till it was almost inaudible, and almost hissing the words. "It aer the sleigh we want, two of 'em ef we could manage it, though that ain't possible. Ef we get away with one, only four of the critters can follow, and what's four after so many? You ain't after Hurley?"
He was answered by a vigorous shake of the head. "No, I don't want any struggle; I wouldn't shoot the fellow if I had the opportunity."
"Wouldn't ye? Then I would, me lad. It aer human nature to look to number one fust. When a man murders, and aer wanted by the hangman, when he begins trying his best to murder others, then's the time fer him to go under. Hurley has my bullet fust time I kin look straight along the barrel. But what aer you after?"
"I don't know. I want to see what he's doing. I want to find out if he has that envelope he stole from me so many months ago now."
Hank's head shot up quickly. He was a man with such a vast experience of life, and had encountered so many strange happenings, that he was not inclined to think a thing impossible till he had proved it to be so. There was that envelope, to be sure. Joe had often spoken about it. He had told Hank the whole story, how there was something within the envelope which he could have read had he chosen, though against his dead father's wishes. The contents, in fact, were for perusal only when he had made good, when he had fought his own battles. And Hank had been impressed by the recital.
"It aer a queer story," he had said in his quiet little way, "and I 'low as the temptation to open that envelope must have been great. But your dad war right. Supposing the letter told you of dollars to be had for the axing, what would have happened? You'd have stayed back there in England. You'd have lived on the best of the land and become fat and lousy. You wouldn't have had half the fun out of life, for the struggle to make good aer fun to everyone who's got spirit and pride. 'Sides, there's something wuss. This here Hank wouldn't have made your acquaintance.
"Supposing that letter had had something to do with monetary affairs?" The little hunter came to a halt promptly and stared before him. He would have whistled but for the proximity of the enemy. Instead, he turned on Joe, and with the snowflakes falling about them gripped him firmly by the sleeve. "By Jingo," he whispered, "I believe you've got it! That there Hurley stole the letter. When he was captured he hid it up, for he'd had time to take a look at it. Perhaps he forgot to hide the dollar notes. But in any case, he put the letter away in some safe place, perhaps in the shack close to that lake where he went into hiding. He'd larned that there was gain to be made by it, ef only he could get clear of the law. Wall, he slipped off. Those police let him out of their fingers. He went back for the letter, and then, because you've something to do with it, as of course is sartin, he sets out to find and wipe you out. Huh! It's all in a nutshell. You ain't wanted, young chap. Soon as you're wiped out, Hurley comes in for something that's waiting."
Perhaps it was native sagacity again, a strange mixture of intuition and intelligence, which helped the little hunter. Perhaps also, taking every point into consideration, it was the most reasonable solution to come to. Be that as it may, Hank at one effort had fathomed the mystery of this unprovoked attack, and at the same time had discovered that Joe was most probably rather an important person.
"But you ain't got the dollars yet, not by a long way," he cautioned. "We ain't got out of this muss, and Hurley'll do his best to hold us. Now, lad, you aer after that envelope. Wall, see here. Ef it's to be had easy, take it; ef not, leave the thing till another time. For ef we clear out of this with our scalps we'll ride for the nearest fort garrisoned by the North-west Police, or some station where there's Ontario Police quartered. We'll inform about Hurley, and we'll lead a party along till the rascal's taken. Life, I guess, aer more valuable than a letter; so bear that in mind, and hold off ef there's danger."
With their plans thus arranged, the two crept forward, and were soon within some fifty yards of the camp. Through the falling snowflakes they could see the large lean-to in which the half-breeds were sleeping, for the band of desperadoes had thrown themselves down immediately on returning. The fire at the entrance burned low, and the light it gave out was feeble. But more issued from a second, blazing some yards to the left, and illuminating the interior of the other lean-to.
"The men!" whispered Hank, pointing to the first. "That 'ere critter yonder! It aer up to us now to locate the dogs. H-hish! Here's one o' them coming."
Joe saw him tear his bundle asunder and extract a piece of flesh. At the same moment he became aware of the fact that a huge beast was slowly crawling toward them.
"Was it actually a dog? No. Yes; that was certain. Then would it suddenly give tongue and fling itself upon them?"
"H-h-hish!" said Hank, making a curious little clicking sound with his tongue. "He's smelt the meat; ef only he'll be quiet, we'll soon have the others."
A low, almost inaudible growl came from the brute advancing on them. Even in that light Joe could see that its coat was bristling. It was slinking toward them now on half-bent legs, looking as if it would make a sudden spring when within easy reach of them. The position of the two might be described, in fact, as more than a trifle embarrassing.
