Salute to Adventurers

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER XXV.

  EVENTS ON THE HILL-SIDE.

  My body was too sore to suffer me to sleep dreamlessly, but my dreamswere pleasant. I thought I was in a sunny place with Elspeth, and thatshe had braided a coronet of wild flowers for her hair. They weresimple flowers, such as I had known in childhood and had not found inVirginia--yarrow, and queen of the meadow, and bluebells, and thelittle eyebright. A great peace filled me, and Ringan came presently tous and spoke in his old happy speech. 'Twas to the accompaniment ofElspeth's merry laughter that I wakened, to find myself in a dark,strange-smelling place, with a buffalo robe laid over me, and no stitchof clothing on my frame.

  That wakening was bitter indeed. I opened my eyes to another day ofpain and peril, with no hope of deliverance. For usual I am one ofthose who rise with a glad heart and a great zest for whatever thelight may bring. Now, as I moved my limbs, I found aches everywhere,and but little strength in my bones. Slowly the events of the last daycame back to me--the journey in the dripping woods, the fight in theravine, the death of my comrade, the long horror of the hours oftorture. No man can be a hero at such an awakening. I had not thecourage of a chicken in my soul, and could have wept with weakness andterror.

  I felt my body over, and made out that I had taken no very desperatehurt. My joints were swollen with the bonds, and every sinew seemed asstiff as wire. The skin had been scorched on my shins and feet, and waspeeling off in patches, but the ointment which had been rubbed on ithad taken the worst ache out of the wounds. I tottered to my feet, andfound that I could stand, and even move slowly like an old man. Myclothes had been brought back and laid beside me, and with muchdifficulty I got into them; but I gave up the effort to get mystockings and boots over my scorched legs. My pistols, too, had beenrestored, and Ringan's sword, and the gold amulet he had entrusted tome. Somehow, in the handling of me, my store of cartouches haddisappeared from my pockets. My pistols were loaded and ready for use,but that was the extent of my defences, for I was no more good withRingan's sword than with an Indian bow.

  A young lad brought me some maize porridge and a skin of water. I couldeat little of the food, but I drank the water to the last drop, for mythroat was as dry as the nether pit. After that I lay down on my couchagain, for it seemed to me that I would need to treasure every atom ofmy strength. The meal had put a little heart in me--heart enough towait dismally on the next happening.

  Presently the chief whom they called Onotawah stood at the tent door,and with him a man who spoke the Powhatan tongue.

  "Greeting, brother," he said.

  "Greeting," I answered, in the stoutest tone I could muster.

  "I come from the council of the young men, where the blood of our kincries for the avenger. The Sons of the West Wind have seen the courageof the stranger, and would give him the right of combat as a free manand a brave. Is my brother ready to meet our young men in battle?"

  I was about as fit to right as an old horse to leap a fence, but I hadthe wit to see that my only hope lay in a bold front. At any rate, aclean death in battle was better than burning, and my despair was toodeep to let me quibble about the manner of leaving this world.

  "You see my condition," I said. "I am somewhat broken with travel andwounds, but, such as I am, I am willing to meet your warriors. Sendthem one at a time or in battalions, and I am ready for them."

  It was childish brag, but I think I must have delivered it with somespirit, for I saw approbation in his eye.

  "When we fight, we fight not as butchers but as men-at-arms," he said."The brother of one of the dead will take on himself the cause of ourtribe. If he slay you, our honour is avenged. If he be slain, we saveyou alive, and carry you with us as we march to the rising sun."

  "I am content," I said, though I was very little content. What earthlychance stood I against a lithe young brave, accustomed from hischildhood to war? I thought of a duel hand-to-hand with knives ortomahawks, for I could not believe that I would be allowed to keep mypistols. It was a very faint-hearted combatant who rose and staggeredafter Onotawah into the clear morning. The cloudy weather had gone, andthe glen where we lay was filled with sun and bright colours. Even inmy misery I saw the fairness of the spectacle, and the cool plunge ofthe stream was grateful to my throbbing eyes.

  The whole clan was waiting, a hundred warriors as tall and clean-limbedas any captain could desire. I bore no ill-will to my captors; indeed,I viewed them with a respect I had never felt for Indians before. Theywere so free in their walk, so slim and upstanding, so hawklike in eyeand feature, and withal so grave, that I could not but admire them. Ifthe Tidewater was to perish, 'twould be at the hands of no unworthyfoes.

  A man stood out from the others, a tall savage with a hard face, wholooked at me with eyes of hate. I recognized my opponent, whom thechief called by some name like Mayoga.

  Before us on the hill-side across the stream was a wood, with itslimits cut as clear on the meadow as a coppice in a nobleman's park.'Twas maybe half a mile long as it stretched up the slope, and aboutthe same at its greatest width. The shape was like a stout bean with ahollow on one side, and down the middle ran the gorge of a mountainstream.

  Onotawah pointed to the wood. "Hearken, brother, to the customs of ourrace in such combats. In that thicket the twain of you fight. Mayogawill enter at one end and you at the other, and once among the trees itis his business to slay you as he pleases and as he can."

  "What, are the weapons?" I asked.

  "What you please. You have a sword and your little guns."

  Mayoga laughed loud. "My bow is sufficient," he cried. "See, I leaveknife and tomahawk behind," and he cast them on the grass.

  Not to be outdone, I took off my sword, though that was more anencumbrance than a weapon.

  "I have but the two shots," I said.

  "Then I will take but the two arrows," cried my opponent, shaking therest out of his quiver; and at this there was a murmur of applause.There were some notions of decency among these Western Indians.

  I bade him take a quiverful. "You will need them," said I, looking astruculent as my chicken heart would permit me.

  They took me to the eastern side of the wood, and there we waited forthe signal, which was a musket shot, telling me that Mayoga was readyto enter at the opposite end. My companions were friendly enough, andseemed to look on the duel as a kind of sport. I could not understandtheir tongue, but I fancy that they wagered among themselves on theissue, if, indeed, that was in doubt, or, at any rate, on the timebefore I should fall. They had forgotten that they had tortured me thenight before, and one clapped me on the shoulder and seemed toencourage me. Another pointed to my raw shins, and wound some kind ofsoft healing fibre round my feet and ankles. I did my best to keep astout face, and when the shot came, I waved my hand to them and plungedboldly into the leafy darkness.

  But out of the presence of men my courage departed, and I became theprey of dismal fear. How was I, with my babyish woodcraft, to contendfor a moment against an Indian who was as subtle and velvet-footed as awild beast? The wood was mostly of great oaks and chestnuts, with adense scrub of vines and undergrowth, and in the steepest parts of thehill-side many mossgrown rocks. I found every movement painful in thatrough and matted place. For one thing, I made an unholy noise. Mytender limbs shrank from every stone and twig, and again and again Irolled over with the pain of it. Sweat blinded my eyes, and thefatigues of yesterday made my breath labour like a foundered horse.

  My first plan--if the instinct of blind terror can be called a plan--was to lie hid in some thick place and trust to getting the first shotat my enemy when he found me. But I realized that I could not do this.My broken nerves would not suffer me to lie hidden. Better the tortureof movement than such terrible patience. So I groped my way on,starting at every movement in the thicket. Once I roused a deer, whichbroke off in front of me towards my adversary. That would tell him mywhereabouts, I thought, and for some time I lay still with apalpitating heart. But soon the silence resumed its sway, a d
eathlikesilence, with far off the faint tinkle of water.

  By and by I reached the stream, the course of which made an open spacea few yards wide in the trees. The sight of its cool foaming currentmade me reckless. I dipped my face in it, drank deep of it, and let itflow over my burning legs. Then I scrambled up the other bank, andentered my enemy's half of the wood. He had missed a fine chance, Ithought, in not killing me by the water's edge; and this escape, andthe momentary refreshment of the stream, heartened me enough to carryme some way into his territory.

  The wood was thinner here, and the ground less cumbered. I moved fromtree to tree, crawling in the open bits, and scanning each circle ofgreen dusk before I moved. A red-bird fluttered on my right, and I laylong watching its flight. Something moved ahead of me, but 'twas only asquirrel.

  Then came a mocking laugh behind me. I turned sharply, but saw nothing.Far up in the branches there sounded the slow flap of an owl's flight.Many noises succeeded, and suddenly came one which froze my blood--theharsh scream of a hawk. My enemy was playing with me, and calling thewild things to mock me.

  I went on a little, and then turned up the hill to where a clump ofpines made a darker patch in the woodland. All was quiet again, and myeyes searched the dusk for the sign of human life. Then suddenly I sawsomething which stiffened me against a trunk.

  Forty paces off in the dusk a face was looking from behind a tree. Itwas to the west of me, and was looking downhill towards a patch ofundergrowth. I noted the long feather, the black forelock, the red skinof the forehead.

  At the sight for the first time the zest of the pursuit filled me, andI forgot my pain. Had I outwitted my wily foe, and by some miraclestolen a march on him? I dared not believe it; but yet, as I rubbed myeyes, I could not doubt it. I had got my chance, and had taken himunawares. The face still peered intently downhill. I lifted a pistol,took careful aim, and fired at the patch of red skin.

  A thousand echoes rang through the wood. The bullet had grazed the treetrunk, and the face was gone. But whither? Did a dead man lie behindthe trunk, or had a wounded man crawled into cover?

  I waited breathlessly for a minute or two, and then went forward, withmy second pistol at the cock.

  There was nothing behind the tree. Only a piece of red bark with abullet hole through it, some greasy horsehair, and a feather. And thenfrom many quarters seemed to come a wicked laughter, I leaned againstthe trunk, with a deadly nausea clutching at my heart. Poor fool, I hadrejoiced for a second, only to be dashed into utter despair!

  I do not think I had ever had much hope, but now I was convinced thatall was over. The water had made my burns worse, and disappointment hadsapped the little remnants of my strength. My one desire was to get outof this ghoulish thicket and die by the stream-side. The cool sound ofit would be a fitting dirge for a foolish fellow who had wandered farfrom his home.

  I could hear the plunge of it, and struggled towards it. I was longpast taking any care. I stumbled and slipped along the hill-side, mybreath labouring, and a moaning at my lips from sheer agony andweakness. If an arrow sped between my ribs I would still reach thewater, for I was determined to die with my legs in its flow.

  Suddenly it was before me. I came out on a mossy rock above a deep,clear pool, into which a cascade tumbled. I knelt feebly on the stone,gazing at the blue depths, and then I lifted my eyes.

  There on a rock on the other side stood my enemy.

  He had an arrow fitted to his bow, and as I looked he shot. It struckme on the right arm, pinning it just above the elbow. The pistol, whichI had been carrying aimlessly, slipped from my nerveless hand to themoss on which I kneeled.

  That sudden shock cleared my wits. I was at his mercy, and he knew it.I could see every detail of him twenty yards off across the water. Hestood there as calm and light as if he had just arisen from rest, hispolished limbs shining in the glow of the sun, the muscles on his rightarm rippling as he moved his bow. Madman that I was, ever to hope tocontend with such dauntless youth, such tireless vigour! There was acruel, thin-lipped smile on his face. He had me in his clutches like acat with a mouse, and he was going to get the full zest of it. Ikneeled before him, with my strength gone, my right arm crippled. Hecould choose his target at his leisure, for I could not resist. I sawthe gloating joy in his eyes. He knew his power, and meant to missnothing of its savour.

  Yet in that fell predicament God gave me back my courage. But I took aqueer way of showing it. I began to whimper as if in abject fear. Everylimb was relaxed in terror, and I grovelled on my knees before him. Imade feeble plucks at the arrow in my right arm, and my shoulderdrooped almost to the sod. But all the time my other hand was behind myback, edging its way to the pistol. My fingers clutched at the butt,and slowly I began to withdraw it till I had it safe in the shadow ofmy pocket.

  My enemy did not know that I was left-handed.

  He fitted a second arrow to his bow, while his lips curved maliciously.All the demoniac, pantherlike cruelty of his race looked at me out ofhis deep eyes. He was taking his time about it, unwilling to lose theslightest flavour of his vengeance. I played up to him nobly, squirmingas if in an agony of terror. But by this time I had got a comfortableposture on the rock, and my left shoulder was towards him.

  At last he made his choice, and so did I. I never thought that I couldmiss, for if I had had any doubt I should have failed. I was asconfident in my sureness as any saint in the mercy of God.

  He raised his bow, but it never reached his shoulder. My left arm shotout, and my last bullet went through his brain.

  He toppled forward and plunged into the pool. The grease from his bodyfloated up, and made a scum on the surface.

  Then I broke off the arrow and pulled it out of my arm, putting thepieces in my pocket. The water cleared, and I could see him lying inthe cool blue depths, his eyes staring, his mouth open, and a littledark eddy about his forehead.