Chapter XII: Exit Dusky Dick

It was a thrilling moment. Death stared the borderers full in the face, yet they did not flinch. To do so would be annihilation, and full well they knew that.

The enemy who had sprung down from above, had probably hoped to take them by surprise, being ignorant of the existence of the cave, and thus hold them at bay until the others could approach from the defile below, to deal the finishing stroke. But in this they had counted without their host, and the ready action of the borderers speedily foiled their calculations.

Scarcely had the savages regained their feet from the leap, than they were down again; this time for good. Three revolvers make quick work, especially when the targets are at barely more than arm's length, and held by desperate men, who are fighting for their own lives, as well as those of ones even more dear to them.

Thus before those coming from the defile could reach the bushes, the first portion of the drama was over. Four dead or disabled forms lay there; but where were the fugitive pale-faces? They speedily received the answer to this natural query.

"Back inside the hole, boys," uttered Tobe. "Back, or we're gone! We must keep 'em from gittin' inside."

And then at the mouth of the cave, but upon either side, where their bodies were partly shielded by the jagged rocks, although where a shot could be aimed without, if necessary, crouched the three men, sternly defiant. And thus, with tightly-compressed lips they awaited the assault, their rifles and half-empty pistols ready for instant use.

Thus they were, when the savages reached the bushes and parted them. Scarcely had the enemy time to note the mouth of the cave, thus laid bare, when a simultaneous report rung out, and three rifle-bullets tore their way through the living mass.

The Indians staggered and fell back involuntarily, but not until a second salute was given them. And then, despite the curses of Dusky Dick, the entire party of survivors turned and fled in dismay, not even pausing to remove their dead and dying.

The besieged, fearing a ruse, did not emerge, and then Dusky Dick once more succeeded in gaining cover in safety. And then while one kept guard, the other two borderers hastily recharged the weapons, that had stood them in such good stead.

For at least two hours after this signal repulse, not a sound betrayed the proximity of a foeman, but the old scout knew that the bushes screening the cave-entrance were under the range of keen eyes, whose owners would be only too glad of the chance to guide a bullet or an arrow into any one of the besieged who might chance to expose himself. And he was too wise to allow either of his comrades to commit an action that might change the whole situation.

Then there came an interruption. The sound of a human voice was heard; the voice of a white man, for the words were accented in a manner that no Indian could attain.

"Hellow thar, you Wilson!"

"It is Dusky Dick," muttered Tobe Castor.

"What can he want? Shall I answer him?"

"Yas--but don't show yourself. 'Twon't do no harm to hear what the cuss hes to say, as I knows on," slowly returned the scout.

"Hallo yourself! What is it you want with me, Dusky Dick?"

"I want to have a quiet talk with you, and see if we can't come to some sort o' tarms. Will I be safe if I come out thar? It's too fur away to talk from here."

"Tell him yas--ef he comes alone," said Tobe, in reply to the glance of Wilson.

"Yes. Come out, and if you act on the square, you sha'n't be hurt. But come alone, and mind you don't let any of your red-skinned devils try to crawl up on us, or you're a dead man. We can see all over from here."

After a few moment's silence, the renegade arose from behind his covert, and strode toward the cave-entrance. Although he bore weapons, they were held carelessly, as if not for use.

"Hold on thar, Mister Dusky Dick," called forth the old scout when the renegade was within a score yards. "Don't come no nearer. You hain't got the consumption, an' ken talk that fur, I reckon."

"Tobe Castor!" exclaimed Morgan, in a tone of uneasiness.

"Yas--it's old Tobe, fer shore. _You_ know 'im, I reckon," chuckled the scout, grimly, evidently pleased at this symptom of alarm.

"I did not know you were here, but it don't matter. Who is the head man among you? You or Wilson?"

"You kin talk to Ed, here. I'll sorter lis'en. Shoot off yer mouth now, lively, an' then travel. Your comp'ny ain't overly welcome to none on us. D'y' hear?"

"Then, Wilson," added Morgan, not noticing the insulting tones of Castor, "what're your terms? You must see there is no use in your trying to hold out against us any longer."

"Isn't there? Your men didn't seem to think so, a while since, anyhow," sneered the settler.

"But we have been reinforced since then. Sloan Young is here with his band, and--"

"You lie, Dusky Dick, durn ye. You'll never see Young ontel the devil hes his due. It's _thar_ you'll find him, fer I put a eend to his trapsein', this very night jest passed," retorted Castor.

What Dusky Dick's answer would have been, was never known, for at that moment a sharp report rung out from close behind Wilson, and then with a choking groan the doomed renegade swayed feebly to and fro for a moment, then sunk in a lifeless heap to the ground, the hot blood spouting from his left breast.

Quickly turning, the two borderers beheld the strangely convulsed features of their young comrade, John Stevens, as he glared out upon the dead man, the smoke still issuing from his rifle-muzzle. There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes that told he was half crazed.

The reproaches of the old scout died away upon his lips, for the young settler then sunk back, pale and breathless, his features strangely distorted. He was in a fit, probably brought on by the terrible trials of mind, added to the deed of vengeance he had just accomplished.

The Sioux uttered frightful yells of anger at the death of their chief, but they did not venture forth from their covert. They had already received a sufficiency of the pale-faces' favors at close quarters, and had evidently resolved to await the slower but more sure process of starvation.

It was some little time before John recovered from his convulsion, as there was no water to aid in his restoration, and then he lay back, only half-conscious, as weak as a child.

As the time wore on, the besieged began to suffer from want of water. Their hunger had been appeased, but it only seemed to increase their thirst. And yet there was not a single drop to be had.

Their prospects looked gloomy indeed, for if they began to suffer thus early what would they be forced to endure, were they closely besieged, as there seemed no doubt they would be? Even Castor became gloomy and despondent.

Thus the hours rolled by, without any demonstrations from the Sioux, save occasionally a rifle-shot that either flattened harmlessly outside, or else spent its force against the walls of the cave, without injury to the occupants.

But when the shades of night fell, the Indians built several fires upon the prairie, around the besieged, and though at some little distance, yet close enough to guard against their stealing forth from their retreat unobserved. They made no attempt to surprise the cave inmates, and well for them that they did not, for both Castor and Wilson kept unceasing watch, with weapons in readiness to repel the assault in case it should come.

But toward morning, when the gray light in the east gave warning of the coming sun, there arose a fearful tumult without, awakening the sleeping women, who uttered loud cries of affright. And for a moment the two sentinels were confused.

But the truth flashed upon their minds. They knew they were saved!

"Hooray! they're jest _more'n_ ketchin' it!" yelled Castor, as he sprung forth from the cave, uttering his wild war-cry; and then, closely followed by Wilson, he dashed into the thick of the _melee_.

They were indeed rescued, and by the aid of Fred Wilson. When that worthy so abruptly turned from the chase, he knew the plans of Tobe Castor.

He remembered the bear's den, and saw that the fugitives were heading directly toward it. Here he knew they could stand a pretty tough siege, and so he resolved to speed at once to the settlements, raise a force sufficient to rescue them, and return speedily.

He succeeded in reaching Hutchinson, where he told his story, and found no difficulty in raising a squad of men sufficient for his purpose. In half an hour after his arrival, he was on the back track, and by hurrying on at full speed, he arrived in time to surprise the Indians, the most of whom were sleeping.

The onslaught was deadly, and at most, but one or two of the war-party escaped to tell the tragic tale. Then the stray horses were hunted up, and upon these the women and John were placed, when the party retraced their steps to the settlement.

Dusky Dick had been somewhat premature in his attack, as the general uprising did not take place for two days after, and the result of that is familiar to all readers.

Tobe Castor, John Stevens and Fred Wilson did good service in the cause, and passed unharmed through the ordeal. They found and buried the remains of the unfortunate settler and his wife, near the ruins of their former home.

Within a year after the events recorded, there occurred a double wedding at St. Paul, in which Annie and Jennie, John and Fred were the principal actors, though an outsider would have thought Tobe Castor divided the honors pretty equally with them. That he "jest _more'n_ spread hisself," upon the occasion, we have his own word for.

THE END.

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