Part 24 (2/2)
”You may be quite sure,” returned d.i.c.k, with suppressed emotion, ”that no Redskin shall cross this threshold as long as we three men have a spark o' life left.”
A sweet though pitiful smile lighted up Mary's pale face for a moment, as she replied that she was quite sure of that, in a tone which caused Darvall's heart to expand, so that his ribs seemed unable to contain it, while he experienced a sensation of being stronger than Samson and bigger than Goliath!
”And I suppose,” continued d.i.c.k, ”that the troops won't be long of coming. Is the man--what's his name, Humpy Ben--trustworthy?”
”Trustworthy!” exclaimed the maiden, with a flush of enthusiasm; ”there is not a more trustworthy man on this side of the Rocky mountains, or the other side either, I am quite sure.”
Poor Darvall's heart seemed suddenly to find plenty of room within the ribs at that moment, and his truthful visage must have become something of an index to his state of mind; for, to his surprise, Mary laughed.
”It seems to me so funny,” she continued, ”to hear any one ask if Hunky--not Humpy--Ben is to be trusted.”
”Is he, then, such a splendid young fellow!” asked the seaman, with just the slightest touch of bitterness in his tone, for he felt as if a rock something like Gibraltar had been laid on his heart.
”Well, he's not exactly young,” answered Mary, with a peculiar expression that made her questioner feel still more uncomfortable, ”yet he is scarcely middle-aged, but he certainly _is_ the most splendid fellow on the frontier; and he saved my life once.”
”Indeed! how was that?”
”Well, it was this way. I had been paying a short visit to his wife, who lives on the other side of the--”
”Come along, Darvall,” cried Roaring Bull at that moment. ”The moon's about down, an' we'll have to take our stations. We shall defend the outworks first to check them a bit and put off some time, then scurry into the house and be ready for them when they try to clear the fence.
Follow me. Out wi' the lights, girls, and away to your posts.”
”I'll hear the end of your story another time, Miss Mary,” said d.i.c.k, looking over his shoulder and following his host and Crux to the outer door.
The seaman was conscious of a faint suspicion that Mary was wrestling with another laugh as he went off to defend the outworks, but he also, happily, felt that the Rock of Gibraltar had been removed from his heart!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
DEFENCE OF THE RANCH OF ROARING BULL.
Every light and every spark of fire had been extinguished in the ranch of Roaring Bull when its defenders issued from its doorway. They were armed to the teeth, and glided across the yard to the fence or stockade that enclosed the buildings, leaving the door slightly open so as to be ready for speedy retreat.
It had been arranged that, as there was a large open field without bush or tree in the rear of the ranch, they should leave that side undefended at first.
”They'll never come into the open as long as they can crawl up through the bush,” Jackson had said, while making his final dispositions.
”They're a'most sure to come up in front thinkin' we're all a-bed. Now, mind--don't stand still, boys, but walk along as ye fire, to give 'em the notion there's more of us. An' don't fire at nothin'. They'd think we was in a funk. An' when you hear me whistle get into the house as quick as a cotton-tail rabbit an' as sly as a snake.”
After the moon went down, everything in and around the ranch was as silent as the grave, save now and then the stamp of a hoof on the floor of a shed, where a number of horses stood saddled and bridled ready to mount at a moment's notice; for Jackson had made up his mind, if it came to the worst, to mount and make a bold dash with all his household through the midst of his foes, trusting to taking them by surprise and to his knowledge of the country for success.
For a long time, probably two hours, the three men stood at their posts motionless and silent; still there was no sign, either by sight or sound, of an enemy. The outline of the dark woods was barely visible against the black sky in front of each solitary watcher, and no moving thing could be distinguished in the open field behind either by Crux or Darvall, to each of whom the field was visible. Jackson guarded the front.
To d.i.c.k, unaccustomed as he was to such warfare, the situation was very trying, and might have told on his nerves severely if he had not been a man of iron mould; as it was, he had no nerves to speak of! But he was a man of lively imagination. More than fifty times within those two hours did he see a black form moving in the darkness that lay between him and the wood, and more than fifty times was his Winchester rifle raised to his shoulder; but as often did the caution ”don't fire at nothin'” rise to his memory.
The stockade was of peculiar construction, because its owner and maker was eccentric, and a mechanical genius. Not only were the pickets of which it was composed very strong and planted with just s.p.a.ce between to permit of firing, but there was a planking of strong boards, waist high, all round the bottom inside, which afforded some protection to defenders by concealing them when they stooped and changed position.
While matters were in this state outside, Mary Jackson and b.u.t.tercup were standing at an upper window just opposite the front gate, the latter with a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss of the last century, loaded with buckshot in her hands. Mary stood beside her sable domestic ready to direct her not as to how, but where and when, to use the ancient weapon.
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