Part 29 (2/2)

Just outside its wall he dug a deep grave, and carrying the faithful old monkey to it he lowered him gently to the bottom and filling up the grave again, heaped a little pile of stones on the mound.

To the tender-hearted lad there was something pathetic and touching in the way the poor creature had met its death.

Charley's illness cast a gloom over even the irrepressible Chris, and breakfast was eaten in sad silence.

As soon as he had finished, Chris shouldered one of the rifles and headed for the landing to watch for the outlaws, while the captain and Walter repaired to the hut to attend to the stricken lad.

There was little they could do to relieve his sufferings beyond sponging his hot body with a wet cloth and giving him sparingly of the water that he called for incessantly. At last he sank into a kind of a stupor and the heavy-hearted watchers stole outside for a breath of fresh air.

Walter at last broke the silence that hung like a cloud upon them.

”I've been thinking,” he said, ”that it might not be a bad plan to meet the outlaws at the landing. We could dispose of several before they could get on sh.o.r.e.”

”No,” said his companion decidedly, ”they would only land in some other place and maybe cut us off from the hut. You mark my words, lad, Charley thought over every side of this question before he laid his plans an' we can't do better than follow them. The most we can hope to do is to hold this hut until Little Tiger comes with his people.”

Their further discussion was cut short by the sudden appearance of Chris.

”Dey's comin', Ma.s.sa, dey's comin',” shouted the excited little darky.

”Dey ain't more dan a half mile away.”

Gathering together the cooking utensils scattered around the fire, the three entered the hut and soon had the last post secured in its hole, effectually barring the doorway.

Through the cracks in the windows and door, the hunters watched for the appearance of the foe.

An hour of suspense pa.s.sed slowly by, then suddenly there came the noise of a falling stone and an evil face peeped cautiously over the wall.

Walter fired quickly but missed, and the face disappeared with ludicrous haste.

For some minutes the outlaws remained quiet, no doubt conferring together, then a tiny square of white was hoisted above the wall, to be quickly followed by the youngest outlaw who dropped coolly down into the inclosure bearing the flag in his hand.

”We can't fire upon him,” declared Walter as Chris raised his gun. ”He bears a truce flag and is unarmed. You keep a sharp watch on the others and I will talk with this fellow. If I am not mistaken, it is the one Charley was so impressed by.”

The young outlaw approached the hut at a careless sauntering walk, waving the flag jauntily in his hand. He noted the barred openings and protruding rifle barrel with a cool smile and strolled around to the door.

”Hallo in there,” he called, cheerfully. ”I want to talk to you.”

”Go ahead,” Walter answered grimly, ”we're listening.”

”Come now, that's no way to receive a visitor,” said the young fellow, lightly. ”I want to talk with that bright-eyed chap I talked with before.”

”You can't,” Walter said, sadly. ”He's dying of fever.”

”Why don't you cure him up?” demanded the envoy, sharply, ”the swamp fever is nothing if it's treated right.”

”We haven't a grain of medicine,” Walter replied. ”But state your errand,” he added sharply.

”Look here,” said the young outlaw after a short pause. ”I talked those fellows into this conference idea so as to get a good chance to speak with you fellows. I am sick of that gang. I am not as bad as they, and I am clean disgusted with them. I want to join forces with you fellows. I know they are bound to finish you sooner or later, but I would rather die with gentlemen than to live with murderers.”

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