Part 38 (1/2)

It was plain enough that, perhaps ignorant of his loss, perhaps condoning it, Garcia had made common cause with the Indians, and Lilla was to be saved before fire was applied to the hacienda.

For a few moments there was a dead silence, and then the party glided along under the verandah.

”What was that Garcia said?” I then whispered to Lilla.

I knew that my interpretation must have been pretty correct from the start Lilla gave, and then her shudder.

”I dare not tell you,” she said, with a half sob.

Then leaving the window, after softly closing and securing it, we hurried, hand in hand, to my uncle.

”How long you have been!” he whispered.

”There was a party of six or seven by my window,” I said; ”Garcia heading them.”

”Then I was right!” he exclaimed anxiously. ”I thought--”

The next moment my hand was upon his lips; for, dimly-seen through the narrow aperture left, from which my uncle watched, were four dark figures; while at the same moment there was a sharp cracking noise, as of breaking woodwork, from another part of the house.

”Am I to shoot or ain't I? Is Mas'r Harry there?” whispered a voice from out of the darkness. ”Because they're trying to break in here.”

”You must fire, Tom,” said my uncle huskily; ”and mind this, if they do break in, our only hope is in the kitchen, which is stone built and strong. Make your way there.”

”Right, Mas'r Landell,” said Tom coolly.

Then we heard him glide off.

”Lilla, join your mother in there,” I heard my uncle then whisper.

Directly after I knew we were alone.

”Harry,” said my uncle, ”it seems to me that we ought to have beaten a retreat; but it is too late to talk of that. Our only hope now is by giving them a sharp reception. If we can keep them at bay till daylight we shall have a better opportunity of escaping.”

”I don't agree with you,” I said. ”I think our hopes should be in the darkness.”

Drawing near to the window, my remarks were cut short by the sharp report of a gun, followed in a few seconds by another, when the cras.h.i.+ng noise, evidently made by the tearing down of the jalousie bars at one window, suddenly ceased, and a loud shriek rang out upon the night air.

We neither of us spoke, as we listened attentively, to hear the next moment the sound made by a ramrod in a gun-barrel, and we knew that Tom was safe.

”They've gone from my window now, Mas'r Landell,” whispered a voice at our elbow; ”and they won't come back there, I think, seeing how hot it was. But, harken there, isn't that them trying somewhere else?”

There was no mistaking the sound. Strong hands were striving to tear down a jalousie at the other end of the house; and, hurrying there, my uncle fired, just as several dimly-seen dark figures were beating in the window.

”Crack--crack!” two sharp reports from my uncle's gun; but this time, as their flashes lit up the room where we stood, the fire was replied to by half a dozen pieces, but fortunately without effect.

Then again fell silence, with once more the same result, that of a breaking jalousie at an upstairs window.

”They've swarmed up the verandah posts, lads,” said my uncle thickly; ”but you two stay by your windows--you at this, Harry; you, Tom, at the other.”

We heard him steal away to the staircase, and then Tom left my side.