Part 6 (1/2)
”Is he bad?” The foreman's tone was hushed.
”I'm afraid so. He's dreadfully cold; he's--he's bleeding internally, I think. Perhaps, if a surgeon comes in time----”
”A what?” Baggott exploded. ”Gosh almighty, where's a surgeon coming from?”
”From the barracks,” explained Billie, navely. ”Mr. Thode's gone for the troops.”
”When? How? What do you think of that young---- Hurrah!”
The eager questions from a dozen throats ended in a husky cheer, but it died as swiftly as it was born. From across the road a huge dark blur had detached itself and was moving forward stealthily to the attack.
The fusillade of shots recommenced, but a groan had started and spread among the watchers at the windows.
”What is it?” Billie's tone was still steady, but a chill had crept into her veins.
”They've got a new battering-ram; looks like a telegraph pole! No door could hold against it,” Baggott muttered. ”It's all up with us now!”
The rifles popped valiantly, but a thunderous impact fairly rocked the house, and, fascinated, Billie watched the door bulge toward her, then spring back into place as the topmost bolt snapped like a knife-blade.
One more onslaught, perhaps two----
Billie's hand closed on her revolver and she moved instinctively closer to her father's couch. Then all at once she threw up her head, and her voice rang out.
”Hark! What is that? Don't you hear it?”
None heeded as she stood with every muscle and nerve tense, straining her ears. The night was no longer dark and a faint rosy light seeping in at an easterly window reddened the glow of the swinging oil lamps and transfigured her drawn blanched face. What sound, distant and far away, had been borne to her on the wind of the dawn?
Again the giant battering-ram stove at the door and the middle bolt crashed. The flimsy impromptu barricade toppled, then swayed back into place and a shuddering sigh went up from the handful of white-faced men. One more drive, and the end would come.
The other women had huddled again behind the bar, but Billie still stood with uplifted face. And now she was smiling! Swift and sure the rhythmic echo of galloping hoofs reached her consciousness and even as the third shock came and the door crashed inward carrying the barricade with it, a ringing shout burst upon the air and the staccato rattle of a machine-gun sounded the final note in the symphony of battle.
The ragged, wild-eyed horde, sweeping in at the shattered doorway, brought up standing, then turned madly and scattered like chaff. In their stead, through the aperture leaped a tall, unrecognizable figure caked with dust and clotted blood which reeled to the couch and collapsed beside it, labored breath hissing from tortured lungs and blood-shot eyes filmed with exhaustion.
Outside, the tide of conflict raged up and down the street and swept out over the plaza, but neither the girl nor the man at her feet could hear it.
”You made it! Dad said you would play to win!” There was a new note of which she was herself unconscious in Billie's tones, and she added softly, ”You were just bound and determined to take care of me right from the start! Weren't you, Mr. Duenna?”
The new day dawned and quiet was once more restored to Limasito. Those of the bandits who escaped swift justice had fled toward the distant hills with the troops in full pursuit and the plaza was a humming hive of survivors, augmented, as the tidings spread, by all the countryside.
The dismantled Blue Chip had been turned into a temporary hospital and the wounded lay in rows upon the tables and hastily improvised cots, but Gentleman Geoff was not among them.
He had been moved by his own wish out to a shady corner of the patio where he lay with a quiet, whimsical smile lifting the drooped ends of his mustache and his genial eyes, with a curious questioning look in their depths, stared straight before him.
Billie, huddled on the ground, her head pillowed against the side of his cot, slumbered deeply, and Gentleman Geoff's slim, delicate fingers touched her hair in a wistful caress. On a nearby bench Thode, bathed and freshly bandaged, slept also. Jim Baggott had tried in vain to drag him back to the hotel, for the young engineer had read a mute desire in the dying man's glance and refused to leave his side.
The army surgeon had done his best, but the end was near and only the superb vitality of the old gambler glowed still, like a living spark.
Now and then the surgeon paused in his busy round within to glance speculatively from the doorway and each time Gentleman Geoff nodded rea.s.suringly to him. Not yet!
The blaze of noon subsided, and as the shadows lengthened in the patio, Billie stirred, and Thode stretched and opened his eyes.
”Oh, Dad, I must have fallen asleep!” The girl's tones were filled with contrition. ”Do you want anything? Is the pain very bad?”