Chapter VI: The End of the Fight

Before this there was confusion among the poor women and children and the others of the escaping party. They had seen the three warriors coming fast on in their wake, and they knew what it meant, for there was no such thing as mercy in the work that the men were prepared to do. At the same time, the women and the old men, and even the larger children, did not fall into a complete panic, but like the fighting animals that they might almost be said to be, they growled encouragement to one another, and made ready, when the final moment should come, to make a fierce defence. Nevertheless, it was evident that the three powerful fighters stood fair to work a dreadful slaughter among them, even if they did not finally kill every one.

Sure-dart came on like a running hound. It was wonderful how his bare feet flew. There was yet time to do something, he thought, alone though he was, for he could certainly make a diversion; and if the women and old men, as well as the larger children, did what they could, it might be possible to check the assailants. This would perhaps give time for Big-axe and the others to come up.

The Fishers looked back and saw Sure-dart, but as he was but one, and a boy at that, they did not pay any serious attention to him. They doubtless could not believe that he was up to anything desperate, however strange and wild his actions were. They were now almost near enough to throw their darts, and each took one from its sheath, and prepared.

But after all, their experience in this kind of warfare, owing to the small number of human beings there were in this little world of theirs, and the long peace between them and the Rock-people, had been too short to be informing, and they were now to find it out. They were to see what sort of stuff a savage mother, defending her children, was made of.

A few seconds more, and they were within easy casting distance, and they halted. The head of the little fleeing company was still strung out in flight, but the rear had stopped. This little group was made up of Scar-face, One-ear, Gentle-hand, two other women, four small children, and Hop-foot.

Sure-dart, never flagging for a moment, was now close at hand. He came on till he was almost within a spear-cast, and then sharply pulled up. The men had not wholly ceased to notice him, and now, after a little clicking back and forth, one of them wheeled about. The others did not stop, but drew back their arms and poised their darts.

Here was where the powerful and fearless mothers suddenly came to the fore. All of them broke out in a savage screech, sprang to one side, to where there was a shivered bowlder, caught up handfuls of the fragments, and hurled them in a shower at the surprised warriors. In the midst of it Hop-foot took a cool step forward, poised a dart, and let it go.

The two Fishers who were facing the party had not guarded themselves very carefully, thinking there was little danger, and the result was that one of them caught a smash from a stone that broke several of his teeth and nearly stunned him; the other was struck on the shin, and it hurt so that he lowered his dart and snarlingly caught the shin in his free hand. The third man was very busy, for he had rushed at Sure-dart; then the boy danced back a little out of range, waited, and as the man came on again, rushed suddenly almost into his face and flung his dart. The man, though powerful, was a little slow, and it seemed that he was not very nimble-witted. At any rate, the dart got in below his shield and struck deep into his thigh. He grunted with pain and fear, and brought up where he stood.

In this little interval the women and Hop-foot, greatly encouraged by their success, recklessly charged, and almost tumbled the two Fishers off their legs. They struck at them with clenched hands, kicked, and bit.

But this time they did not come out so well. One of the men struck his spear through the nearest woman, kicked another off her balance, and with a swinging blow of his fist landed Scar-face on her back. At almost the same instant the man whose teeth had been knocked out rallied, and with a smash of his stone hatchet brained poor Gentle-hand.

There was now a little pause in the fight. The two Fishers at what might be called the front looked around and saw what had happened. It was clear that they were not making much headway, notwithstanding the sudden turn they had given the fight, and that their situation was growing serious. Looking still farther to the rear, to where the general fight was still going on, they saw that Big-axe and his men were crowding back such Fishers as had come in on this side. In fact, as they were looking, the pack was broken. Five or six Fishers staggered back, and three of the Rock-warriors broke through. The three were Big-axe, Bull-head, and Stone-arm.

Then the two made a quick decision. Their chief’s plan had failed, and they themselves were already as good as between two fires. They clicked something back and forth, and made such a headlong rush that it carried them through the broken ranks in front, and with smashes right and left with their axes they cleared a path through such slow or feeble ones as were in their way, and slapped off at full speed down the ridge path. Apparently without the slightest compunction they left the disabled man to shift for himself.

His fate did not lag. He pluckily braced himself and let go with his longest spear at Sure-dart, but by a close shave missed. The boy had parted with his shield, but for that very reason was on the alert, and with his great quickness he managed to duck below the track of the spear. It raked through the hair on the top of his head, however. This was the last of the really brave Fisher. Hop-foot ran up from behind and lodged a dart fairly between his shoulders, and at almost the same instant an old man who had run back from the company ahead struck him on the temple with a stone. He was down and finished in a twinkling.

It was clear by this time that Big-axe and his men had made good their break through the encircling lines, and were holding the main body of the Fishers in check. Less than half a minute more, and they were retreating in compact fighting order along the ridge.

The Fishers did not follow. They were still well in the lead as to numbers, but they had lost the advantage of position, and had moreover lost a disheartening number of men. Long-spear, still as shrewd and far-sighted as ever, gave one of his signal yells, and the battle was for the time over. Long-spear himself was bleeding from a cut in the shoulder, and his wind was about gone. That time when he and Big-axe came together he thrust at the Rock chief, but the thrust was met on the shield, and a return blow of the chief’s axe all but brought him down. The Fisher’s shield was cut asunder, and the slash would probably have gone home even then but that Big-axe slipped. The next moment other Fishers and Rock-people were crowding between, and then Big-axe turned again toward the rear. It was just here that he and his champions broke through, as Sure-dart and the others saw, and then fell back uninterrupted down the ridge and toward their friends.

It was a joyful and yet a sad time when the chief and the other fighters at last came up. The chief’s wife and the woman who had been thrust through with the spear were dead, and the woman who had been kicked, and two old men, were seriously hurt. Scar-face was a little sore where the man’s fist had struck her, but beyond that she was merely a trifle confused and shaken. These were not heavy losses, measured in numbers, but to Big-axe and the husband of the woman who had been speared they were severe enough.

For a few moments the two stricken men stood silent, and then, in spite of their training and the stolidity of their natures, the tears started.

But after a little they made an effort and controlled themselves. As soon as a rough, long litter could be put together, the two bodies were hoisted upon it, and the company once more moved on. The injured ones were carried by some of the warriors.

The others of the rescued party, stimulated by the relief from the dreadful suspense and by the presence of the fighting men, seemed to find new strength and energy, and the whole company pushed along at a relatively fast pace.

The two Fishers who had fled along the ridge (this term “ridge” is used in a very restricted sense, as it applies merely to the little, natural causeway above the swamp) were now out of sight, but nobody could say where they had gone. In the general excitement they had been forgotten. It was probable that they had kept on till they came to one of the farther clumps of trees, and where also were some small, diverging mounds and ridges, and had there swung off, intending to make a detour by the way of the more open morass, and so back to their friends. This of course meant a risk, considering the dangerous reptiles and other wild creatures, but it was nothing like the risk of coming nearer their human enemies. That meant instant death as the mildest thing that could be imagined.

Big-axe and his party had now but a short distance farther to go, and in a few minutes they reached the little tree-island.

It was like a stopping-place, or station, along the road formed by the ridge. It was merely a roundish clump of trees, with a few of the whitish bowlders of the region tumbled along its inward border, and rising near the centre. Such soil as there was showed black and swampy, and great roots, uncomfortably suggesting snakes, crowded thickly from its surface. Vines and creepers of many kinds ran everywhere, and in places were so interlaced among the trees that they made a kind of natural hedge. Certainly, unattractive as it was, and not suggesting wholesomeness, it was yet the very place for their purpose. It was a little, natural fort where they could rest and rally, and from which they could conveniently push on to their final and better refuge.

Before this, even in their haste, it had come out who had been killed in the general battle. Eager questions had been answered, and at the end there was renewed sorrowing. Fourteen of the Rock-people were dead, and three-fourths of all who had come back were more or less wounded. These wounds, however, were in few cases disabling, even after they should have stiffened. Not all of those who had been killed died of the first wounds, for several were mercifully despatched by their friends. If left behind they would certainly have been killed in a more painful way, and it was the practical reasoning of their comrades that this must be prevented. Often the wounded men themselves had asked the favor of a friendly blow of the axe. It could be delivered on the temple, or at the base of the brain, and all would be over.

This left the entire fighting party nineteen strong, including the slightly wounded. The Fishers, it was thought--and this was a grain of comfort--had suffered still more; their loss was believed to exceed twenty. This, however, was thought to leave them still over forty strong.

The Fishers had now left the battlefield, or at least, none were in sight. It was thought that they had really gone, for some small, toothed birds of the buzzard family were settling down there, and these creatures were very shy of living human beings.

At this point some of the women and other relatives of the fallen men wanted to go back, desiring to recover their friends’ bodies; but to this Big-axe would not consent.

“The Fishers are full of tricks,” he said, “and we don’t know what they may be up to now. I think they are gone, but perhaps they have merely withdrawn into hiding. They may have gone far enough to satisfy the birds, but yet not so far but that they could rush out and overtake any of us.”

There was a little murmuring, and at first it seemed as if a few of the men, moved by the grief of the women, or troubled on their own account, would persist, but finally they thought better of it, and gave in. Like our American Indians, the people of the tribe were in a sense independent of the chief, though supposed to obey him pretty exactly when engaged in war, or when banded to hunt dangerous wild creatures; at other times he rather suggested than commanded, and each family was a little despotism of its own, the father, or oldest fighting man, being the ruler. However, in the absence of exact law, much depended on the force and determination of the chief, and in the present case few if any of the men were disposed to quibble with Big-axe on any fine point of authority.

As soon as this matter was settled Big-axe sent out Sure-dart as a picket guard, and set everybody else who was able to work at strengthening the defences. Rocks were piled up so as to help out the bit of natural wall, and bushes were cut down and made into a kind of wattle breastwork.

When all this was done they were in pretty good general shape. They were not afraid of another attack, at least, not at once, and they were fairly well provided with food and drink. Besides some skins of water that they had brought with them, some of the men knew of a fairly convenient spring. It was in a hollow at the beginning of the higher ground just beyond the swamp. As that was on the side away from the enemy it was decided to take the small risk of sending a few men there. This was done, and enough water was brought to last, with economy, several hours. Of course, under that hot sun, more than an ordinary amount was needed.

At sunset, according to the custom of the tribe, they buried their dead. There was hardly anything of what we should call a ceremony, though the women, as has been customary in our times, among certain European peoples, joined in a kind of wailing dirge. This was done as the corpses were wrapped in their mantles and laid in the graves.

When darkness finally came on the chief stationed the guards, and the rest of the camp picked out such places as were dryest and otherwise most desirable, and lay down. The chief intended to sleep, as the saying is, with one eye open, but he knew that he must have at least a little rest, or he should collapse. The strain upon both mind and body had been tremendous, and he was besides somewhat lame and bruised.

Sure-dart, at his own request, had been appointed one of the videttes. He was certain that he could not sleep, and he preferred to have something definite to do, rather than to be stowed away under the stuffy trees, listening for alarming things, and longing for daylight. As a kind of mark of honor, seeing how well he had fought, and otherwise behaved, and also because he was uncommonly trustworthy, the chief stationed him at the farthest and most exposed point. This was on the little ridge, or causeway, a hundred paces toward the rear.

It was pretty dark, even in the open, when Sure-dart picked up his weapons and slipped away. It still lacked some hours of moonrise, and out in the marsh a white, steamy fog was beginning to rise. This was confusing the outlines of some things, and hiding others, so that bits of the eye-range lost their naturalness, and took on a touch of disturbing weirdness.

But though all this made anything but a cheerful beginning, the boy kept sturdily on till he thought he had covered the expected distance. Here the little ridge was a bit higher than just at the rear or ahead, and was therefore desirable for his purpose. He could get something of a view around when once the moon should be up.

He put down his shield, for he thought that he could easily pick it up in time if he should need it, and pulled his light cloak over his shoulders. It was far from cold, and, in fact, was stickily and unpleasantly warm; but all kinds of biting and stinging insects were abroad, and they had begun to prick their way even through his tough and seasoned skin. Knowing that the best way to guard against any chance fit of sleepiness was to keep in motion, he picked out a space for a beat, and began to pace slowly up and down.

By this time the fog had thickened to an extent that cut off all but near objects, and for the present he had only the various night noises--the notes of the wild creatures, big and little--for company. Nevertheless, these alone gave him enough to listen to, and at times more than enough, for among the sounds were some that had decidedly unpleasant suggestions. Among the whistling night-birds’ screams, droning, humming, and occasional splashing and wallowing, he could catch a sharp hiss, or perhaps a kind of smacking noise, and he knew that the first meant either a snake, or one of the uncanny snake-lizards, and that the other stood for one of the greater lizard-beasts, such as a great stalker, or a thunder-beast. Both of these were vegetable feeders, and were not classed with the savage creatures, yet at times they had been found extremely dangerous. If come upon suddenly, or if their young were with them, and now and then as if moved by some fit of crazy rage, they had been known to make a headlong attack, and to follow it up with the savage pertinacity of the death-beast himself. In that case their great bulk (for the thunder-beast was the greatest of all land creatures known then or since) and accompanying strength left no chance for the poor human creature except a quick dart into some cave or, if there was time, flight up a large and strong tree. It needed to be both large and strong, or else the thunder-beast (this was the name given him by the Rock-people, but we call him the atlantosaurus), if he happened to be the pursuer, would pull it down. And the man needed to perch high, also, for the thunder-beast could stretch up, standing on his hind legs, and put his claws at a mark eighty feet from the ground!

There was still another noise that the boy distinguished from the others, and that he did not fancy. This one was not on the ground, but in the air, though through the obscurity he could not make out a sign of the creature itself. It was a whirring sound, such as might be made by a night hawk, but vastly louder. He knew that it came from the wings of a monstrous bat-like creature, yet not a bat, but a species of lizard, with wings that spanned twenty feet, and a toothed head on a body as large as an ordinary deer hound’s. This creature, as he knew by unpleasant experience, sometimes paid a careless night-stroller, and still oftener a sleeper, an unexpected and most unwelcome visit. When urged on by hunger it had been known to flap down on a man, and before it could be fought off, to strike out one of his eyes, and tear a strip of flesh from his face. Ordinarily, however, it would not attack a grown person even in the night, but there was something about its horrible looks, and the thought that it might drop upon one, as it were from the skies, that made the whir of its unseen wings disagreeable and disconcerting.

But Sure-dart, in spite of everything,--sounds, the darkness, and all,--did not cower, and he did not retreat so much as a step from his post. Within the limits that he had set for his beat, he doggedly stalked up and down, his trained senses alert, and his sheathed darts ready at his hand.

The lonesome minutes went by, and at last the ghostly mist began to thin, or it seemed to do so, and things around began vaguely to come out. Sure-dart brightened and was glad, for this meant that the moon was rising.

He took a turn or two more, but as he was wheeling, at the lower end of his beat, something new caught his ear, and he stopped almost in his tracks and listened. He heard it again, and the seriousness and something more came back to his face. There was a reason.