Part 41 (1/2)
The next moment Dallas was stamping and kicking out the fire, with the result that the interior of the hut grew lighter.
”Don't, don't do that, Dal,” whispered Abel. ”You're right in the line of fire, too.”
As a proof that their position was being made more precarious a couple more shots were fired, the bullets buzzing across the interior.
”Must,” was the reply. ”There, the ashes will soon grow faint;” and in a few minutes the place was nearly black; but at the same time it was full of strangling wood-smoke which rose slowly towards the opening in the roof which formed their chimney.
Meanwhile shot after shot was fired through the door, and at every dull thud or tearing of the stout woodwork, the dog dashed about, snarling and barking furiously.
”Dal! Dal!” cried Abel pa.s.sionately; ”are we to stop here doing nothing?”
”Yes; we are not going to shoot at random. Wait a bit, and our time will come. Have you plenty of cartridges handy?”
”Yes; a pocketful.”
”Don't waste them, then. One will be sufficient to silence an enemy.
We must wing him--that will be sufficient. I say!”
”Yes, what?”
”Bob Tregelly would not knock at the door like this, would he?”
”Don't. I made sure it was he.”
The firing went on through the door, and in the darkness, which now grew profound, the besieged made out that the direction of the bullets was varied, for those which came through struck the wall in different places--high, low, and to right and left; and the result of this was that suddenly, in spite of Dallas's endeavours to keep the dog close to him in shelter, he escaped from him to bound about, barking savagely, and the next minute, as a couple of shots came through the door, he uttered a peculiar snarling snap, and threw himself with a heavy thud against the door.
”He has got it, Bel,” whispered Dallas. ”Here, Scruff! Scruff!”
The dog came to him, whining, and then uttered a dismal howl.
”Poor old chap! you must lick the place,” said Dallas. ”I'll see to it when I can get a light.”
”Badly wounded, Dal?” said Abel.
”Can't tell. No; not very bad, or he would have lain still. Has he come to you?”
”Yes,” said Abel, from the other side of the door; ”he has shoved his head against me.”
There was a pause then, and an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n full of horror.
”What is it?” anxiously.
”Ugh! The poor fellow's bleeding!”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
A DEATH SHRIEK.
”Wait a bit--wait a bit!” said Dallas through his teeth; ”we'll pay the cowardly brutes yet. Bel, it makes me feel like a savage. I could enjoy pulling the rope that was to hang them!”