Chapter XI: At Bay!

Tobe Castor led the way at a rapid pace, his tall form making some fairly wonderful leaps, doubling up in order to carry his long legs clear of the dense weeds and shrubs. At any other time his queer antics would have provoked a smile from the spectators, but now they were entirely too much concerned about their own safety to indulge in such demonstrations.

Behind them, at less than a half-mile's distance, were a score of bloodthirsty demons, yelling and whooping in eager exultation, as though their hands were already upon the coveted scalps, and all resistance was over. This knowledge, then, was not the most favorable for awakening a sense of the ludicrous, and the only idea his great bounds called forth was a desire to keep pace with him.

More than once the old scout was forced to slacken his pace, so as to avoid distancing the jaded horses, and an uneasy light filled his eyes as he noted how rapidly the savages were coming up with them, lessening the intervening distance with every bound. And yet not more than one-half the distance to the hill had been covered.

"Make haste, Ed--dog-on it, man, _put_ the critters down to it!" he hissed, impatiently, at one of these slackenings. "Use your knife fer a spur."

"Where are you going? They're overtaking us fast!" apprehensively cried the old settler, glancing backward over his shoulder.

"To the hill yander--ef they let us. Use the knife, I tell ye--ef you don't, we're goners!"

Under the impulse of this novel spur, the horses dashed forward with considerably-augmented speed, and now the hills loomed up quite near. But so were the red-skins, who now began sending their compliments after the fugitives, in the shape of sundry leaden bullets, but as the Indians feared to pause in order to secure a good aim, lest the fugitives should thus be able to distance them, there was little to dread save from some random missile.

Tobe Castor then cried out:

"Foller right on through the openin' thar; then turn to your left, right sharp."

As he uttered these words, the old scout dashed ahead at an astonishing rate of speed, and entered a narrow defile or pass, that here cut through the range of hills. As his comrades could see, he turned to the left, as he had directed them to do.

With anxiously-beating hearts, the fugitives dashed through the pass, and then, guided by a loud cry in the voice of their friend, turned to the left and reached the spot where he was standing.

"'Light--quicker'n thunder! You wimmen run into them bushes thar, an' lay close. Ed, you an' Jack stan' by me. We'll sicken the imps fer good, this time!" hurriedly muttered the scout, as he lifted Jennie Stevens from his horse's back; then striking the animal violently with his hand, it dashed off at full speed along the hill's foot.

The other two women leaped to the ground, as did Wilson, who secured the bundle of provisions, half-unconsciously. And this move was completed none too soon, for the next moment the yelling savages sprung into view through the pass, brandishing their weapons like mad.

"Now--gi' them your rifles, an' then fall back to the bresh yander. Ef they foller, let 'em hev your 'volvers," cried Tobe Castor, as his long, heavy rifle uprose to a level.

The Indians paused abruptly, uttering cries of wondering dismay. Why this bold stand upon the part of the fugitives, and where were the women who had so lately been with them? Could they still be fleeing upon the horses, whose rapidly-retreating hoof-strokes could still be distinguished?

"_Now!_" hissed Castor, and the three rifles spoke.

Two of the enemy went down without a struggle; a third reeled back with an arm swinging helplessly at his side. But neither of them was the renegade; he had not yet put in an appearance.

"Now drap back to the bresh, boys," and Tobe coolly retreated.

Just then Dusky Dick sprung into view, and with a wild yell, urged his men on. As the borderers fell back, the Sioux dashed ahead, discharging a few arrows; their firearms had all been long since emptied.

"Gi' them some more," coolly muttered Tobe, as he drew a heavy revolver, "Colt's Army," carrying a half-ounce ball with the range and force of a rifle.

And now quick and vicious the reports ring out from the three men standing there at bay. Chamber after chamber was discharged with fair effect.

It was not in Indian nature to stand this long, more especially as they had not the means of returning the compliment. Dusky Dick was one of the first to fall, and then, missing his voice, his men retreated to the entrance of the gap, concealing themselves as best they could behind the numerous bowlders that there skirted the prairie.

"Into the bresh an' load up, boys," said Castor, as he coolly leveled his second pistol at a wounded red-skin, who was slowly crawling away from the spot of death.

The revolver cracked, and the Indian made no further motion. Then, with a grim smile, the old scout also entered the bushes.

A most welcome surprise here awaited the fugitives, with the exception of Castor. The mouth of a cave was revealed behind the bushes, and into it the women had already made their way.

This, then, was why Castor had made what had seemed, at the time, a suicidal move, in not taking to the timber _motte_, and Wilson now expressed his regret at having spoken so harshly upon that occasion.

"'Taint no matter, Ed. I don't blame you, for it _did_ look a lettle queer. But it was our on'y chaince, ye see. They'd 'a' cabbidged us thar, easy; but in here we kin hold our own ontel they starve us out. This is whar Fred 'n' me killed the b'ar this spring--'member, don't ye?"

"Yes, but--what's the matter now?"

Castor had turned around to peer through the bushes while speaking, and then with a bitter curse of angry chagrin he leveled his pistol and fired. Another curse broke from his lips, as he half-parted the bushes, as though he would have sprung forth.

"What is it--are they coming again?" and the two men pressed forward.

"No--he's gone, the pesky imp! He was a-playin' 'possum all the time, I do r'ailly b'lieve! Don't b'lieve he was tetched ary time!"

"Who--what do you mean?"

"Why, Dusky Dick, _in_ co'se. He's gone. I see'd him jest as he was a-stealin' out o' sight. I sent a snap-shot at the cuss, but didn't tech him. I spotted him in the fust rush, but he must 'a' dodged it, an' then tumbled down to make us b'lieve he was dead," somewhat incoherently added Castor, as he once more resumed loading his firearms.

Though greatly chagrined, the borderers completed re-charging their weapons, without further comment; meanwhile keeping a close watch upon the open ground around the mouth of the defile. They felt assured that their foes were still near, although concealed from sight, and that they would not abandon the hunt without a desperate effort to avenge the death of their comrades, several of whose bodies still lay out in full view, stark and ghastly.

"What do you think they'll do next, Tobe?" queried Wilson, dubiously.

"Mebbe make a rush--but I don't think it. They've hed too good a taste o' our shooters fer thet. We must look out fer tricks, now; they'll pro'bly try sarcumvention fust. Mebbe try to smoke us out."

"But can they _do_ it?"

"Not bad, they cain't. Jest step inside thar, an' you'll see. I ain't so pesky green as to run in a hole thet'd be stopped up like _thet_," chuckled the old ranger, grimly.

Wilson stooped low down and entered the rude entrance of the cave, but it soon enlarged sufficiently to admit of his standing erect, and gazed curiously around him. It was dimly lighted, but sufficiently so for him to discern the rocky sides and roof.

It was small; not twenty feet in diameter at the most, and of a rude circular form. The roof was arched; jagged and uneven, composed mainly of rock. From several points Wilson could detect a lighter ray than common, and he knew that there were numerous crevices leading to the outer world, by which the fresh air could gain entrance, although so crooked that no use could be made of them to gain a shot at those within. Thus it would be an utter impossibility for the cave to be filled completely with smoke, or even sufficient to smother the inmates.

The three women were huddling together upon the rocky floor, at the further extremity of the den, trembling with apprehension. Wilson approached them, and tried to relieve their fears by repeating the assurances of Tobe Castor. At this they brightened up a little, but only temporarily.

A low whistle from Castor now drew Wilson to the entrance, where he was cautioned to silence by a finger warningly upheld by the old scout. Listening intently, the settler fancied he could hear the sounds of cautious footsteps overhead.

Nothing was to be seen upon the plain beyond, save the dead savages. All was quiet at the entrance of the defile, but still the besieged knew that trouble was brewing. And they nerved themselves to meet it as best they could.

"Ready, boys," muttered Tobe, drawing back a little, until beneath the projecting shelf. "They're comin' now!"

And the next moment confirmed his assertion, for with loud yells several dark figures sprung down from the ledge, alighting in the midst of the bushes. Then, ere they could recover themselves, the affray began.

The pale-faces had the advantage of a dark background, while their foes were quite plainly revealed, and as the revolvers began to play rapidly, wild yells of rage and death agony told how true was their aim.

And then, from the prairie beyond, came the sounds of rushing feet, and the shrill war-whoop of the savage Sioux, telling of a simultaneous onset, deadly and determined.