The Peril Finders Part 112

"Yours, Griggs," cried the gentleman addressed. "It cannot be bettered.

You hear, Bourne?"

"Yes, I hear," was the reply; "but about the Indians. You will not escape them; they'll follow your trail."

"A bit," said Griggs, "while they're hot and wild after finding out that we've tricked them and gone; but I seem to think that they won't tramp far and leave their mustangs shut up in the valley. They'll come back to get them out, and that will take them days, even if they do it then; while if they can catch us after giving us about a week's law, I shall feel disposed to forgive them."

"We need not discuss the matter further, eh, Wilton?" said the doctor, turning to the young man, who had crouched close by, watching the spot where the Indians had disappeared.

"No. It's all cut and dried," said the young man quietly. "Be off, Bourne; you're going to have the best of it."

"That father isn't," said Ned sharply. "I don't think it's fair. Let Chris go. I want to stop and fight."

"Nay, nay, nay," said Griggs, smiling; "don't be greedy, lad. You've killed quite as many redskins to-day as is good for you. Be satisfied.

I dare say we can contrive a bit more fighting for you by and by."

"He may have all my share," said Chris, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his face. "I hate it. It's horrible."

"Obey orders," said the doctor, smiling. "Bourne, will you get off at once?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"And you, boys. I don't think any eyes can reach us, for we get no more arrows now; but all the same, I would not show. Crawl down to the bottom; you will be safe from all observation there, and you can rise and walk as soon as you are past the first curve. Till we meet again."

"Till we meet again," said Bourne and Ned in a breath, and they began to crawl down the far side of the gulch from where they had made their defence.

"As for you, my boy," continued the doctor, "you will bring the ponies down, following the mules, and coming to a halt at that spring by the big needle-like stone. There's some browsing for them there."

"Am I to stay with them, father?" said Chris.

"Of course, my boy, to be ready for starting at a moment's notice."

"But if you have to fight again?"

"We three will do our best."

"But only three, father?"

"Only three, but three men fighting with a knowledge that if things go against them they have ponies waiting for them, ready for a retreat.

Now, my boy. Duty. Be off. And mind, you'll take no notice of a few shots."

Chris made no reply. His rifle was already slung, and after one glance up the gulch towards the valley, without seeing a sign of the enemy, he began to back down the slope, creeping and crawling till it was safe to rise, and then hurrying after Bourne and Ned, overtaking them long before they could reach the entrance to the steep slope of the gully.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

A BIT OF BLUE SKY.

The task of getting the mules together was simple enough, the irritable beasts making their usual objections, but following their old leader Skeeter quietly enough in spite of the bell not being in use; and in a short time they were trudging along with their loads down the steep slope till the gulch was reached, and Chris came after them with the ponies, to bring his charge to a halt.

"Like to change places, Ned?" he said archly.

"No; I'm going to do my part without that."

"Good-bye, Chris, my lad," said Bourne sadly. "I don't like going off and leaving you."

"And I don't like you to go, Mr Bourne," said Chris, holding out his hand, which was warmly grasped. "Take care of yourself, Ned."

"Yes; and you," said the boy sadly.

The next minute Chris was standing by his mustang's head, watching the mules file away.

"Look at that," said Chris, as he noted that his charge displayed no desire to follow the mules. "Why, if that old Skeeter isn't actually sneering at my ponies! He deserves to be kicked for his conceit."

Ned turned to wave his hand just before a bend in the gulch hid the mule-train from sight, and then Chris mounted and rode towards the pointed rock close to which the spring gurgled out of the rock. Here he took the precaution of drinking deeply himself before letting the ponies have their fill of the refres.h.i.+ng water, after which they began grazing in their quiet, inoffensive way, leaving their guardian to his thoughts, which were many and troubled.

In the full expectation of hearing shots, Chris spent plenty of time in listening; but no reports reached his ears, and he began thinking of the change from the wild excitement and risk of his position by the barrier a short time before, to the silence and grandeur of the deeply-cut rift in which he now stood. For gloomy and forbidding as the place looked by night, even awful in its black solemnity, it was striking enough now in its effects of brilliant suns.h.i.+ne and shade to make the boy think it was one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen in his life.

"What a pity!" he muttered, as he listened to the _crop, crop_ of the ponies.

He did not say what was a pity, for the sharp crack of a rifle brought him out of his musings to gaze sharply in the direction of the barrier, far away from where he was waiting, and wondering now whether there was any more fighting on the way.

Another sharp crack, and Chris's excitement increased, as he first looked anxiously at his charges to see if they were startled by the firing.

But the ponies did not even lift their heads, but went on browsing upon the green shoots near the spring, while the boy involuntarily dragged his rifle round, ready to throw the sling over his head if the need sprang up for its use.

But there was evidently no immediate danger, for quite an hour pa.s.sed before there was another shot fired to raise the echoes, and this proved to be single.

A longer period elapsed before anything more occurred, and twice as long a time pa.s.sed before there was another.

"It's just as they said," thought Chris--"a shot or two, just to show the redskins that we're on the alert."

It was about this time that Chris fancied that the faintness from which he suffered was due to the want of food, and opening his wallet he took out a piece of damper, to find that it ate very sweet with nothing but a few handfuls of water to wash it down.

By the time this was finished the sun had sunk far below the rocks on his left, and the dreamy, restful state into which the boy had been falling pa.s.sed away. For the thoughts that came fast now were beginning to grow troublous. It would not be long before it was night, and with the darkness an exciting time would arrive. Chris thought that the Indians would not wait long before they attacked, and a great anxiety now oppressed him. Would his father think of this and be prepared, or would he wait too long, and then--

It was too horrible to think of. Chris all through that afternoon had been suffering from the effect of his exertions, and had sunk into a restful state a long way on to the border which divides wakefulness from sleep; but with the coming of darkness his brain had become active to a painful degree, and but for the stringent orders he had received to be prepared and wait with the ponies, he would have gone forward, sought his father, and told him of his fears.

"He's sure to know better than I do," cried the boy at last, to comfort himself, but with very poor effect, as he kept his watch till the darkness had seemed to settle down like a flood in the gulch, the ponies had become invisible, and the sky had turned to a dark purple with a few stars dotting it here and there.

Half-an-hour now pa.s.sed, and then the boy's agonised tension was broken by three shots ringing out almost together.

"A volley!" he said aloud, and the words had hardly pa.s.sed his lips before there was a repet.i.tion of the reports.

"The other three barrels!" he cried excitedly, and then, speaking as if those of whom he thought were close at hand, "Load, load, load!" he panted. "Oh, quick, quick! They're coming on!"

He waited again, but there was not a sound, and half-an-hour seemed to have pa.s.sed, during which his busy brain invented a host of horrors, chief among which was that in which he pictured to himself the Indians stealing up to the defenders of the barrier, knife in hand, to spring upon them and ma.s.sacre all before they could fire another shot in their defence.

So horrible became the silence at last that Chris felt that if it lasted much longer he must mount his mustang and ride forward to learn the worst.