Part 11 (1/2)
Quick as thought a blade flashed from his belt, and while Jim was still almost blinded by the dust which was clinging to his eyes, the man struck savagely at him. An instant later a sharp cry escaped from Jim's lips, while he staggered back against the hut; for the dagger had penetrated his left arm, high up near the shoulder.
”Wounded! This is serious. I am in a hole.” The thoughts came to him like a flash, while the urgency of the situation seemed to help to clear his eyes. He could now see the villain who had attacked him quite plainly, while, owing to his position close to the wall of the dwelling, his own figure was in the dusk. And it was that fact alone which saved his life; for had the rascal standing so close to him been sure of his bearings that formidable blade would have descended again. Jim caught the glint of the lamplight on it, and, stung by the pain in his shoulder and by the danger of his position, he struck out fiercely with his clenched fist, and as fortune would have it caught the rascal neatly beneath the chin.
Cras.h.!.+ The man staggered backwards, breathing deeply, and a second later cannoned into one of his comrades who was hurrying forward to support him. He gave a low growl of rage, pulled himself together, and flung himself on Jim again furiously.
”Dog of a spy! You struck me. Police or not, I will kill you.”
There was a snarl in his tones, while the man's whole person bristled with anger. But Jaime de Oteros was not the ruffian to miss a chance, or spoil his own opportunities, because he was in a pa.s.sion. Beneath his smouldering rage the rascal kept a level head, and, watching Jim as well as the darkness would allow him, threw himself forward with startling swiftness. Bang! Cras.h.!.+ That terrible knife blade just missed its mark, and pa.s.sing over our hero's shoulder buried its point deeply in the woodwork of the hut, so deeply, in fact, that Jaime had to pull hard to release it. That effort again helped Jim; indeed it gave him an opportunity he was quick to pounce upon. For out shot his right fist again, and, striking square between the eyes, it sent Jaime hurtling backwards.
”Keep off! I warn you that any further violence will lead to severe punishment.” Jim gasped the words, for the suddenness of the attack had taken his breath away. But he was by no means cowed, and, being one of those sharp, shrewd lads of which America is so justly proud, he promptly decided to make use of the few seconds respite allowed by Jaime's downfall. It was a case where force could not greatly avail him, he told himself, as he stood at bay before the desperadoes, his back close to the wall; but bluff might help him.
”I warn you,” he said again. ”Drop your knives and stand here against the hut with your arms up. If not, I'll whistle to my men to shoot.
Yes,” he said sternly, ”my men, you are surrounded. Jaime de Oteros, the game is up.”
As if to support his statement there came a call at that instant, while men could be heard hurrying towards the scene of the conflict. As for the band of rascals, Jaime had, to be sure, been the first to encounter Jim, but his comrades had been quick to support him. They would have thrown themselves on the young fellow before this had there been s.p.a.ce; but the hut protected him in rear, while Jaime's swinging limbs kept them at a distance in other directions. The lamp within the hut threw its sickly beams on the figures of the rascals, showing their features plainly, and letting Jim recognize at once the ruffian who had, earlier on in the evening, fired at him so deliberately.
”Come, hands up!” he repeated sharply. ”The man who is found with arms on him when my men come on the scene will wish that he had never seen us.”
”Ma.s.sa Jim, Ma.s.sa Jim! what dat happenin'?” came through the darkness at this moment. ”I heard shots; dere was shoutin'. What fo, I want to know?”
”It's that n.i.g.g.e.r of his,” suddenly exclaimed one of the ruffians, hearing Tom. ”It's a blind, a big bluff! Down with him! Gee! Stand aside, and see me shoot him!”
Shouts came from all five now, and as if by common impulse they cast themselves in Jim's direction. And if he had remained in his old position there is little doubt but that the gang would quickly have crushed the life out of his body; but Jim was fully alive on this eventful night. There was no drowsiness about him, as may be imagined, seeing the danger in which he stood. The lamplight showed him the staring faces of the villains in front of him, and their changing expressions immediately after Tom had called. He saw their hands dive down for knife or revolver, and quick as thought he darted to one side; but, quick as he was, one of the gang was too swift for him. A hand fell on his shoulder, fingers closed on his coat, while the ruffian made frantic efforts to detain him.
”He is here! Here!” he shouted. ”I have the slippery dog! Quick, one of you, slit his throat, and have done with it!”
”Take that! Back with you! Tom, Tom!” Jim shouted for the negro, and a second later struck at the rascal with both fists, sending him staggering backwards; but the blows, st.u.r.dy and strong though they were, could not keep off the other desperadoes. They closed round our hero in an instant, and there began at once a conflict the severity of which can hardly be described. The sallow rascal, who had so deliberately attempted to murder him that same night, thrust his comrades aside in his own anxiety to complete the work in which he had so signally failed, and, raising his arm, fired his revolver at point-blank range. However, close shots are not always the ones to kill.
The struggling men at the rascal's elbow disturbed his aim, while the bullet buried itself harmlessly in the wall of the tumbledown dwelling close to which the conflict was taking place. Then Jim did a clever thing. He had dodged swiftly to avoid the shot; but an instant later he darted forward, swung his right fist into the villain's ribs with such force that the breath was driven out of his body, and immediately afterwards wrenched the smoking weapon from his hand. It was his turn now, and right well he took advantage of the opportunity.
”Hands up!” he commanded again, levelling the muzzle at Jaime de Oteros's head. ”Hands up instantly!”
They fell back from him as if he were infected with the plague, and the same uncertain, flickering lamplight which had helped our hero before now showed hesitation in their scowling faces; but it was only for the moment. Let it be remembered that this gang was composed of men who had been in many a scuffle and come out of them successfully, that one and all were unscrupulous, and would as soon and as easily kill a man as take the life of a fly. Was it wonderful that, seeing one youth alone opposed to them, they regained some measure of courage? Jaime's lips receded from his teeth in an ugly snarl, and, as if shot from a gun, he darted at Jim, ducked beneath the levelled muzzle, and closed with him.
”Now you shall pay with your life, dog of a policeman!” he growled.
”This to end our quarrel.”
He gripped Jim's right arm as if with a vice, pus.h.i.+ng it upward. Then the fingers of his left hand fell upon his chin and forced it backwards.
”Strike with your knife! Strike, fool!” he shouted to one of his comrades. ”He is helpless.”
And helpless, in fact, Jim was, for a second villain had gripped him from behind. He was just like a sheep held for the slaughter, and though he struggled frantically he could make no impression on those who held him; but Tom could. The l.u.s.ty negro was not the one to be frightened by a gang of double the strength, and coming upon the scene at this moment he fell upon the men with the ferocity of a tiger. His first charge scattered them, setting Jim free; then a dive to one side allowed him to grip one of the rascals. In a trice he had him swinging at his full arm's length above his head.
”By de poker, but dis fun!” he shouted, waving the man to and fro as if he were merely a package. ”Yo's tried to kill Ma.s.sa Jim, heh? Yo go dere den.” He swished round as if he were poised on a pivot, his arms went back, and in an instant he had thrown his burden against the wall of the hut. That done, he dashed forward on the heels of Jim, and helped the latter to secure Jaime de Oteros. As for the others, they melted away into the darkness, and the last that was heard of them was the sound of their quickly moving feet. But Ching reported that he had encountered one of the rascals. Indeed, a minute later he came into the narrow circle of light dragging one of the wretches with him, and giggling with suppressed amus.e.m.e.nt.
”Him not see Ching,” he explained with a guffaw. ”Him comee runnin' ever so fast. But Ching knowe him not a good man, and send him silly wid a blow from dis stick. Oh, him hab a velly bad head to-mollow. Him so velly solly him meet Ching.”
”And him sorrier still when him come before de police bosses,” exclaimed Tom, gripping the arm of the leader of the gang so firmly that the man howled. ”What fo you make that to-do?” asked Tom, shaking Jaime as if he were a rat. ”Yo no cause to complain. Me hold yo tight, eh? Me hold yo tighter still if yo not stop dat blather. By de poker, but dis fine, Ma.s.sa Jim! We've caught jest three of de ruffians, and see dem hanged, strung up by de neck, dance tattoo in de air. Eh? Dat good for rascals.”
Again he shook the unfortunate Jaime till the ruffian's teeth chattered together, while the man was unable to retain his feet. That he was cowed by the size and strength of his captor there was no doubt, for he made no effort to retaliate or to escape. Instead, he hung listless, his knife fallen at his feet, his left hand clutching at the fingers which compressed his other arm with such painful tenacity.