Part 48 (1/2)

”Oh,” he said, ”I only wonder you fellows did not hear my heart going pit-a-pat, when Castizo told us his daughter was coming round in the yacht.”

”My dear Peter,” Jill said, ”I do believe you are actually in love.”

”Is it the first time you've discovered it, my honest Greenie? Haven't I cause to be? Was there ever such a lovely or fascinating creature in the world as Dulzura! And I'm a man now, remember. Twenty-one, boys, or I will be in a month.”

He stroked an incipient moustache as he spoke, and appeared savage because Jill and I laughed at him.

”Suppose Dulzura is already engaged?” said Jill, somewhat provokingly.

”Jill, you're a Job's comforter,” replied Peter. ”Of course, if she is engaged, there's an end to the matter. I'd enter a convent and turn a father.”

”A pretty father you'd make,” cried Jill, laughing again.

”All right,” said Peter, ”Wait till you're in love, Greenie, and won't I serve you out just!”

”Well, boys,” I put in, ”a happy thought has just occurred to me.”

”Let's have it.”

”Suppose we cease talking and all go to bed.”

”Right,” cried Peter, jumping up and beginning to undress.

In a few minutes more ”good-nights” were said, and we were composing ourselves to sleep. Sleep in this region is deep and heavy, and I may surely add healthy, for one awakens in the morning feeling as fresh as the daisies or the proverbial lark.

I did not seem to have been asleep a quarter of an hour when Peter shook me by the shoulder.

”Jack, Jack,” he was saying, ”there is something up.”

Peter was already dressed, and accustomed as I had been to scenes of danger I was soon following his example, though hardly knowing where I was or what I was doing.

”Don't you hear?” said Peter.

I listened now. In a moment I was as wide awake as ever I have been in my life.

I remember everything that happened that morning as though 'twere but yesterday. It _was_ morning too. Our windows faced the east, and there was a faint glimmering of the dawn already in the sky.

From the direction of the Indian camp, came first a subdued hum of angry voices. These were soon mingled with shouts of men and screams of women and children, and presently there were added the clash of weapons and the ring of revolver shots.

”They are fighting down at the toldos,” said Peter. ”Hurry up with your dressing.”

”Whom are they fighting with?”

”I cannot say. It may be mutiny. Either that, or the Northern Indians are on us.”

”Heaven forbid.”

”Here, Greenie!” cried Peter.

”Jill, Jill!” I shouted, ”Get up, brother. They are fighting.”