Adventures of Working Men Part 22

"Don't believe it," said Samson, st.u.r.dily, "only a bugbear made up by some of them pioneering chaps to frighten new-comers from going up country and taking claims, so that they may have best choice themselves."

"Wallace's boy's head was battered in," said Tom.

"Gammon," said Samson, who, however, could not help looking uneasily towards the black.

"Then there was Ellis's poor gal; you know how they served her."

"Hold your tongue, will you?" growled Samson; "do you want to frighten the women to death?" and as he spoke he clapped his hand over his convict servant's mouth, and glanced uneasily towards the door which led into the interior of the hut--one that was unusually large, for during Samson's pleasant sojourn in this smiling wilderness, matters had prospered with him, and bit by bit he had added to his dwelling, and found himself compelled to make fresh arrangements for his flocks and ever-multiplying herds.

"Did you call?" said a pleasant voice, and then the door opened, and Samson's comely wife made her appearance.

"No," said Samson, "I didn't call, but--"

"Here a come," said Teddy, and all present heard the rapid beat of feet, audible to the black's keen sense some time before. Tom c.o.c.ked and raised his rifle; Samson s.n.a.t.c.hed down a revolver from a hook over the fireplace, knocking down and breaking a little china group of the children in the wood, an ornament brought from the far-off English home.

But the next moment arms were lowered, and Teddy's spear was not thrown, for two men, whose faces were known to all present, dashed panting into the hut.

"Look out," one of them gasped, "the blacks are out."

"Now then, master!" cried Tom triumphantly.

"Don't see nothing blacker about than your face, neighbour," said Samson dryly, as he turned to one of his visitors. "Ain't neither of you killed, are you?"

The man did not answer, but turning up the sleeve of his woollen shirt to the elbow, showed a long, jagged but superficial scratch from the upper joint to the wrist, with here the blood drying fast, there still standing in beads upon the lips of the wound.

"I might have been," said the new-comer grimly, "if the fellow who threw the spear that made that long scratch had been truer in his aim. The blacks are out strong, well armed, and in their war-paint; and if you don't want them in here, Samson Harris, you'd better shut that door."

Half-grudgingly, the squatter made two steps towards the door; then he stopped for he caught sight of his wife, standing with blanched and drawn face, holding tightly her two children. She did not speak; but, as their eyes met, her lips parted to form one word which the father read in an instant. Thought after thought rushed lightning-like through his brain; all the old colonists' tales and their horrors seemed to force themselves upon him; the burning of Riley's hut, and the cruel butchery of wife and children, and the other barbarities said to have been committed; the child of a squatter named Wallace beaten to death with clubs; the death of the blooming daughter of one Ellis. A mist seemed to swim before his eyes for an instant; but the next he had shouted, "Come on, such of you as are men;" for he had again encountered the agonised face of his wife--again interpreted that one word her lips had parted to form, and he dashed to the hut-door; but only to be grasped tightly by his convict servant, Tom.

"Let me go!" he shouted, "are you mad?" and he dealt the man a heavy blow in the chest, and sent him staggering back, shouting--"Hold him, hold him!"

"Let me go, Anderson--Jones!" cried Samson, again struggling to reach the door, but held back by the new-comers. "Are you mad, are you men, when poor Mary is out there in the scrub?"

The wounded man gave more of a yell than a cry, as Samson Harris uttered those words, and, loosing his hold of the father, he made for the door himself, but only to fall heavily, tripped up by the waddy the black shepherd had cunningly placed between his legs.

The fall was heavy; but as he went down two spears darted through the open door, and stuck quivering one in the floor, the other in the table.

The next moment the door was dashed to by Teddy, and its rough wooden bar laid across.

"Better there, than through you, Master Anderson," said Tom, dragging the quivering spear out of the table, and pa.s.sing it to Teddy.

The young man did not speak; but his eyes glared, and the curls of his black beard seemed to move and writhe as his features worked. Then, grasping the rifle he held in his hand, he turned to Samson Harris, saying in a husky voice--

"Are you ready?"

Samson forced a bullet down upon the powder of the rifle he was now engaged in charging, and nodded his head by way of reply.

There was no opposition made now, and as Samson and Anderson prepared to make a dash out to reach the scrub, Tom the convict, Anderson's companion, and the black made as if to accompany them.

"No," said Samson hoa.r.s.ely, "stay and protect them," and he pointed to his wife and the two astonished children. "Now open the door."

At his words, Teddy threw the door widely open, but before any one could pa.s.s through, he dashed it to again, while as he did so, Samson groaned, for, "thud--thud--thud" came the sound of three spears as they stuck in the stout woodwork, one pa.s.sing right through; and he knew that had they stood in the doorway, it would have been to their death.

"Frank Anderson," said Samson in a low voice, holding out his hand, "I always set my face against your coming here, for I didn't think you were in earnest, my boy; and now--now--if it's to come to that--" and he pointed to the spears, his voice shaking a little the while, "I should like to make friends first, though I have gone on against you. Frank Anderson, I beg your pardon!"

The young man groaned, as he took the proffered hand, and then in the same low voice he whispered--

"But Mary, when did she go? Which way?"

"Heaven forgive me," exclaimed the wretched father, "and I'd forgotten her till _she_ showed me my duty," and he nodded towards his trembling wife. "She took the pail and went to the cows, half--three-quarters of an hour ago."

"But we must go to her," whispered the young man.

"Then you'll have to go with your skin as full of spears as a porkypine's back, master," said Tom, who had crept closer to them.

"There; hark at that!" he exclaimed, as a burst of yells arose.

"There's a good two hundred of the black devils dancing about."

"It would be madness to go," said Samson, "and like sacrificing three more lives; but she may have hid herself, and escaped."

The young man shuddered, and then raised his rifle, for a spear came crashing through the window, but happily without striking any one.

"Here," said Samson, rousing up, "lend a hand?" and with the help of those present, he half carried his wife and two children up a short ladder to a roughly-formed loft, full of wool fleeces, and formed in the low-pitched roof.

"There, creep under them," he cried, "and first pull up the ladder. Now hide yourselves there, you'll be safe for the present."

"Look out," shouted Tom, as Mrs Harris dragged up the ladder, and its last rounds were beyond reach, while at the warning cry, Teddy the black and Anderson discharged spear and rifle at a couple of blacks who appeared at the inner door, having climbed in by one of the windows.

Then ensued a sharp struggle, in which desperate blows were given on either side, and the inner room was cleared; but not before three of the savage a.s.sailants lay writhing upon the floor, their life-blood staining the white boards of the plain bed-chamber.

It was a dangerous task, and more than one spear flew through the window as the bodies were hoisted up and thrown through: then the opening was barricaded as well as those of the other little front windows of the hut, and one or two stood at each, ready to meet the next a.s.sault.

The thin blue smoke of the discharged pieces floated slowly upwards, and seemed to wreathe about over the trampled blood-stains, when a cry came from Tom the convict, and almost at the same instant the report of his piece, summoned help to the back half-kitchen, half wash-house, whose little window was the only opening in the rear of the house.

The help was needed, for about a score of the blacks had dashed up to the opening, and were trying to force their way in; but a well kept up fire from rifle and revolver drove them back, with several of their number bleeding, upon the ground.

"It's of no use to be merciful," exclaimed Anderson. "They must be shot down, or we shall be all butchered. Take a steady aim, sir, for your wife and children's sake; but I'd keep two or three shots left in my revolver for the last."

Samson Harris turned and glared at the wild countenance of the young man by his side, as if to ask what he meant, but the look was unnoticed, for, as if thirsting for blood, Anderson kept on loading and firing whenever one of their enemies offered his body as a fair mark.

At every shot that took effect, there was a wild yelling, above which might be heard the shrieking and wailing of the gins as some famous warrior of the tribe slackened his muscles, let fall spear, waddy, shield, or boomerang, that he should hurl no more; but, in spite of their losses, the attack was kept up now on one side, now on the other, spear after spear flying through the little windows, or sticking in the bedding with which they were barricaded, to be dragged out and sent flying back by Teddy the black, who in his excitement had reduced his costume still farther, only wanting a little yellow, red, and white paint to emulate the warrior uniform of his enemies.

But at last the evening had set in, for the short twilight was past, and the stars were looking down calmly upon the scene of the afternoon's bloodshed. Though but shortly before, dusky figure after dusky figure might have been seen gliding from tree to tree, or darting across some open spot, yelling and brandishing spear or club, now all was silent, save at times the distant lowing of some of Samson's cattle or the bleating of sheep. Now and again, too, would come the barking and howling of the dogs that had been driven away by the fierce native onslaught--one of those raids made upon the settlers, whom they looked upon as usurping their land.

Samson Harris seemed utterly prostrated by his agony of soul, for again and again--almost incessantly--he kept picturing to himself the child he accused himself of neglecting, struggling in the hands of the blacks.

He would have gone to seek her now, mad as the act would have been, in the darkness of the night, surrounded as they were by enemies, but for the prayers of his wife; and their only hope seemed to be that poor Mary had taken the alarm and sought for refuge in the scrub, which extended for some, distance in one direction. This, he knew, would be but an act of folly if she had been seen, for they would have tracked her footsteps to the place of refuge with the greatest of ease; their prayer was that she might have taken the alarm in time. Anderson and his companion had had a very narrow escape at the station they occupied some few miles from Samson's home; but a bold front and a daring charge had enabled them to combine their forces, so, as Anderson had hoped, to be of some protection to Mary Harris, for whom he had, in spite of her father's opposition, long entertained a warm feeling of admiration.

There was a chance that, under cover of the darkness, Mary might thread her way amongst the blacks and reach the hut; and in this hope Anderson stood at the open door watching the night through hour after hour, his senses on the stretch. More than once, too, with Teddy for companion, he walked for some little distance round the hut; but stumbling over the body of one of their enemies, he fell amongst the bushes with so loud a crash that he was glad to retreat, and stand watching once more at his post.

An inspection after the afternoon's struggle had proved that, beyond a few scratches, the defenders of the hut had escaped unharmed; and but for the fearful anxiety which oppressed all present, they would hopefully have looked for the morning, ready to meet their enemy again with renewed courage. Provisions they had in plenty to sustain them, if needs were, for weeks. Ammunition, too, showed no sign of running short, till Samson opened a little keg, to find that the powder it should have contained was powder no more, but one hard ma.s.s, into which it had been turned by the dripping from the roof. The bad news was conveyed from one to the other, and in grim silence the men examined their powder-flasks, to find that he who was most wealthy possessed but two charges beyond the one in his rifle.