Part 36 (2/2)

d.i.c.k could scarcely believe his own senses; but he was not a man given to indulge much wandering thought in times of action. Giving himself one shake, to make sure of his being actually sound in wind and limb, he bounded away up the precipice by a path with which he was well acquainted, reached his horse, flew by a short cut to the mouth of the valley, and, wheeling suddenly round, met the horrified Indians in the very teeth!

The roar with which he met them was compound in its nature, and altogether hideous! His mind was in a mingled condition of amazement and satisfaction at his escape, triumph at the success of his plan, and indignation at the cowardly wickedness of the savages. A rollicking species of mad pugnacity took possession of him, and the consequence was, that the sounds which issued from his leathern throat were positively inhuman.

The rus.h.i.+ng ma.s.s of terror-stricken men, thus caught, as it were, between two fires, divided, in order to escape him. d.i.c.k was not sorry to observe this. He felt that the day was gained without further bloodshed. He knew that the superst.i.tious dread in which he was held was a guarantee that the savages would not return; so, instead of turning with the trappers to join in the pursuit, he favoured them with a concluding and a peculiarly monstrous howl, and then rode quietly away by a circuitous route to his own cavern.

Thus he avoided March Marston, who, on finding that his friend d.i.c.k was out, had returned at full speed to aid his comrades, and arrived just in time to meet them returning, triumphant and panting, from their pursuit of the foe!

”Are they gone?” cried March in amazement.

”Ay, right slick away into the middle o' nowhar,” replied Big Waller, laughing heartily. ”Did ye iver hear such a roarer, comrades?”

”Have you licked 'em out an' out?” continued the incredulous March, ”Ay, out an' out, an' no mistake,” replied Bounce, dismounting.

”Well, that _is_ lucky,” said March; ”for my friend d.i.c.k I found was not--”

”Ah! we not have need him,” interrupted Gibault, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, ”de Wild Man of de West hims come, an'--oh! you should see what hims have bin do!”

”The Wild Man again!” exclaimed March in dismay--”an' me absent!”

Gibault nodded and laughed.

At that moment an exclamation from Redhand attracted the attention of the whole party. He was kneeling beside Macgregor, who had dismounted and lain down.

”I believe they've done for me,” said the fur trader faintly. ”That arrow must have gone deeper than I thought.”

”You'd better let me see the wound, sir,” said Redhand; ”your s.h.i.+rt is covered with blood.”

”No, no,” said the wounded man savagely; ”let me rest--see, I'm better now. You will find a flask in the bag at my saddle-bow. Bring it here.”

”I know that d.i.c.k--the hunter--is a good hand at doctoring,” said March.

”What a pity he is not here! We might carry you there, sir.”

”Carry me,” laughed the fur trader fiercely; ”no, I'll never be carried till I'm carried to my grave. How far off is his place? Where stays he?”

”Four miles from this. I'll take you if you can ride,” said March.

”Ay, that I can, bravely,” cried the trader, who, having taken a deep draught of spirits, seemed to be imbued with new life. ”Come, young sir, mount.”

The trappers endeavoured to dissuade the violent man from the attempt, but he could not be controlled; so March, hastily observing that he would see him safe to the hunter's abode and return without delay, mounted his horse and rode away, followed by the wounded man.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE WOUNDED FUR TRADER.

When they reached the entrance to the cavern, March and his companion dismounted; but the latter was so weak from loss of blood that he stumbled at the foot of the track, and fell to the earth insensible.

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