CHAPTER X
In Fearful Extremity
With the stealthy tread of a panther, Bert climbed over the improvisedrampart, and a few seconds later his form merged into the envelopingdarkness and was lost to the view of his anxious friends. They listenedwith straining ears for any sound of shot or struggle, but the deepsilence of a prairie night remained unbroken.
Bert pursued his way swiftly, but at the same time he exercised all theknowledge that a life of adventure had given him to detect with ear oreye the presence of a lurking enemy. He had traveled several hundredyards when suddenly he heard what seemed to be a stealthy rustling, offsomewhere to his right. He dropped to the ground like a flash, and,scarcely daring to breathe, peered through the velvety blackness,straining his eyes in an attempt to make out the cause of the sound.
For the space of perhaps a minute all was as still as the grave, and Berthad almost made up his mind that the noise must have been occasioned by asnake or lizard, when suddenly, within three feet of where he lay he madeout the form of an Indian, a mere black splotch against the slightlylighter background of the sky. The savage did not move, and Bert knewthat he had not been discovered as yet. But the dark form seemed tohave no intention of going any further, and Bert came to the conclusionthat the brave was one of the band that had been detailed to surround thedevoted little party of whites.
Bert knew that it would be impossible for him to move without beingdiscovered by the Indian, so he resolved on a swift, deadly attack as theonly way out of the dilemma.
Gathering his muscles for the spring he suddenly launched himself like athunderbolt at the Indian. With the same motion he drew his revolver andaimed a blow at the savage's head, for he knew that a single shot wouldgive the alarm and frustrate all his plans.
But the wily redskin was not to be so easily caught off his guard. Witha grunt of surprise he half turned to meet the attack, and the butt ofBert's revolver dealt him only a glancing blow. Before the savage had achance to shout a warning, however, Bert had grasped him by the throatwith one hand, while he rained blows from the clubbed revolver on himwith the other. The Indian made a desperate attempt to loose hisassailant's hold and secure the knife from his girdle, but Bert's attackwas too fierce and deadly. In a few seconds the struggling form of thebrave grew limp and fell to the earth.
Without giving him a moment's further notice, Bert started out over thedesert at a swift run, guided by his almost instinctive sense ofdirection. He ran quickly and lightly with the speed and silence of awolf, and he breathed a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving when he realizedthat he was clear of the besiegers.
In a short time he reached the line of newly laid rails that marked onemore stride of civilization into this far western country. He scrambledup the steep embankment, and was not long in locating a telegraph pole.He climbed this quickly and once securely seated in the crossbars madeready to send the message that meant life or death to himself and thelittle party back there by the over-turned stage coach, dependent on himfor their very lives.
He drew from a pocket a pair of cutting pliers that he had secured fromthe coach's toolbox, and donned a pair of thick leather gloves that hehad borrowed from the driver. With the pliers he severed the singletelegraph wire, and grasped the two ends in his gloved fingers.
"Now," he thought, "if there's no current in the wire everything willhave gone for nothing. But if there is----"
He brought the severed ends together, and was overjoyed to see a snappinglittle blue spark play about them.
"Great!" he shouted aloud, and then set himself to send the message. Hewas an expert telegrapher and knew the Morse code as well as he knew hisown name. Of course, he had no means of telling whether or not anybodywas receiving his sending, but had to go ahead on the chance that theywere.
"Attacked by Indians," he sent. "Near stage-coach trail--twenty mileseast of Helena. Send help, quick."
He repeated this message again and again, until he felt sure thatsomebody must have received it. Then he twisted the two ends of the wiretogether, and slid down the pole.
"Now to get back with Dick and Tom and the others," he thought. "It'sgoing to be no easy matter, either. I have an idea it's going to beharder to get in than it was to get out."
He retraced his course with the utmost caution, until he judged that hemust be nearing the Indian outposts. Then he dropped at full length onthe ground and commenced crawling forward at a snail's pace, pausingevery few yards to listen intently for any indication of danger. At onetime he heard a murmur of guttural voices at no great distance, andproceeded with redoubled caution until he left the sound behind.Gradually he worked himself along until he knew he could be at no greatdistance from his friends. The danger of being caught by the Indians nowseemed to be passed, but Bert realized that it would never do to approachhis party without giving warning of his coming, as the chances were theywould take him for an enemy and shoot before he could make himself knownto them.
For a time he was at a loss to think of some signal that would berecognized by those within the improvised fort, but at last had aninspiration. Softly he whistled a bar of one of the old college songs.There was no reply at first, but he repeated the refrain a little louderthis time, and was overjoyed to hear the tune taken up by a whistle thathe recognized as Tom's. He waited a few minutes, to give Tom time to warnthe others of his coming, and then ran swiftly forward until he reachedthe inclosure.
Dick and Tom almost hugged him in their joy at his safe return, and thenquestioned him anxiously as to whether he had sent the message.
"I got it through, all right," said Bert, "and I don't think there's muchdoubt that somebody received it. Now it's only a question of holding outuntil help comes."
"It'll have to come mighty soon," declared Buck, who had seemed muchsurprised at Bert's safe return; "at dawn or jest before is the time thevarmints will close in upon us."
The hours dragged on and, as Buck had predicted, just before dawn ahideous yell rent the air, and a shower of bullets whined over the headsof the besieged party.
They grasped their firearms and prepared for a desperate encounter. Butfor a few minutes after the outbreak all was silent as the grave, and inthe slight respite the first pale streaks of dawn appeared in the easternsky.
"Thank God for the light, anyway," exclaimed Dick fervently; "at leastwe'll be able to see what we're doing."
Before anybody could reply to this there was another shrill yell, andagainst the rapidly lightening sky the defenders could see a vague bodyof horsemen charging toward them.
"Shoot!" yelled Buck, suiting the action to the word. "Make every bullettell." Outside of the two passengers, who were unarmed and could dolittle to aid the defense, there were five men behind the ramparts whowere excellent marksmen. Dick's and Tom's revolvers barked viciously, andthe deadly rifles wielded by Bert and the stage driver made havoc in theranks of the attacking braves. Sam, the guard, wielded his heavy Coltswith the skill and sure aim of a veteran, and the Indians broke ranksunder the withering hail of bullets. They wheeled their horses off toeither side of the stoutly defended fortification and galloped out ofrange, leaving a number of still figures on the ground.
"First blood for us," shouted Bert exultantly. "I guess we gave them awarmer reception than they figured on."
"Yes, but they'll be back pretty soon," said Buck. "There's a hundred ofthem if there's one, and they would never dare face the tribe again ifthey let themselves be beaten by half a dozen 'pale faces'."
Nothing could have suited the three comrades better, for their fightingblood was aroused, and all thought of danger was swallowed up in theprimitive love of battle that is inherent in every man.
"Here they come," shouted Dick, and come they did, but more cautiouslythis time. They had learned their lesson, and realized how deadly wasthe white mans' aim. They hung low from the saddle, on the side farthestfrom the defenders, thus interposing the bodies of their horses asshields between themselves and the defenders.
; In this fashion they galloped and wheeled back and forth in front of thebreastworks, firing over and under their horses, and drawing ever alittle closer, a little closer, until they should close on the devotedlittle band of whites and annihilate them.
Bert's unerring rifle never failed of its mark, and whenever an Indianraised his head ever so little over his horse's back the Winchester spokeand one more still form was added to the many already strewed over theground. The revolvers barked steadily and terrible havoc was wroughtamong the ranks of the attacking redmen.
But now their savage blood was up, and death itself had lost its powerto daunt them. Slowly the circle about the besieged constricted, andsuddenly the attackers, at a given signal, abandoned their horsesand, springing to the ground, rushed forward, shooting and emittingblood-curdling yells as they ran.
"Stand together, boys," yelled Buck, "we'll stand back to back and fightit out to the bitter end."
Nobody had time to answer, but they did as he suggested. The Indians werenow close upon them, and with wild yells mounted the low embankment thathad hitherto protected the white men. Rifles were useless at this shortrange, and Bert and the stage driver clubbed theirs and met the firstsavages over the embankment with death-dealing blows from the clubbedweapons. The savages pressed forward so fiercely and in such numbers thatsoon even this became of no avail, and they had recourse to theirrevolvers. The six-shooters barked steady streams of fire, doing fearfulexecution among the packed ranks of the attacking redmen.
The Indians were now fighting chiefly with knives, and the defendersbegan to suffer, too. One of the passengers dropped to the ground undera wicked thrust from the knife of a giant Indian, who seemed to be theleader. Then the big redskin, encouraging his fierce followers by voiceand action, threw himself toward Dick, who happened to be nearest him.Dick had just fired the last shot from his revolver, and he had no timeto reload. As the Indian sprang at him Dick clubbed his revolver, andmade a terrific swing at the shaven head of his attacker. The savagedodged with the agility of a cat, and the blow merely glanced from hisshoulder. With a yell of exultation the Indian raised his sharp knife,still dripping with the blood of its last victim. But before the weaponcould descend, Bert's fist shot out like lightning, catching the redskina terrific blow under the chin. The Indian's head snapped back, and hewas almost lifted from the ground by the impact. Then he fell limply, andthe fight waged on over his unconscious form.
The attackers, instead of being daunted by the fall of their leader,seemed spurred to an even greater pitch of ferocity, and fought like verydemons. The whites, fighting silently and grimly, resolved to sell theirlives as dearly as might be, presented a solid front and battled with thegrim courage and ferocity of desperation. Bert and Dick and Tom fought asone unit, and again and again repelled the assaults of their swarmingenemies.
But they were battling against overwhelming odds, and the end could notbe far off. Sam, the guard, was down, whether dead or only wounded theydid not know. All of them were wounded, and Tom's left arm hung uselessat his side. They had no time to load their revolvers, and, with the lastshot fired, drew their sharp hunting knives and fought like corneredwildcats. Eyes bloodshot, the odor of blood and sweat in their nostrils,they time and again flung back the leaping, yelling hordes pressing in onthem.
But there is a limit to human endurance, and their arms were beginning toweaken, their aim to be less certain. Then suddenly the fierce attackwavered and weakened. To their dazed senses came the noise of rifleshots, and the sound of a bugle's strident note. Before they couldrealize that help had at last arrived the Indians had broken away andwith wild yells were making for their horses. A detachment of cavalry setout in pursuit, while the commanding officer and his staff rode over tothe exhausted defenders.
As they rode they looked wonderingly at the numbers of Indians scatteredover the bloodsoaked ground. They galloped up to where the defenders, orwhat remained of them, lay panting on the ground, ringed about by acircle of those who had fallen by their hands.
"Well, boys!" exclaimed the captain, "I guess we came just in the nick oftime. You were about at the last ditch, but from all the signs you musthave put up a corking fight."
Before any one could answer, the surgeon, who had accompanied therescuing party, arrived on the scene, and immediately took charge of thewounded men. One of the passengers was past all aid, and the other wasbadly wounded. The doctor shook his head when he examined the senselessbut still breathing form of the guard, but finally announced that he hada chance to recover. Among the three boys Tom's wounded arm was the mostserious injury sustained, although they had all suffered cuts and slashesand were weak from loss of blood.
By the time their wounds had been dressed and bandaged the first of thepursuing cavalry returned with the prisoners they had captured. An hourlater the last of them rode in, reporting that the braves who had escapedcapture had scattered to the four points of the compass, making furtherpursuit useless.
"Very well," said Captain Graham, their leader; "we'll return to Helenawith the prisoners. But you lads," he said, turning to the three friends,"where were you bound for when you were attacked?"
Bert told him, and the captain told off half a dozen troopers to escortthem to the ranch. "You deserve the highest praise for the plucky fightyou put up," he said, "and I don't want your lives put in jeopardy by anyof the redskins who may return to this neighborhood after we leave. Iimagine they've had all the fight taken out of them by this time,however, and they'll probably make a bee line for the reservation. Butit is best to be on the safe side, at all events."
The boys thanked him heartily for his timely aid, and then, each mountedon a trooper's horse, they and the escort set off in the direction of theranch, first shaking hands with Buck, the stage-coach driver.
"You're plucky lads," he exclaimed, wringing their hands, "and we all putup the scrap of our lives. I don't know about old Sam"--here a shadowpassed over his face--"but he's a tough old sinner, an' I reckon he'llpull through all right. I hope I'll see you lads again some time, I suredo."
It was with real regret that the friends parted from him, and more thanonce they turned in their saddles and waved their hats to him, until hissturdy figure was swallowed up in the distance.
Shortly after this they descried an approaching dust-cloud in thedistance, and the troopers, thinking it might be a new band of Indians orsome of the survivors of the dispersed one, unslung their rifles and madepreparations to give them a warm reception.
As the cloud drew nearer, however, figures began to emerge from it, andin a few minutes the boys were able to make out the familiar faces of theranch cowboys, headed by Mr. Melton. They were all armed to the teeth,and were spurring their horses along at a gallop.
Soon they were within hailing distance, and as the cowboys recognized thethree boys among the troopers they emitted joyful yells, and by way ofsalute many of them fired their revolvers in the air. Mr. Melton appearedmore overjoyed than anybody else, however, and as the two parties met anddrew rein he exclaimed:
"Thank the Lord you're safe! When your horses galloped in late last nightwithout you I feared the worst. Tell me what has happened."
The cowboys crowded around, and listened eagerly while Bert gave anaccount of the attack by the Indians and its result. When he hadfinished, but before anybody had time to say anything, the corporal, whocommanded the escort, broke in: "From the way he tells it," he said, "youmight imagine that it had been a good deal less of a fight than it was.But we counted over twenty dead redskins, besides a lot that were moreor less badly wounded. It must have been _some_ shindy, take it from me."
"I'm sure proud of you boys," exclaimed Mr. Melton, with glistening eyes;"but I'm not so much surprised, after all. I always knew you were gritclear through, anyhow."
"Oh, there was nothing very wonderful about it," disclaimed Bert. "We hadto fight, whether we wanted to or not. It wasn't a matter of choice."
"Well, we won't argue the matter," smiled Mr. Melton; "wh
at you need nowis food and rest and a little nursing. We'll ride back home just as soonas we can, where you'll get plenty of all three. I guess we won't need totrouble you any more," he continued, addressing the corporal commandingthe detachment; "there's enough of us here to hold our own in case of anattack, I think."
"I reckon so," said the corporal, sizing up the score or more of lean,square-jawed cowboys, "and in that case we might just as well return tocamp."
He took leave of the three comrades, who thanked him for his escort, andwith the troopers at his heels galloped off.
On the trip to the ranch the cowboys crowded around the boys, and pliedthem with innumerable questions, which they answered to the best of theirability. On their arrival they were turned over to motherly Mrs. Melton,who insisted on redressing their wounds, and then, after they had madea hearty meal, packed them off to bed.
"Gee, boys!" exclaimed the foreman, before the cowboys dispersed to theiralloted tasks, "those lads are sure _there_ when it comes to deliverin'the goods, ain't they? An' to think that once in a moment of besottedignorance I referred to them as 'tender-feet.' Why, it don't seem possiblethem boys can be Easterners at all. It seems like they jest _must_ 'a'been born west o' the Rockies."
As this was the highest eulogium any of them could think of, theyacquiesced in their foreman's words and dispersed to work.
Bert Wilson in the Rockies Page 10