CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
MARCH MARSTON IS PERPLEXED, SO ARE HIS FRIENDS--AN UNLOOKED-FORMEETING--TERRIBLE NEWS--THE ATTACK--THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST ONCE AGAINRENDERS SIGNAL SERVICE TO THE TRAPPERS--WILD DOINGS IN GENERAL, ANDMARCH MARSTON'S CHAGRIN IN PARTICULAR.
"March Marston," said Bounce--and Bounce was sitting beside the campfire, smoking his pipe after supper when he said it--"you may thinkye're a 'cute feller, you may, oncommon 'cute; but if you'll listen towot an oldish hunter says, an' take his advice, you'll come to think, ina feelosophical way, d'ye see? that ye're not quite _so_ 'cute as yesuppose."
Bounce delivered this oracularly, and followed it up with a successionof puffs, each of which was so solidly yellow as to suggest to the mindof Bertram, who chanced to be taking his portrait at that moment, thatthe next puff would burst out in pure flame. Gibault and Big Wallernodded their heads in testimony of their approval of the general scopeof the remark; the latter even went the length of "guessing that it wasa fact," and Redhand smiled. Hawkswing looked, if possible, graver thanusual.
"As," resumed Bounce after a considerable pause, during which Marchlooked and felt very uncomfortable, "the nat'ral eyes of the old menbecomes more dimmer, d'ye see? their mental eyes, so to speak, becomessharper, so as that they can see through no end o' figurativemillstones. That bein' the case when there's no millstone to be seenthrough at all, but only a oncommon thin trans--trans--"
"Ollification," suggested Waller modestly.
"Not at all," retorted Bounce with much severity in his tone. "I _wos_goin' to have said--transparientsy; but I'll not say that now, seein'it's too feelosophical for the likes o' you; but, as I wos sayin', thatbein' the case, d'ye see? it's quite plain that--"
Here Bounce, having got into depths unusually profound even for hisspeculative and philosophical turn of mind, sought refuge in a series ofvoluminous puffs, and wound up, finally, with an emphatic assertion that"there wos somethin' wrong, an' it wos o' no manner o' use to try tothrow dust in _his_ eyes, seein' that his winkin' powers wos sich as toenable him to keep it out, no matter how thick or fast it should come."
"Ah, that's yer sort! I calc'late you're floored there, March," saidWaller gravely. "The fact is, boy, that it won't do; you've gotsomethin' in the background, that Mr Bertram talks sich a heap about.You ought to be fair an' above-board with comrades, ye ought."
"Oui," added Gibault. "Of course, you have lived somewhere, an'somehow, all dis time. It am not posseeble for live nowhere on noting."
"Well, I tell you I have lived with a hunter, who treated me very well,and told me I'd find you here; having learned that, as I understand,from the Wild Man o' the West himself."
"Very true," said Bounce; "but where does the hunter live?"
"In the mountains," replied March.
"So does the Blackfeet, an' the Peigans, an' the Crows, an' the foxes,an' wolves, an' grisly bars," retorted Bounce dryly.
"I'll tell ye what it is," cried the exasperated March, "the curiosityof you fellers beats the squaws out an' out. Now, I'll be open with ye,an' then ye must hold your tongues. This man that I've been stayin'with is a very fine fellow, an' a very wonderful fellow, an' his name'sDick--"
"Dick what?" inquired Bounce.
"Dick nothing," said March.
"Ay! that's a odd name."
"No, I mean he's only called Dick, an' he wouldn't tell me his othername, if he has one. Well, he said to me I was not to tell where helived, as he don't like company, an' so he made me promise, an' I didpromise, d'ye see? so I mean to stick to my promise, and that's allabout it. I would like to tell ye about him, comrades, but you wouldn'thave me break my word, would you?"
"Cer'nly not, by no means," said Bounce. "Does he live all by hislone?"
"No--eh--ah! Well, I fancy it's not breakin' my word to tell ye that--no, he's got a little gal, an adopted daughter, livin' with him."
"Is she good-lookin'?" inquired Bounce quickly, with a sharp glance atthe youth.
March looked a little confused, and, in a hesitating manner, admittedthat she was.
"Ah! I thought so," observed Bounce gravely, shaking his head andlooking unutterably profound, while Gibault gave a low whistle andwinked to Big Waller, who returned the mystic signal with the additionof a knowing nod, all of which movements were observed by poor March,who became very red in the face and felt very angry and remarkablyuncomfortable, and quite unable to decide whether it were better tolaugh or storm. He was saved from all further perplexity on this point,however, by the sudden appearance of a horseman on the distant plain,who seemed to be approaching the valley in which they were encamped. Atfirst he looked like a black speck or a crow on the horizon, and, in theuncertain light of the rapidly closing day, it would have been difficultfor any unaccustomed eye to make out what the object was.
In a short time he drew near enough to be distinguished clearly, and therapid patter of the horse's hoofs on the turf told that the rider wasflying over the ground at an unusual speed. Passing round a clump oflow trees that stretched out from the mouth of the valley into theplain, he came dashing towards the camp--a wild-looking, dishevelledcreature, seemingly in a state of reckless insanity.
"The Wild Man again, surely," said Bounce, who, with his companions, hadrisen to await the coming up of the stranger.
"D'you think so?" cried March Marston eagerly.
"Ye--eh? why, I do b'lieve it's Mr Macgregor," cried the astonishedBounce as the reckless rider dashed up to the camp fire, and, springingfrom his horse with a yell that savoured more of a savage than acivilised spirit, cried--
"Look out, lads; up with a pile o' rocks an' trees! They'll be on us ina jiffy! There's five hundred o' the red reptiles if there's one. TheMountain Fort's burned to cinders--every man and woman dead andscalped--look alive!"
These words were uttered hastily in broken exclamations, as Macgregorseized the logs that had been cut for firewood, and began violently totoss them together in a pile; while the trappers, although much amazedand horrified at the news, seized their hatchets and began to makeinstant preparation to resist an attack, without wasting time in uselessquestions. They observed that the commander of the Mountain Fort waspale as death, that his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes torn, and hishands and face begrimed with powder and stained with blood.
March Marston worked like a hero at the rude breastwork for some time,although the effort caused him so much pain that he could not helpshowing it on his countenance.
"March," said Bounce, seizing him suddenly by the shoulder, "you're notfit to work, an' much less fit to fight. I'll tell ye wot to do, lad.Jump on my horse, an' away to yer friend the trapper, an' bring him hereto help us. One stout arm 'll do us more good this night than tenbattered bodies sich as yours, poor feller."
March felt the truth of this, so without delay turned to obey. Just ashe was about to leave he heard a deep groan, and turning round, sawMacgregor fall to the ground.
"You're ill," he cried, running to him and kneeling down.
"No--not ill, just a scratch from an arrow," gasped the trader with anoath. "I believe the head's stickin' in my back."
"Away, March," cried Redhand, "we'll look to this. Waller, out wi' thefire, man; ye used to be more spry when--ah! too late, there they are,they've seen us."
"Into the fort, boys!" cried Bounce, alluding to the breastwork, "wedon't need to care; with plenty o' powder and lead, we can keep fivethousand redskins off."
March heard no more. Dashing up the glen at full speed, he disappearedfrom the spot, just as the distant yell of the savage host came floatingupon the wings of the night air, apprising the trappers that their firehad been observed, and that they would have to fight manfully if theyhoped to carry their scalps home with them.
In a few minutes the Indians drew near, and scattering themselves roundthe little entrenchment, began to discharge clouds of arrows at it, but,fortunately, without doing any damage. An inaccessible cliff protectedtheir rear, and behi
nd a projection of this the trappers' horses weresecured. The breastwork lay immediately in front.
Again and again the savages let fly their shafts, but without drawingany reply from the trappers, who kept close under cover and reservedtheir fire. This tempted their enemies to approach, and, when withinshort range, they seemed about to make a rush, supposing, no doubt, thatthe party concealed behind the breastwork must be Indians, since theydid not use firearms. Just then Redhand gave a preconcerted signal;three sheets of flame spouted from their guns, and three of the foremostIndians fell dead from their horses.
With a terrible yell the others turned to fly, but before they hadretreated a yard three more shots were fired with deadly effect. Theynow took shelter behind trees and rocks, and attempted to dislodge thetrappers by discharging arrows into the air at such an angle that theyshould drop into their fortress. One or two endeavoured to ascend thesteep cliff, but the instant an arm or a shoulder appeared, a ball fromRedhand's deadly rifle struck it, so the attempt was abandoned.
While this was going on, March Marston galloped to Dick's cave, andstartled poor Mary not a little by the abruptness of his entrance. But,to his mortification, Dick was not at home. It so chanced that thatwild individual had taken it into his head to remain concealed in thewoods near the spot where he had parted from his late guest, and had notonly witnessed the meeting of March with his friends, but had seen thearrival of Macgregor, the subsequent departure of March in the directionof the cave, and the attack made by the Indians. When, therefore, theyouth was speeding towards his cavern, the Wild Man (who was not sorryto see him go off on such an errand), was busily planning the best modeof attacking the enemy so as to render effectual aid to the trappers.
Observing that the Indians had clustered together at the foot of arugged cliff, apparently for the purpose of holding a council of war,Dick made his way quickly to the summit of the cliff, and, leaving hischarger on an eminence that sloped down towards the entrance of thevalley, quickly and noiselessly carried several huge stones to the edgeof the precipice, intending to throw them down on the heads of his foes.Just as he was about to do so, he observed an overhanging mass of rock,many tons in weight, which the frosts of winter had detached from theprecipice. Placing his feet against this, and leaning his back againstthe solid rock, he exerted himself with all his might, like a secondSamson. No human power could have moved such a rock, had it not beenalmost overbalanced; but, being so, Dick's effort moved it. Again hestrained, until the great veins seemed about to burst through the skinof his neck and forehead. Gradually the rock toppled and fell, and theWild Man fell along with it.
In the agony of that moment he uttered a cry so terrible that it mightwell have been supposed to have come from the throat of a supernaturalbeing. The Indians had not time to evade the danger. The ponderousmass in its descent hit a projecting crag, and burst into smallerfragments, which fell in a rattling shower, killing two men, andwounding others. Those of the group who escaped, as well as those whochanced to be beyond the danger, saw, by the dim moonlight, the Wild Manof the West descending, as it were, like a furious demon in the midst ofthe dire confusion of dust and rocks. They knew him well. It wantedbut this to fill them to overflow with superstitious dread. They turnedand fled. The trappers, although amazed beyond measure, and halfsuspecting who it was that had thus suddenly come to their aid, mountedtheir horses, and, leaping over their barricade, rushed down the valleyin pursuit, firing a volley at starting, and loading as they rode atfull speed. In his descent Dick made what might well be termed amiraculous escape. Near the foot of the cliff he went crashing througha thick bush, which broke his fall. Still he retained impetussufficient to have seriously injured if not killed him, had he notalighted in the midst of another bush, which saved him so completelythat he was not even hurt.
Dick could scarcely believe his own senses; but he was not a man givento indulge much wandering thought in times of action. Giving himselfone shake, to make sure of his being actually sound in wind and limb, hebounded away up the precipice by a path with which he was wellacquainted, reached his horse, flew by a short cut to the mouth of thevalley, and, wheeling suddenly round, met the horrified Indians in thevery teeth!
The roar with which he met them was compound in its nature, andaltogether hideous! His mind was in a mingled condition of amazementand satisfaction at his escape, triumph at the success of his plan, andindignation at the cowardly wickedness of the savages. A rollickingspecies of mad pugnacity took possession of him, and the consequencewas, that the sounds which issued from his leathern throat werepositively inhuman.
The rushing mass of terror-stricken men, thus caught, as it were,between two fires, divided, in order to escape him. Dick was not sorryto observe this. He felt that the day was gained without furtherbloodshed. He knew that the superstitious dread in which he was heldwas a guarantee that the savages would not return; so, instead ofturning with the trappers to join in the pursuit, he favoured them witha concluding and a peculiarly monstrous howl, and then rode quietly awayby a circuitous route to his own cavern.
Thus he avoided March Marston, who, on finding that his friend Dick wasout, had returned at full speed to aid his comrades, and arrived just intime to meet them returning, triumphant and panting, from their pursuitof the foe!
"Are they gone?" cried March in amazement.
"Ay, right slick away into the middle o' nowhar," replied Big Waller,laughing heartily. "Did ye iver hear such a roarer, comrades?"
"Have you licked 'em out an' out?" continued the incredulous March, "Ay,out an' out, an' no mistake," replied Bounce, dismounting.
"Well, that _is_ lucky," said March; "for my friend Dick I found wasnot--"
"Ah! we not have need him," interrupted Gibault, wiping the perspirationfrom his forehead, "de Wild Man of de West hims come, an'--oh! youshould see what hims have bin do!"
"The Wild Man again!" exclaimed March in dismay--"an' me absent!"
Gibault nodded and laughed.
At that moment an exclamation from Redhand attracted the attention ofthe whole party. He was kneeling beside Macgregor, who had dismountedand lain down.
"I believe they've done for me," said the fur trader faintly. "Thatarrow must have gone deeper than I thought."
"You'd better let me see the wound, sir," said Redhand; "your shirt iscovered with blood."
"No, no," said the wounded man savagely; "let me rest--see, I'm betternow. You will find a flask in the bag at my saddle-bow. Bring ithere."
"I know that Dick--the hunter--is a good hand at doctoring," said March."What a pity he is not here! We might carry you there, sir."
"Carry me," laughed the fur trader fiercely; "no, I'll never be carriedtill I'm carried to my grave. How far off is his place? Where stayshe?"
"Four miles from this. I'll take you if you can ride," said March.
"Ay, that I can, bravely," cried the trader, who, having taken a deepdraught of spirits, seemed to be imbued with new life. "Come, youngsir, mount."
The trappers endeavoured to dissuade the violent man from the attempt,but he could not be controlled; so March, hastily observing that hewould see him safe to the hunter's abode and return without delay,mounted his horse and rode away, followed by the wounded man.
The Wild Man of the West: A Tale of the Rocky Mountains Page 22
