Part 31 (1/2)
”The rascals don't appreciate good singing,” he said with a grin.
Charley's condition continued to steadily improve under the outlaw's careful ministrations and by nightfall, he was conscious once more and comparatively free from pain.
Night brought no change in the condition of the besieged. Watches were arranged as on the night before, and those off duty retired as soon as darkness had fallen.
”Do you believe in premonitions,” asked Ritter, gravely, as he and Walter stood peering out of the windows. ”Do you believe that coming events cast their shadows before them?”
”I hardly know,” answered Walter, thoughtfully, ”sometimes I almost believe that we are given warnings of coming events, but I can never quite convince myself that the happenings confirming, for instance, say a dream, are anything more than coincidences.”
”A few days ago I would have laughed at such an idea, but all day I have had a vague presentiment of coming evil which I have found impossible to shake off,” explained his companion.
”It's your liver, I dare say,” said Walter cheerfully, ”for my part, I feel that we are going to get out of this hole all right, and live happy ever after as the story books say.”
”There can be but little happiness for me in the future, however, if we come out of this affair,” said his companion sorrowfully. ”Death, I sometimes think, would be the best thing that could befall me. I am a life convict, you remember, found guilty by a jury, and condemned to pa.s.s a life at hard, degrading labor in company with ruffians of the lowest, most debased type. It is not a future to look forward to with pleasure!”
Walter remained silent, he could not but admit the truth of the man's words and reflect upon the misery of such a life would naturally bring to a man of education and refinement like this one. ”You might escape, go to some other state, and begin life anew,” he at last suggested.
”After what you have done for us, and believing you innocent as we now do, we should do all we could to help you to get away.”
”The life of a fugitive would be worse than that of a convict,”
declared the other bitterly. ”In every face I would read suspicion, and dread of detection and arrest would haunt me all the time.”
Walter could say nothing more to encourage this strange, unfortunate character, and with an effort the other shook off the black mood that had fallen upon him.
”I guess you're right, it must be my liver,” he said lightly. ”After all there is something in the old jockey saying, ”There is nothing to a race but the finish.” If I live a convict I can at least die a gentleman.”
A sympathetic silence fell upon the two that lasted unbroken until their watch ended.
CHAPTER x.x.xI.
THE PARLEY.
Only once during the night were the watchers disturbed. Two convicts endeavored to worm their way up to the hut unseen but were quickly spotted by the captain who emptied his revolver at them without any other effect than to cause them to take to their heels. Aside from this incident the besieged were not disturbed.
The convicts were evidently keeping as keen a watch as the besieged to guard against the possibility of any of them escaping. A hat which Chris squeezed out through a crack between the posts was promptly riddled with bullets.
Morning found the hunters and their new friend weary with suspense and their long inactivity. All longed for a stroll in the open air, a chance to stretch their legs, and an unlimited supply of water to drink. It almost seemed that their meager allowance of a pint and a half each for the twenty-four hours did little more than increase their thirst. They could not safely alter their unpleasant situation, however, and they wisely made the best of it and did not grumble.
They had one great consolation in Charley's rapid progress towards health. He was gaining with astonis.h.i.+ng rapidity and bid fair to be completely recovered in a few days.
With the coming of another day, the convicts opened an irregular fire upon the doors and windows of the hut. Many of their bullets pa.s.sed between the cracks in the post barricades and imbedded themselves in the walls. The defenders husbanded their ammunition, firing only when a convict exposed arm or leg. They were satisfied now of the impregnability of their building and their main concern was to keep out of the way of chance bullets.
The morning was well advanced when Walter, who was watching at a window, felt a curious sensation in the soles of his feet, and, startled, looked down to find that he was standing in a tiny pool of water. With a cry of alarm he sprang to where the big copper sat. A glance confirmed his worst fears; a stray bullet had torn a great hole in the vessel near the bottom, and of their precious store of water barely a cupful remained.
It was a staggering blow to all. Food they could exist without for several days, but in that warm, humid climate life could not be sustained without water for any length of time. Before forty-eight hours had pa.s.sed they would be confronted by the alternatives of surrendering to the convicts, or to suffering the awful tortures of thirst.
”We must hold out as long as we can,” declared Ritter, ”something may turn up. Even death by thirst would be better than torture at the hands of those fiends. What little water is left, I would suggest that we save for the sick lad. We can stand thirst longer than he.”
The rest agreed heartily to this proposal and the little water remaining was poured into an empty gourd and placed where it would be safe from bullets. By tacit consent they agreed that their loss should be concealed from Charley, who had slept throughout the incident. They knew him well enough to be sure that he would not touch the little water remaining if he knew they were suffering from thirst.