But Joses?
Of course he was at his post, and the question now was, would he remain undiscovered, or would the Indians find the hiding-place of the horses, and after killing Joses sweep them all away?
It was a terrible thought, for to be left alone in that vast plain without horses seemed too hard to be borne. At the first blush it made Bart shudder, and it was quite in despair that with cocked rifle he waited for morning light, which seemed as if it would never come.
Bart’s thoughts were many, and frequent were the whispered conversations with the Doctor, as to whether the Indians would not find the cache of the horses as soon as it was daylight by their trail, though to this he had answered that the ground all around was so marked by horses’ hoofs that it was not likely that any definite track would be made out.
Then moment by moment they expected their own hiding-place to be known, and that they would be engaged fighting for their lives with their relentless foes; but the hours wore on, and though they could hear the buzz of many voices, and sometimes dark shadowy forms could be made out away on the plain, the fugitives were in dense shadow, and remained unmolested till the break of day.
By this time Bart had given Maude such comforting intelligence as he could, bidding her be hopeful, for that these Indians must be strangers to the place, or they would have known of the way up the mountain, and searched it at once.
“But if they found it in the morning, Bart,” she said, “what then?”
“What then?” said Bart, with a coolness he did not feel. “Why, then we shall have to kill all the poor wretches—that’s all.”
Maude shuddered, and Bart returned to where the Beaver was at the opening, watching the place where the enemy had been plundering the waggon, and had afterwards stirred up the camp fire and were seated round.
“Joses was glad that he had put away the powder,” thought Bart, as he saw the glare of the fire. “I begin to wish it had been left.”
* * *
Chapter Eighteen.
Two Horrors.
Morning at last, and from their hiding-place the fugitives could see that the Indians were in great numbers, and whilst some were with their horses, others were gathered together in a crowd about the post-like tree-trunk half-way between the gate of the mountains, as Bart called it, and the camp.
The greatest caution was needed to keep themselves from the keen sight of the Indians, who had apparently seen nothing of the horses’ trail; and as far as Bart could tell, Joses was so far safe. Still it was like this:— If the Indians should begin to examine the face of the rock, they must find both entries, and then it was a question of brave defence, though it seemed impossible but that numbers must gain the mastery in the end.
“Poor Joses!” thought Bart, and the tears rose to his eyes. “I’d give anything to be by his side, to fight with him and defend the horses.”
Then he began to wonder how many charges of powder he would have, and how long he could hold out.
“A good many will fall before they do master him,” thought Bart, “if he’s not captured already. I wonder whether they have hurt Juan and Sam.”
Just then the crowd about the post fell back, and the Doctor put his glass to his eye, and then uttered a cry of horror.
He glanced round directly to see if Maude had heard him, but she, poor girl, had fallen fast asleep in the niche where they had placed her, to be out of reach of bullets should firing begin.
“What is it, sir?” cried Bart. “Ah, I see. How horrible! The wretches! May I begin to shoot?”
“You could do no good, and so would only bring the foe down upon my child,” said the Doctor sternly.
“But it is Juan, is it not?” cried Bart, excitedly.
“Yes,” said the Doctor, using the glass, “and Sam. They have stripped the poor fellows almost entirely, and painted Death’s heads and cross-bones upon their hearts.”
“Oh yes,” cried Bart, in agony, “I can see;” and he looked with horror upon the scene, for there, evidently already half dead, their breasts scored with knives, and their ankles bound, Juan and Sam were suspended by means of a lariat, bound tightly to their wrists, and securely twisted round the upper part of the old blasted tree. The poor fellows’ hats and a portion of their clothes lay close by them, and as they hung there, inert and helpless, Bart, and his companion saw the cruel, vindictive Indians draw off to a short distance, and joining up into a close body, they began to fire at their prisoners, treating them as marks on which to try their skill with the rifle.
The sensation of horror this scene caused was indescribable, and Bart turned to the Doctor with a look of agony in his eyes.
“Quick!” he said; “let us run out and save them. Oh, what monsters! They cannot be men.”
The Indian who acted as interpreter spoke rapidly to the chief, who replied, and then the Indian turned to the Doctor and Bart.
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth says if we want to go out to fight, they are so many we should all be killed. We must not go.”
“He is right, Bart,” said the Doctor, hoarsely. “I am willing enough to fight, but the presence of Maude seems to unman me. I dare not attempt anything that would risk her life.”
“But it is so horrible,” cried Bart, peering out of his hiding-place excitedly, but only to feel the Beaver’s hand upon his shoulder, forcing him down into his old niche.
“Indian dog see,” whispered the Beaver, who was rapidly picking up English words and joining them together.
The sharp report of rifle after rifle was heard now, and after every shot there was a guttural yell of satisfaction.
“They will kill them, sir,” panted Bart, who seemed as if he could hardly bear to listen to what was going on.
“They must have been dead, poor fellows, when they were hung up there, Bart. I would that we dared attack the monsters.”
“Can you see any sign of Joses, sir?” asked Bart.
“No, my boy; no sign of him, poor fellow! Heaven grant that he be not seen.”
All this time the Indians were rapidly loading and firing at the two unfortunate men, and, to Bart’s horror, he could hear bullet after bullet strike them, the others hitting the rocky face of the mountain with a sharp pat, and in the interval of silence that followed those in hiding could hear some of the bullets afterwards fall.
Every time the savages thought they had hit their white prisoners they uttered a yell of triumph, and Dr Lascelles knew that this terrible scene was only the prologue to one of a far more hideous nature, when, with a fiendish cruelty peculiar to their nature, they would fall upon their victims with their knives, to flay off their scalps and beards, leaving the terribly mutilated bodies to the birds and beasts of the plains.
“I could hit several of them, I’m sure,” panted Bart, eagerly. “Pray, sir, let’s fire upon them, and kill some of the wretches. I never felt like this before, but now it seems as if I must do something to punish those horrible fiends.”
“We could all fire and bring down some of them, Bart,” whispered the Doctor; “but there are fully a hundred there, my boy, and we must be the losers in the end. They would never leave till they had killed us every one.”
Bart hung his head, and stood there resting upon his rifle, wishing that his ears could be deaf to the hideous yelling and firing that kept going on, as the Indians went on with their puerile sport of wreaking their empty vengeance upon the bodies of the two men whom they had slain.
Twenty times over the Doctor raised his rifle, and as often let it fall, as he knew what the consequences of his firing would be, while, when encouraged by this act on the part of his elder, Bart did likewise, it was for the Beaver to press the barrel down with his brown hand, shaking his head and smiling gravely the while.
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth,” said the interpreter, “says that the young chief must wait till the Indian dogs are not so many; then he shall kill all he will, and take all their scalps.”
“Ugh!” shuddered Bart, “as if I wanted to tak
e scalps! I could feel pleased though if they killed and took the scalps of all these wretches. No, I don’t want that,” he muttered, “but it is very horrible, and it nearly drives me mad to see the cruel monsters shooting at our two poor men. How they can—”
“Good heavens!” ejaculated the Doctor; “what’s that?”
They were all gazing intently at the great post where the firing was going on, and beyond it at the group of Indians calmly loading and firing, with a soft film of smoke floating away above their heads, when all at once, just in their midst, there was a vivid flash of light, and the air seemed to be full of blocks of stone, which were driven up with a dense cloud of smoke. Then there was a deafening report, which echoed back from the side of the mountain; a trembling of the ground, as if there had been an earthquake; the great pieces of stone fell here and there; and then, as the smoke spread, a few Indians could be seen rushing hard towards where their companions were gathered with their horses, while about the spot where the earth had seemed to vomit forth flame, rocks and stones were piled-up in hideous confusion, mingled with quite a score of the bodies of Indians.
There was no hesitation on the part of the survivors. The Great Spirit had spoken to them in his displeasure, and those who had not been smitten seized their horses, those which had no riders now kept with them, and the whole band went off over the plain at full speed; while no sooner were they well away upon the plain, than the Beaver and his party laid their rifles aside, and dashed out, knife and hatchet in hand, killing two or three injured men before the Doctor could interfere, as he and Bart ran out, followed by Harry.
It was a hideous sight, and perhaps it was a merciful act the killing of the wretches by the Beaver and his men, for they were horribly injured by the explosion, while others had arms and legs blown off. Some were crushed by the falling stones, others had been killed outright at first; and as soon as he had seen but a portion of the horrors, the Doctor sent Bart back to bid Maude be in no wise alarmed, for the enemy were gone, but she must not leave the place where she was hiding for a while.
Bart found her looking white and trembling with dread, but a few words satisfied her, and the lad ran back, to pass the horrible mass of piled-up stones and human beings with a shudder, as he ran on and joined the Doctor and Joses, who was standing outside his hiding-place, perfectly unharmed, and leaning upon his rifle.
Bart was about to burst forth into a long string of congratulations, but somehow they all failed upon his lips. He tried to speak, but he choked and found it impossible. All he could do for a few moments was to catch the great rough hands of Joses in his, and stand shaking them with all his might.
Joses did not reply; he only looked a little less grim than usual as he returned Bart’s grip with interest.
“Why, you thought the Injun had got me, did you, Master Bart? You thought the Injun had got me. Well, they hadn’t this time, you see, but I ’spected they’d find me out every moment. I meant to fight it out though till all my powder was gone, and then I meant to back the horses at the Injun, and make them kick as long as I could, for of course you wouldn’t have been able to come.”
“I am glad you are safe, Joses,” cried Bart, at last. “It is almost like a miracle that they didn’t find you, and that the explosion took place. It must have been our keg of powder, Joses, that you hid under the stones.”
“Think so, Master Bart?” said Joses, as if deeply astonished.
“Yes,” cried Bart, “it must have been that.”
“Yes,” said the Doctor. “The wretches must have dropped a burning wad, or something of that kind.”
“But it was very horrible,” cried Bart.
“Yes, horrible,” assented the Doctor.
“But it saved all us as was left, Master,” said Joses, gruffly. “They’d have found us out else, and served us the same as they did poor old Sam and old Juan. What beasts Injun is.”
“Yes, it saved our lives, Joses, and it was as it were a miracle. But there, don’t let’s talk about it. We must take steps to bury those poor creatures, and that before my child comes out. Do you think the enemy will come back?” he continued, turning to the interpreter.
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth says no: not for days,” was the reply; and, willingly enough, the Indians helped their white friends to enlarge the hole ploughed out by the explosion of the powder keg, which was easily done by picking out a few pieces of rock, when there was ample room for the dead, who, after some hour or two’s toil, were buried beneath the stones.
The remains of the two poor fellows, Juan and Sam, were buried more carefully, with a few simple rites, and then, saddened and weary, the Doctor turned to seek Maude.
Bart was about to follow him, when Joses took him by the sleeve.
“I wouldn’t say anything to the master, but I must tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“About the explosion, Master Bart.”
“Well, I saw it,” said Bart.
“Yes, but you didn’t see how it happened.”
“I thought we had decided that.”
“Well, you thought so, but you wasn’t right, and I didn’t care to brag about it; but I did it, Master Bart.”
“You fired that powder, and blew all those poor wretches to eternity!” cried Bart, in horror.
“Now don’t you get a looking like that, Master Bart. Why, of course I did it. Where’s the harm? They killed my two poor fellows, and they’d have killed all of us, and set us up to shoot at if they’d had the chance.”
“Well, Joses, I suppose you are right,” said Bart, “but it seems very horrible.”
“Deal more horrible if they’d killed Miss Maude.”
“Oh, hush! Joses,” cried Bart excitedly, “Tell me, though, how did you manage it.”
“Well, you see, Master Bart, it was like this. I stood looking on at their devilry till I felt as if I couldn’t bear it no longer, and then all at once I recollected the powder, and I thought that if I could put a bullet through the keg it would blow it up, and them too.”
“And did you, Joses?”
“Well, I did, Master Bart, but it took me a long while for it. I knew exactly where it was, but I couldn’t see it for the crowd of fellows round, and I daren’t shoot unless I was sure, or else I should have brought them on to me like a shot.”
“Of course, of course, Joses,” cried Bart, who was deeply interested.
“Well, Master Bart, I had to wait till I thought I should never get a chance, and then they opened right out, and I could see the exact spot where to send my bullet, when I trembled so that I daren’t pull trigger, and when I could they all crowded up again.”
“But they gave you another chance, Joses?” cried Bart excitedly.
“To be sure they did, my lad, at last, and that time it was only after a deal of dodging about that there was any chance, and, laying my rifle on the rock, I drew trigger, saw the stones, flash as the bullet struck, just, too, when they were all cheering, the beasts, at what they’d done to those two poor fellows.”
“And then there was the awful flash and roar, Joses?”
“Yes, Master Bart, and the Injuns never knew what was the matter, and that’s all.”
“All, Joses?”
“Yes, Master Bart, and wasn’t it enough? But you’d better not tell the master; he might say he didn’t object to an Injun or two killed in self-defence, but that this was wholesale.”
Bart promised to keep the matter a secret, and he went about for the rest of the day pondering upon the skill of Joses with the rifle, and what confidence he must have had in his power to hit the keg hidden under the stones to run such a risk, for, as he said, a miss would have brought down the Indians upon him, and so Bart said once more.
“Yes, Master Bart; but then, you see, I didn’t miss, and we’ve got rid of some of the enemy and scared the rest away.”
* * *
Chapter Nineteen.
Beating up for Recruits.
The cause of t
he explosion remained a secret between Bart and Joses, and in the busy times that followed there was but little opportunity for dwelling upon the trouble. The Doctor was full of the discovery and the necessity for taking steps to utilise its value, for now they were almost helpless—the greater part of their ammunition was gone; their force was weakened by the loss of two men; and, worst of all, it was terribly insecure, for at any moment the Indians might get over their fright, and come back to bury their dead. If this were so, they would find that the task had already been done, and then they would search for and find the occupants of the camp.
This being so, the Doctor suddenly grew calm.
“I’ve made my plans,” he said, quietly.
“Yes?” exclaimed Maude and Bart, in a breath.
“We must go straight back to our starting-place, and then on to Lerisco, and there I must get the proper authorisations from the government, and afterwards organise a large expedition of people, and bring them here at once.”
He had hardly made this announcement when the Beaver came slowly up to stand with his follower the interpreter behind, and looking as if he wished to say something in particular.
The Doctor rose, and pointed to a place where his visitor could sit down, but the chief declined.
“Enemy,” he said sharply. “Indian dogs.”
Then he turned round quickly to the interpreter.
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth says the Apachés will be back to-night to see why the earth opened and killed their friends.”
“Indeed! So soon?” said the Doctor.
“The chief says we must go from here till the Indian dogs have been. Then we can come back.”
“That settles it, Bart,” exclaimed the Doctor. “We’ll start at once.”
The preparations needed were few, and an hour later they were retreating quickly across the plain, the coming darkness being close at hand to veil their movements, so that when they halted to rest in the morning they were a long distance on their way, and sheltered by a patch of forest trees that looked like the remains of some tract of woodland that had once spread over the plain.
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