Part 25 (1/2)
Forsetta was shouting his orders:
”Forward! . . . There's no danger! . . . They've no ammunition! . . .
Forward, I tell you! The Frenchman's pockets are stuffed with notes!”
The seven tramps ran forward as one man. Simon levelled his revolver briskly and fired. They stopped. No one was. .h.i.t. Forsetta was triumphant:
”They're done for! . . . Nothing but short-range Browning bullets!
. . . At them!”
He himself, protecting his body with a piece of sheet-iron, ran up at full speed. Mazzani and the tramps formed up in a circle at thirty or forty yards.
”Ready!” bellowed Forsetta. ”Out with your knives!”
Dolores remarked to Simon that they must not remain in their observation-post, since most of their enemies would be able to reach the foot of the fortress unseen and slip between the marble blocks.
They slid through a gap which formed a chimney from the top to the ground.
”There they are! There they are!” said Dolores. ”Fire now! . . . Look, here's a c.h.i.n.k!”
Through this c.h.i.n.k Simon saw two big ruffians walking ahead of the rest. Two shots rang out. The two big ruffians fell. The party halted for the second time, hesitating what to do.
Dolores and Simon profited by this delay to take refuge at the extreme edge of the river. Three single blocks of marble formed a sort of sentry-box, with an empty s.p.a.ce in front of it.
”Charge!” shouted Forsetta, joining the men. ”They're trapped! Mazzani and I have got them covered. If the Frenchman stirs, we'll shoot him down!”
To meet the charge, Simon and Dolores were obliged to stand up and half-expose themselves. Terrified by the Indian's threat, Dolores threw herself before Simon, making a rampart of her body.
”Halt!” ordered Forsetta, restraining his men's onrush. ”And you, Dolores, you leave your Frenchman! Come! He shall have his life if you leave him. He can go: it's you I'm after!”
Simon seized the girl with his left arm and drew her back by main force:
”Not a movement!” he said. ”I forbid you to leave me! I'll answer for your safety. As long as I live those brutes shan't get you.”
And, with the girl pressed against the hollow of his shoulder, he stretched out his right arm.
”Well done, M. Dubosc!” jeered Forsetta. ”Seems that we're sweet on the fair Dolores and that we're sticking to her! Those Frenchmen are all alike! Chivalrous fellows!”
With a wave of the hand he gathered up the tramps for the final attack:
”Now then, mates! One more effort and all the notes are yours! Mazzani and I bag the pretty lady. Is that right, Mazzani?”
All together they came rus.h.i.+ng on. All together, at an order from Forsetta, they hurled, like so many projectiles, the pieces of wood and iron with which they had protected themselves. Dolores was not hit, but Simon, struck on the arm, dropped his Browning at the very moment when he had fired at Mazzani and brought him down. One of the tramps leapt upon the pistol, which had rolled away, while Forsetta struggled with Dolores, avoiding the girl's dagger and imprisoning her in his arms.
”Oh, Simon! I'm done for!” she screamed, trying to hang on to him.
But Simon had the five tramps to deal with. Unarmed, with nothing but his hands and feet to fight with, he was shot at three times by the man who had picked up his pistol and was clumsily firing off the last few cartridges. He staggered for a moment under the weight of the other brutes and was thrown to the ground. Two of them seized his legs. Two others tried to strangle him, while the fifth still kept him covered with his empty pistol.
”Simon, save me! . . . Save me!” cried Dolores, whom Forsetta was carrying off, wrapped in a blanket and bound with a rope.
He made a desperate effort, escaping his a.s.sailants for a few seconds, and, before they had time to come to close quarters again, acting on a sudden impulse he threw his pocket-book to them, shouting: