Part 28 (1/2)
”We've just 'bout come to it,” gravely remarked Cousin. ”I ain't no talkin' cuss, but I'll say right here that I sorter like you, Morris. If things could 'a' been different, an' I could be more like other folks, I 'low we'd been good friends.”
”We're the best of friends, Shelby. As long as I can think I shall remember how you came with me into this trap to help rescue the girl.”
”Shucks! Don't be a fool!” he growled. ”That ain't nothin'. Once I bu'sted up a Mingo camp to git my dawg. They'd caught the critter an' was cal'latin' to sculp him alive. Got him free, too, an' the d.a.m.n pup was that stirred up by his feelin's that he couldn't tell who was his friends, an' he chawed my thumb somethin' cruel.”
He stepped to the loophole, and after peering out mumbled:
”Changin' mighty smart.”
I glanced out and the ridges were losing their outlines and the valley was becoming blurred. Cousin mused.
”It'll be comin' right smart now. Don't overlook anything.”
We made a last examination of flints and primings, and Cousin softly arranged the heavy door bar so it might be displaced with a single movement. He startled me by abruptly standing erect and c.o.c.king his head to one side and remaining motionless.
”The old Englishman!” he exclaimed. ”He ain't fired a shot, or tried to talk with us for a long time.”
I went to the front end of the cabin and put my eye to the peephole. The small window showed black. I called to him several times and received no answer. There was only one conclusion. A chance ball through a loophole or a window had killed the old fellow. Cousin agreed to this. A signal at the mouth of the valley brought us to our toes. It was about to begin. The signal was answered from the ridge behind us.
”They've put the stopper in the bottle,” Cousin whispered. ”But here's an idea. The upper cabin, where the Dales was, is empty. If we could sneak in there without bein' seen we'd have the slimmest sort of a chance to duck back to the ridge while they was shootin' their fire-arrers at this cabin.
There would be a few minutes, when the first flames begin showin', when every eye would be on this place. If we could only reach the flank o' the ridge we'd be fools if we couldn't dodge 'em.”
This appealed to me as being excellent strategy. Knowing the Dales' cabin was empty, the Indians would not think of paying it much attention at first. To leave our shelter and make the short distance would require darkness. Our greatest danger would be from the Indians on the ridge back of us. By this time they were lined up at the foot of the slope and were all ready to break from cover.
In our favor was the Granville cabin, which would shelter us from the ridge for a bit of the perilous way. Already it was possible, I decided, to crawl the distance without being detected by the enemy across the valley. Cousin refused to run the risk, and argued.
”Every minute gained now gives us that much more of a chance. The Injuns out front ain't all across the valley any more. They begun creepin' into the clearin' the minute it begun growin' dark. Reckon it's time they l'arned who's cooped up in here, so's they won't git too bold.”
He removed the bar of the door and through the crevice sounded his terrible war-cry, the scream of a panther. It stabbed the dusk with ear-splitting intensity.
”There! They'll stop an' count a dozen afore gittin' too close,” he muttered as he softly replaced the bar. ”They'll lay mighty low an' won't bother to do much but watch the door. I 'low it'll be hard work to crawl out without they guessin' somethin's wrong.”
”Then let's rip up the floor and dig a hole under the logs,” I suggested.
”We'll do that,” he quietly agreed.
As cautiously as possible we removed several of the puncheon slabs next to the wall. The base logs were huge fellows and held the floor several feet from the ground. To excavate a hole under either of the four would have required more time than we believed we had to spare. Our plan threatened to be hopeless until Cousin explored the length of the log with his fingers and gave a little cry of delight. He found a hole already dug near the front end of the cabin. It had been the work of the dog. Working with our hunting-knives we loosened the dirt and pawed it behind us and made it larger. At last Cousin pressed me back and ducked his head and shoulders into the hole. Then he drew back and whispered:
”I can git my head an' shoulders through. 'low I could squirm out o' h.e.l.l if I could git my shoulders through. I'll go ahead an' you pa.s.s out the rifles. Ready?”
I pressed his hand. There followed a few moments of waiting, then a handful of dirt fell into the hole and informed me my companion had squeezed clear of the log and that the ultimate test was to be faced. I pa.s.sed the rifles, b.u.t.ts first, and felt them gently removed from my grasp. Working noiselessly as possible I soon squirmed out into the refres.h.i.+ng evening air and lay motionless. Cousin was ahead and already worming his way toward the third cabin. My outstretched hand touched the b.u.t.t of my rifle, and I began creeping after my friend.
I nearly suffocated in crawling by the opening between our cabin and the Granville cabin, for I scarcely ventured to breathe. It seemed as if any one within pistol-shot of me must hear the pounding of my heart. The silence continued, and at last I was hugging the ground at the end of the cabin and for the time sheltered from spying eyes at the foot of the ridge.
A quavering cry rang out at the mouth of the valley. This time it was answered from the clearing on our right as well as from the ridge. The Indians had crept closer, just as Cousin had predicted.
Half a minute pa.s.sed, then the signal sounded directly ahead of us, or from beyond the Dales' cabin. The circle was completed. From the ridge soared a burning arrow. It fell short, landing behind the cabin we had vacated. As it gave off no light I surmised it went out on striking the ground.