CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.
A BIT OF BLUE SKY.
The task of getting the mules together was simple enough, the irritablebeasts making their usual objections, but following their old leaderSkeeter quietly enough in spite of the bell not being in use; and in ashort time they were trudging along with their loads down the steepslope till the gulch was reached, and Chris came after them with theponies, 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 offand leaving you."
"And I don't like you to go, Mr Bourne," said Chris, holding out hishand, 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 themules file away.
"Look at that," said Chris, as he noted that his charge displayed nodesire to follow the mules. "Why, if that old Skeeter isn't actuallysneering 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 themule-train from sight, and then Chris mounted and rode towards thepointed rock close to which the spring gurgled out of the rock. Here hetook the precaution of drinking deeply himself before letting the ponieshave their fill of the refreshing water, after which they began grazingin 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 inlistening; but no reports reached his ears, and he began thinking of thechange from the wild excitement and risk of his position by the barriera short time before, to the silence and grandeur of the deeply-cut riftin which he now stood. For gloomy and forbidding as the place looked bynight, even awful in its black solemnity, it was striking enough now inits effects of brilliant sunshine and shade to make the boy think it wasone 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 theponies.
He did not say what was a pity, for the sharp crack of a rifle broughthim 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 wasany more fighting on the way.
Another sharp crack, and Chris's excitement increased, as he firstlooked anxiously at his charges to see if they were startled by thefiring.
But the ponies did not even lift their heads, but went on browsing uponthe green shoots near the spring, while the boy involuntarily draggedhis rifle round, ready to throw the sling over his head if the needsprang up for its use.
But there was evidently no immediate danger, for quite an hour passedbefore there was another shot fired to raise the echoes, and this provedto be single.
A longer period elapsed before anything more occurred, and twice as longa time passed before there was another.
"It's just as they said," thought Chris--"a shot or two, just to showthe redskins that we're on the alert."
It was about this time that Chris fancied that the faintness from whichhe suffered was due to the want of food, and opening his wallet he tookout a piece of damper, to find that it ate very sweet with nothing but afew handfuls of water to wash it down.
By the time this was finished the sun had sunk far below the rocks onhis left, and the dreamy, restful state into which the boy had beenfalling passed away. For the thoughts that came fast now were beginningto grow troublous. It would not be long before it was night, and withthe darkness an exciting time would arrive. Chris thought that theIndians would not wait long before they attacked, and a great anxietynow oppressed him. Would his father think of this and be prepared, orwould he wait too long, and then--
It was too horrible to think of. Chris all through that afternoon hadbeen suffering from the effect of his exertions, and had sunk into arestful state a long way on to the border which divides wakefulness fromsleep; but with the coming of darkness his brain had become active to apainful degree, and but for the stringent orders he had received to beprepared and wait with the ponies, he would have gone forward, soughthis father, and told him of his fears.
"He's sure to know better than I do," cried the boy at last, to comforthimself, but with very poor effect, as he kept his watch till thedarkness had seemed to settle down like a flood in the gulch, the ponieshad become invisible, and the sky had turned to a dark purple with a fewstars dotting it here and there.
Half-an-hour now passed, and then the boy's agonised tension was brokenby three shots ringing out almost together.
"A volley!" he said aloud, and the words had hardly passed his lipsbefore there was a repetition of the reports.
"The other three barrels!" he cried excitedly, and then, speaking as ifthose of whom he thought were close at hand, "Load, load, load!" hepanted. "Oh, quick, quick! They're coming on!"
He waited again, but there was not a sound, and half-an-hour seemed tohave passed, during which his busy brain invented a host of horrors,chief among which was that in which he pictured to himself the Indiansstealing up to the defenders of the barrier, knife in hand, to springupon them and massacre all before they could fire another shot in theirdefence.
So horrible became the silence at last that Chris felt that if it lastedmuch longer he must mount his mustang and ride forward to learn theworst.
"Even if they kill me," he muttered, and he mentally saw himself fallingbeneath the enemy's blows.
But in response to a desperate effort to recall his duty those thoughtsgrew dull and distant, and straining his eyes to gaze into the darknesshe obeyed a sudden impulse to slip the ponies' bridles into theirmouths, fasten a strap or two, and then tighten the saddle-girths, theanimals submitting patiently enough, and allowing themselves to beplaced in readiness for a start.
"I can't do anything more," he said to himself. "Oh, how terriblydark!"
_Pst_! from close at hand, so close to him that the boy started as if hehad been stung.
"Father!" he whispered.
"Good lad. Not a word. Are the ponies saddled and bridled?"
"Yes, father."
"Right. Now, Griggs--Wilton; take two each, and lead on. Walk withthem for the present, and as quietly as you can go. We'll follow closebehind."
No further words were spoken, but there was the sound of hoofs passingover the stony bottom of the gulch, and the next minute Chris and hisfather, each leading his pony, were walking together side by side, theanimals stepping instinctively in the footprints of those in front, and,saving for the faint sound of tramping, the silence seemed to the boyperfectly awful.
At last Chris could keep back a question no longer.
"The firing, father--I heard two volleys. Were the savages coming on?"
"No, but we treated them as if they were, just to show them that we werewaiting for an attack, and then came on to join you at once. Now, nomore talking; I want to listen till they announce that they are there."
"Will they?" whispered Chris.
"They'll either attack with one of their savage yells, or else give onein their rage when they find that we are gone. That will be the signalfor us to mount and ride for our lives. Indians are swift of foot,boy."
It seemed an hour, during which every ear was on the strain, butprobably it was not a fourth of that time, before the fierce yell of thesavages was heard; but it only reached the fugitives as a faint whisper,followed by another.
Fortunately the retiring party had reached where the gulch had openedout, and quite a broad band of brilliant stars was spread overhead fromrock-wall to rock-wall, giving sufficient light for the ponies to followone another in Indian file at a good round trot, which was kept up hourafter hour, with intervals of walking and the indulgence now in a littleconversation regarding the distance ahead of the mule-train or thepossibility of its being missed.
But Griggs was positive.
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"No," he said, "we can't have over-run them."
"But have they turned off somewhere? I don't remember any side valley,but we may have passed one."
"No, we mayn't, sir," said Griggs coolly. "We don't know it--at least,I don't suppose you did, for I fancy I do--but if the mules had turnedoff anywhere our clever mustangs would have done the same. They've beenfollowing the mules' trail ever since we started."
"What! Impossible in this darkness."
"Think so, sir? Well, suppose you wait and see."
There was silence for awhile, before the doctor rode to the front againto where Chris was now beside Griggs.
"We have heard nothing of the enemy," he said.
"No, sir. I've listened till it has given me a feeling like toothache."
"Do you think they are on our trail?"
"Ah, there I can't say anything, sir, only that they may be. But ifthey are, they're coming on at a regular crawl; I am sure of that."
"How can you be sure?" said the doctor wonderingly.
"Because they'll be, as Indians mostly are when they can't see theirquarry, horribly suspicious of being led into an ambush."
"They did not seem so when they followed you."
"No; they could see me, and they forgot to be in doubt in the heat ofthe pursuit. But on a night like this, and after the way in which wehave shot them down, they are bound to feel their way step by step ifthey follow at all. Most likely they'll wait till morning, when they'llpick up our trail."
"And then?"
"Come on as fast as they can run, sir. They won't ride."
Griggs finished off with a loud chuckle. "Say, Chris," he added, "won'tthey be mad at not being able to get out their ponies!"
"I suppose so," said Chris.
"But there's a good side to everything. It'll be grand for the poorbeasts. They're ridden nearly to death; now they'll have a good restwith plenty of fine pasture."
"But about to-morrow, Griggs?" said Chris.
"What about to-morrow?"
"The Indians may follow us and overtake us on foot."
"Well, if they do, they do, my lad, and at the very worst they maycapture some of our stores. But perhaps not. I don't like being abrute to a dumb beast, but if I'm driven to it I may have to be a bithard to some of those mules. They can go so fast that no Indian cancatch them--if they like."
"Yes?"
"Well, as a rule they don't like."
"That's the worst of it," said Chris.
"Yes, but this time they've got to like; and I know how to make them."
Daybreak at last, and with that dawn all doubts about the mule-convoywere at an end, for the first streaks of dawn showed them about a mileahead, trudging steadily along, while no broadening of the day, not eventhe rising of the sun, revealed that for which a most anxious lookoutwas kept, namely, so many dark dots to indicate that the Indians were ontheir trail.
"I say they won't come now," said Griggs decisively. "We'll halt, sir,at the first water, and have a good rest and feed."
"Will it be safe?" said the doctor.
"We must chance that, sir, for the sake of making horse, mule, man andboy fit for what more he has to do."
"Well, perhaps so."
"It won't be losing time, and the mules and horses have done a goodspell of work."
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