Kitabı oku: «Through Apache Land», sayfa 12

CHAPTER XXXIII.
CLOSING IN

The party pushed on until the greater portion of the forenoon was passed, when Ned was transferred to the back of Tom's horse. The lad had noticed that the hunters were acting in a strange manner, as though they were ill at ease, and were apprehensive that peril of some kind was approaching.

Dick Morris rode fully a hundred yards in advance of his comrade, and the motion of his head showed that there was no part of the horizon that was not under his surveillance. Tom was equally busy while riding in the rear. Neither of the hunters addressed a word to the other, but the boy detected a sort of telegraphy occasionally passing between them. They were working by a preconcerted arrangement, like corresponding parts of some machine, understanding each other so well that there was no need for explanation. The boy also used his to the best advantage possible, often turning his head and scanning the prairie and horizon, but not a single time did he discern anything that looked like Indians. Had he been alone, he would have journeyed serenely forward, certain that no danger of any kind threatened.

At noon, a brief halt was made as they struck the margin of a small stream, the water of which was rather warm and muddy, the buffaloes having probably disturbed it at some point above. The horses quaffed their fill, and upon the suggestion of Tom, Ned did the same. There was a good deal of significance when he uttered the words.

"It may be a good while before you get a chance at another."

It did not escape the notice of the lad, either, that both his friends filled to the full their old canteens, after which they repaired to one side, where they conversed for some time in low tones, and with such earnest, excited gestures, that it was plain they were in deadly earnest.

"I don't see why they keep everything from me," he muttered, as he observed this. "I think I've seen as big sights as they have for the last few days, and if there's any trouble coming, I wonder whether I haven't got to take my chance the same as them? But I'll let them alone till they get ready to tell me."

He was watching the two as they were talking to each other, when Tom beckoned to him to approach.

"There's no use of talkin'," said the hunter, in a low voice; "we're gettin' into the worst scrimmage of our lives. We're right in the middle of a dangerous tract. We've been seen by the Apaches and they're arter us."

"Why don't you wait until night and go through when they can't see you?"

The hunter shook his head at this seemingly reasonable query.

"The darkness is worse for us than it is for them. They can lay flat on the perarie and hear the sound of the hosses' feet a good deal further off than they can see 'em, and the scamps are so cunnin' they would have drawn us right into some ambush afore we'd knowed anythin' about it. No, we must try it with our eyes open and the sun shinin'."

"But what of it?" asked Ned, who did not see why their position need be looked upon as so critical. "Your mustangs are as fleet as theirs. How are they going to catch you?"

The whole difficulty was then made clear to the lad. If the Apaches were nowhere but in the rear, it would be an easy matter to give them the slip, but they were on the right and left, and in front, and signs that had been seen through the day indicated very clearly that the Indians were carrying out to the letter the plan of which the hunters had spoken, and which they dreaded so much. They had already surrounded them, the circle being quite a number of miles in diameter, and were now simply drawing in their lines.

This, as a matter of course, made a collision inevitable, unless the hunters could manage to steal between these redskins, and, by striking the open country beyond, place the entire company in their rear. Such a plan as this was scarcely possible of accomplishment.

If attempted during the daytime, it would be instantly detected by some of the redskins, who would notify the proper ones, when an immediate concentration would take place in front of the fugitives. If tried during the darkness of night, it would fail. The Apaches would take every imaginable precaution against it and there was no means of concealing the noise made by hoofs. By going on foot they could get through the lines without difficulty; but they could not commit the imprudence of leaving their horses. The situation, therefore, was critical. Tom made known two most important facts. The first was that beyond a doubt Lone Wolf was at the head of the whole enterprise, and they were likely to meet with this treacherous chief again. The second was that, in case they were driven to the wall, the hunters had determined upon taking refuge in a place known as Hurricane Hill.

"It's nothing more than a pile of rocks," added Hardynge. "I've been there before, and it's just the spot to make a desp'rit stand. Two men like us, if we can reach the right p'int, can keep a hundred of the redskins back."

"Won't they get there ahead of us?" asked Ned.

"I think not," replied the hunter, in that hesitating manner which showed that he had thought of the contingency before; "for the reason that I b'leve they'd like to have us run there; but, come, let's be off."

That the mustangs might be relieved, the lad was now taken on the back of Dick's, and the journey toward the southwest was resumed at the same sweeping gallop. Tom took the lead, carefully scanning the ground over which they traveled. For an hour all went well, and then he reined up his steed with startling suddenness.

"Look yonder!" he said, pointing to the south.

Glancing in the direction indicated, the boy saw a number of moving specks, apparently on the very horizon.

"Injuns," said Dick, in a low voice, although the boy scarcely needed the explanation to know they were their old enemies – mounted Apaches.

"Do you see 'em?"

"Yes."

"Now take a peep off there."

This time the hunter pointed exactly opposite, where almost precisely the same thing was visible.

"Now, I s'pose you understand how it all is? They've been keeping along with us all day, a little ahead, and all the time closing in a little. They've got things down to a dot, and mean bus'ness, you can bet."

"But are we anywhere near Hurricane Hill?"

"Yonder it is."

Several miles in advance, a dark, mound-like obstruction appeared against the sky. It was so far away that it was seen only indistinctly, but its character was evidently such as described by the hunter.

"Are you going for it?"

"We are."

And, suiting action to his words, they immediately broke into a gallop which was more rapid than before.

The situation, especially to the boy, became painful in its thrilling intensity. He required no telling to know that the dreaded programme described by his friends was being carried out to the letter. The Apaches were steadily closing in upon them, and it was evident that, if they chose to do so, they could effectually shut them out from reaching their vantage ground. Young Chadmund dreaded such a course upon their part. Somehow or other he had grown to look upon Hurricane Hill as their haven of safety. The few words of recommendation that Tom Hardynge had given it caused this belief upon his part. He did not pause to ask himself what was to be done after reaching it.

Suppose it could be gained in perfect safety, what then? If they should prove themselves fully able to keep a whole host of Apaches at bay, how was the siege to end? If the Indians should content themselves with merely waiting until hunger and thirst could do their work, what more? These questions naturally occurred to the men themselves, but it came back to Hobson's choice after all. And so they dashed ahead, gradually increasing their speed, while the Apaches, with the regularity of machine work, as gradually drew in upon them.

"Will they cut us off?" inquired Ned, when the chase had continued for some time.

"Guess not," replied Dick; "but it don't make much difference."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it begins to look as if they had a dead sure thing of it," said the scout, sententiously.

"I hope not – I hope not," said the trembling lad, who could only pray that Heaven would not desert them in the peril which was encompassing them on every hand.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
HURRICANE HILL

While yet at a considerable distance, the full force of the Indians became developed. They were divided almost equally, fifty being on either hand, and their speed still remained such that the main portion kept ahead of the fugitives, with about half a mile intervening between them and their pursuers. It may have been fancy, but Tom Hardynge maintained that he was able to recognize Lone Wolf among the redskins on the right, and when a short time afterward Dick Morris emphatically asserted the same thing, it began to look as if the belief were well founded.

The sun was quite low in the sky, and the gait of the mustangs began to tell upon them. The two were galloping side by side, and going nearly at full speed. Both Tom and Dick were angry at being forced into such a position, which, to them, was a cowardly flight from a lot of wretches whom they despised and hated.

"I must give 'em my compliments," suddenly exclaimed the latter, when they were within rifle shot of each other. As he spoke, he raised his gun, and fired into Lone Wolf's band.

He seemed to take no aim at all, and, indeed, there was little necessity for it, as the Indians were so numerous and compact. A yell followed and then a commotion, showing very plainly that the shot had told.

"I reckon I'll try it again, it works so well," said Dick, repeating the demonstration, except that he aimed to the company on the left. He took a little more pains to guard against throwing his shot away and the result was similar to the first.

"Now we'll catch it," said the terrified Ned, crouching down beside the hunter, who like his friend was engaged in reloading his gun.

But there was no return fire. The Apaches, evidently, had concluded that they could wait. The shots, however, resulted somewhat advantageously for the fugitives, who, during the momentary confusion thus created, managed to crowd a little ahead. The horses were then put to a dead run and the final rush made for Hurricane Hill, the last refuge for which the fugitives could flee, seeing which, the Indians converged toward them, and made every effort to shut them off.

Although the hunters had apparently used their utmost endeavors up to this time, they had husbanded the strength of their animals so cleverly that their pursuers themselves were deceived, and when they expected to interpose themselves directly across the path, they beheld them flying like a whirlwind toward the rocks.

The few hundred yards remaining between the latter and Hurricane Hill were passed in a few seconds by the fleet-footed mustangs. Ned was fairly dazed by the bewildering rush of events, and hardly able to keep track of their order. He saw the hurrying warriors directly behind them, and the rough, cragged mass of rocks in front. The next moment he was off the mustang. The scouts had checked their beasts at the same instant at the base of Hurricane Hill, and, leaping to the ground, skurried up the steep incline by which its surface was reached. The feet of the lad did not touch the earth. Dick, who was slightly in advance, carried him under his arm as if he were an infant snatched up in haste, and the men bounded toward the top of the hill, the whole howling horde at their heels.

Hurricane Hill, it should be stated, was a pile of rocks about one hundred feet in diameter, with half that height. On one side a narrow path led upward at an angle of forty-five degrees, and, as it permitted only one to pass at a time, the place, with a few defenders, was impregnable against almost any force. This path upward was filled with loose, rattling stones, which sometimes made one's foothold treacherous, and it also made several curious turns, so that, after ascending a rod or so, one was shut out from the view of those upon the ground below.

The very instant this point was reached Dick Morris dropped the lad and exclaimed:

"Now run like thunder, and don't stop till you reach the top."

Then, wheeling about, he leaped back several paces to the assistance of Tom, who was defending the pass like a second Leonidas against the swarming warriors.

A huge, stalwart redskin, who probably believed his strength to be superior to that of the scouts, advanced boldly and seized him, with the evident purpose of drawing him down among the others and making him a prisoner in spite of himself. But he found he had made a slight miscalculation when he was lifted like a child from the ground and hurled over the heads and among the glowering redskins crowding below. The momentum of his body was such that a half dozen were forced backward and almost off their feet. Had the Apaches chosen to do so, it would have been an easy matter to have shot all three of the fugitives, or even two of them, and taken the lad; but they had some old score against Tom and Dick, which could not be wiped out by mere death alone. Now that such a fine opportunity was presented for securing them and indulging in all the luxury of torture, they were not the ones to throw away the chance. Hence, they persistently refused to fire and as persistently forced their way upward.

This check, which might have been simply temporary, was emphasized and made more permanent in its character by Dick, who at the critical moment seized a goodly sized rock, which he drove down among the wretches like the discharge from a fifty pounder. It made terrible work and the discomfited Apaches retreated tumultuously to the bottom, while the hunters hastened away again to the top of the hill. Ned was there awaiting their coming with the most painful misgiving about their coming at all. He knew from the uproar that a desperate fight was raging in the narrow pass, and he feared that the resentful Apaches would overcome the braver hunters, who were defending themselves so desperately. But there they were at last, with the announcement that their enemies had fallen back and a temporary peace was given them.

"Can't expect it to last long, howsomever," added Tom, who breathed scarcely any faster from his terrific exertions. "Them skunks are bound to swallow us whole, and we've got to kick hard to prevent it."

As soon as a little breathing time had been gained, the besieged made an examination of their immediate surroundings, to learn the probable form in which this business was likely to end. The hunters removed all superfluous articles from their persons, – in the shape of canteens and a few appurtenances, – like pugilists who are stripping for a fight.

The surface of Hurricane Hill was generally level, and free from the boulders and obstructions which one would naturally expect to find there, which Tom Hardynge explained by saying that they had all been rolled down upon the Indians below by parties who had been driven to this dernier resorte years before. The position of the three, therefore, was very much as if they were upon the extensive top of a tower which was reached by a narrow stairway, their province being to defend it against all comers.

For some time after the repulse of the Apaches, all remained quiet. Of course, they took charge of the two mustangs that the fugitives had been compelled to leave behind in their flight and then disposed themselves around the refuge, like those who had made up their minds to wait until the fruit dropped into their hands.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Ned naturally viewed the coming night with distrust. Darkness seemed to be the appropriate time for the fiends to work, and more than once he shuddered as he pictured in his imagination the merciless wretches swarming up the narrow path and spreading over the top, like the rush of waters when bursting up from some hidden fountain.

"All we've got to do is to keep our eyes open," said Dick, with a most reassuring manner. "If I could have plenty to eat and drink, with the privilege of sleeping a little now and then, I wouldn't want any better fun than to stay up here for a few months and crack their heads as they come up."

"Shall I do the watching to-night?"

"Not much," grinned Dick. "Tom takes the first half, me the last, and that's as good a way as we can fix it."

"And what shall I do to help?"

"Go to sleep as soon as it is dark, and don't wake up for three or four days – and even then you must not be dry or hungry."

CHAPTER XXXV.
THE SENTINEL

Ned then understood why the two scouts had taken pains to fill their canteens at the brook during the day, and why, also, they so religiously preserved the little lunch still remaining in their possession. It was to guard against just such a contingency.

As the sun approached the horizon, the lad seated himself upon a rocky protuberance and looked off over the surrounding country. To the west, the blue, misty outlines of a moderately high range of mountains shut off all further view.

"Just beyond that," he said to himself, as he fixed his eyes upon the elevation, "Tom tells me is Fort Havens, where father is waiting for me. If he only knew we were here, he might come to our relief. Wouldn't he scatter the redskins down there? But I don't know how he will find it out. Oh! if we were only among those mountains, it wouldn't take us long to go the rest of the way. I suppose the fort can be seen from their top."

To the south, a stratum of yellow vapor stretched for forty degrees along the horizon. There were no buffaloes there, but there had been, and it was the evidence of their passage. To the north, the view was broken by ridges, patches of wood, and curious irregularities of surface, but there was no sign of life among all, nor could it be detected except by peering over the edge of Hurricane Hill down upon the assembled besiegers below. He noticed that Tom Hardynge, shading his eyes with his hand, was gazing off with a fixed intensity in the direction of the mountains which intervened between them and Fort Havens. He said nothing, but there was a significance in his persistency which aroused the curiosity of the lad in no small degree. Could it be that his keen vision detected something tangible toward the setting sun, which was hidden from view by the mountain range? Or was it the mere searching for something upon which to hang his hopes?

Dick Morris was very differently occupied, acting, indeed, as if unaware that anyone else was upon the hill-top besides himself. Crawling to the edge, he was stretched out flat upon his face, his hat removed, while he peered stealthily downward upon the crowd below. Probably, he, too, was searching for something or somebody. There was so much meaning in his actions that the interest of the lad centered upon him, and he watched every motion.

The hunter fidgeted around for a few minutes, as if his posture was not exactly comfortable, and then hastily projecting his gun over the margin, he took a quick aim and fired, and then flinging the weapon aside, looked down again to see the result. All at once, he sprang to his feet, and stamped back toward the center of the plateau, in a terrific rage.

"Ain't it awful!" he exclaimed, adding a forcible expletive. "Did I ever make a bigger mistake?"

"What do you mean, Dick?"

"Hit the wrong skunk."

"How is that?" asked Tom, turning toward him.

"I've been figuring around for half an hour so as to draw a bead on Lone Wolf, and just as I pulled the trigger, I found I'd hit the wrong one. It's trying to one's feelings to be disappointed that way."

"I don't b'leve you'll get a chance at him," said Tom, as he seated himself and resumed his patient scrutiny of the western horizon.

However the scout was not quite in despair, and, reloading his piece, he returned to his position and resumed his watch. But the mistake he had made operated against him in every way. It apprised the Apaches of their danger from this sort of sharp-shooting, and the whole force fell back, while Lone Wolf, who was shrewd enough to know that his life was in special demand, made sure that he was out of range of those fatal rifles. Besides this, it was rapidly growing dark, and before Dick could gain any kind of a chance at all, the light was too dim to afford him the indispensable aim.

The hunters showed a business-like manner of doing things. As soon as it was fairly dark, Dick Morris gave up his hunt for Lone Wolf, and, remarking that there would be no fun until the morrow, rolled over and away from the margin, and was sound asleep within ten minutes.

"You'd better do the same," said Tom to the lad, as he left him alone, and moved down the incline to the position he intended to occupy while acting as sentinel during the first portion of the night.

Ned remained up a considerable time, when, as there seemed to be nothing going on of an alarming nature, he concluded to step out and do the same, if he could control his nerves enough to do so. He was both hungry and thirsty, but not to a very great degree, and as his companions said nothing about eating or drinking, he made up his mind to wait until the morrow. It was about an hour before he became entirely unconscious, but when he shut his eyes they were not opened until morning.

Before that time, however, Tom Hardynge became involved in a little difficulty. The point where he located was about half way between the base and top of Hurricane Hill. Here the path made such an abrupt bend that it was easy to conceal himself, and still keep a sharp watch upon any one coming from below. It was the hunter's belief that an attempt would be made by the Apaches to steal upon them before morning; for, while their enemies were ready to wait three or four days, or as long as was necessary, yet it was to be expected that they would prefer to force matters to a conclusion as speedily as possible. If they could crowd up to the top of the hill and overwhelm the fugitives, they were willing to incur the risk of losing several lives that they might do so. Accordingly, when he assumed his position it was with the expectation that there would be something on the carpet before long.

Nor was he disappointed. For two hours not the slightest sound reached his ears, and then a pebble softly rattled down the incline below him. There might have been no human agency in this slight occurrence, as the loose débris was likely to do the same thing at any moment, but Tom believed that it was caused by the moccasin of an Apache stealing upward. He stealthily peeped around the edge of the rock, but nothing was to be seen. There was a moon in the sky, but its position was such that the path was thrown in shadow, and he could not have detected a man a dozen feet distant.

Fifteen minutes more passed and then the scout became certain that an Indian was stealing up the path toward him. It was a wonder how the thing could be done, without sending streams of gravel and pebbles rattling to the bottom. Hardynge straightened up, still peering around in the gloom.

The moments wore away and still he was able to detect that soft, faint gliding, as if a rattlesnake were getting into a position to strike its prey. By and by – yes, he could now make out the crouching figure approaching through the darkness and he drew back lest he should be seen. Nearer and nearer it drew, while he remained as motionless as the solid rock beside him. Finally, after great delay it stood opposite.

At the very instant it was passing the hand of Tom Hardynge shot straight out with lightning-like quickness and force, and the knife clutched in his iron-like grasp did its duty well. No outcry proclaimed the deed. There was only a gasp and all was over. The moment it was done the hunter straightened up and listened.

"Mebbe there's another behind him."

But the most patient, careful listening failed to detect anything, and, leaving the body lying where it had fallen, he went noiselessly to the top where Dick was sleeping. A gentle touch aroused the latter and he instantly rose to his feet. A few words told him all that had happened and then the two hurriedly discussed the scheme which had occurred to Hardynge a short time before. Two minutes only were needed for them to reach a conclusion.

"I'll do it," muttered Tom, as they arose and began picking their way down the path.