Charlie to the Rescue Part 34

"Britons," shouted he with unalterable determination--"Never, never, ne-ever, shall be--Redskins!"

This unnatural termination was not an intentional variation. It was the result of a scene that suddenly burst upon his view.

Far away on the prairie two riders were seen racing at what he would have styled a slant away from him. They were going at a pace that suggested fleeing for life.

"Redskins--arter somethin'," murmured d.i.c.k, pulling up, and shading his eyes from the sun with his right hand, as he gazed earnestly at the two riders.

"No-n-no. They're whites," he continued, "one o' them a man; t'other a woman. I can make that out, anyhow."

As he spoke, the racing riders topped a far-off knoll; halted, and turned round as if to gaze back towards the north--the direction from which they had come. Then, wheeling round as if in greater haste than ever, they continued their headlong gallop and disappeared on the other side of the knoll.

d.i.c.k naturally turned towards the north to see, if possible, what the two riders were flying from. He was not kept long in doubt, for just then a band of hors.e.m.e.n was seen topping the farthest ridge in that direction, and bearing down on the belt of woodland, along the edge of which they galloped towards him.

There was no mistaking who they were. The war-whoop, sounding faint and shrill in the distance, and the wild gesticulations of the riders, told the story at once to our seaman--two pale-faces, pursued by a band of bloodthirsty savages!

Unskilled though he was in backwoods warfare, d.i.c.k was not unfamiliar with war's alarms, nor was he wanting in common sense. To side with the weaker party was a natural tendency in our seaman. That the pursuers were red, and the pursued white, strengthened the tendency, and the fact that one of the latter was a woman settled the question. Instantly d.i.c.k shook the reins, drove his unarmed heels against the sides of Polly, and away they went after the fugitives like a black thunderbolt, if there be such artillery in nature!

A wild yell told him that he was seen.

"Howl away, ye land lubbers!" growled d.i.c.k. "You'll have to fill your sails wi' a stiffer breeze than howlin' before ye overhaul this here craft."

Just then he reached the crest of a prairie billow, whence he could see the fugitives still far ahead of him. Suddenly a suspicion entered the seaman's mind, which made his heart almost choke him. What if this should be Mary Jackson and her father? Their relative size countenanced the idea, for the woman seemed small and the man unusually large.

In desperate haste d.i.c.k now urged on his gallant steed to her best pace, and well did she justify the praises that had been often bestowed on her by Hunky Ben. In a very brief s.p.a.ce of time she was close behind the fugitives, and d.i.c.k was now convinced that his suspicions as to who they were was right. He rode after them with divided feelings--tremblingly anxious lest Mary should fall into the hands of their ruthless foes-- exultantly glad that he had come there in time to fight, or die if need be, in her defence.

Suddenly the male fugitive, who had only glanced over his shoulder from time to time, pulled up, wheeled round, and quickly raised his rifle.

"Hallo! get on, man; don't stop!" d.i.c.k yelled, in a voice worthy of Bull himself. Taking off his hat he waved it violently above his head.

As he spoke he saw the woman's arm flash upwards; a puff of smoke followed, and a bullet whistled close over his head.

Next moment the fugitives had turned and resumed their headlong flight.

A few more minutes sufficed to bring d.i.c.k and the black mare alongside, for the latter was still vigorous in wind and limb, while the poor jaded animals which Mary and her father rode were almost worn out by a prolonged flight.

"d.i.c.k Darvall," exclaimed Jackson, as the former rode up, "I never was gladder to see any man than I am to see you this hour, though but for my Mary I'd surely have sent you to kingdom come. Her ears are better than mine, you see. She recognised the voice an' knocked up my rifle just as I pulled the trigger. But I'm afeared it's too late, lad."

The way in which the man said this, and the look of his pale haggard face, sent a thrill to the heart of d.i.c.k.

"What d'ye mean?" he said, looking anxiously at Mary, who with a set rigid expression on her pale face was looking straight before her, and urging her tired pony with switch and rein.

"I mean, lad, that we've but a poor chance to reach the ranch wi' such knocked-up brutes as these. Of course we can turn at bay an' kill as many o' the red-devils as possible before it's all over wi' us, but what good would that do to Mary? If we could only check the varmins, there might be some hope, but--"

"Jackson!" exclaimed the seaman, in a firm tone, "I'll do my best to check them. G.o.d bless you, Mary--good-bye. Heave ahead, now, full swing!"

As he spoke, d.i.c.k pulled up, while the others continued their headlong flight straight for the ranch, which was by the only a few miles distant.

Wheeling round, d.i.c.k cantered back to the knoll over which they had just pa.s.sed and halted on the top of it. From this position he could see the band, of about fifty Indians, careering towards him and yelling with satisfaction, for they could also see him--a solitary horseman--clear cut against the bright sky.

d.i.c.k got ready his repeating rifle. We have already mentioned the fact that he had learned to load and fire this formidable weapon with great rapidity, though he had signally failed in his attempts to aim with it.

Being well aware of his weakness, he made up his mind in his present desperate extremity not to aim at all! He had always felt that the difficulty of getting the back and front sights of the rifle to correspond with the object aimed at was a slow, and, in his case, an impossible process. He therefore resolved to simply point his weapon and fire!

"Surely," he muttered to himself even in that trying moment, "surely I can't altogether miss a whole bunch o' fifty men an' horses!"

He waited until he thought the savages were within long range, and then, elevating his piece a little, fired.

The result justified his hopes. A horse fell dead upon the plain, and its owner, although evidently unwounded, was for the time _hors de combat_.

True to his plan, d.i.c.k kept up such a quick continuous fire, and made so much noise and smoke, that it seemed as if a whole company of riflemen were at work instead of one man, and several horses on the plain testified to the success of the pointing as compared with the aiming principle!

Of course the fire was partly returned, and for a time the stout seaman was under a pretty heavy rain of bullets, but as the savages fired while galloping their aim was necessarily bad.

This fusillade had naturally the effect of checking the advance of the Indians--especially when they drew near to the reckless man, who, when the snap of his rifle told that his last cartridge was off, wheeled about and fled as fast as Black Polly could lay hoofs to the plain.

And now he found the value of the trustworthy qualities of his steed, for, instead of guiding her out of the way of obstacles, he gave her her head, held tight with his legs, and merely kept an eye on the ground in front to be ready for any swerve, bound, or leap, that might be impending. Thus his hands were set free to re-charge the magazine of his rifle, which he did with deliberate rapidity.

The truth is, that recklessness has a distinct tendency to produce coolness. And there is no one who can afford to be so deliberate, and of whom other men are so much afraid, as the man who has obviously made up his mind to die fighting.

While d.i.c.k was loading-up, Black Polly was encouraged by voice and heel to do her best, and her best was something to see and remember! When the charging was finished, d.i.c.k drew rein and trotted to the next knoll he encountered, from which point he observed with some satisfaction that the fugitives were still pressing on, and that the distance between them and their foe had slightly increased.

But the seaman had not much time to look or think, for the band of Redskins was drawing near. When they came within range he again opened fire. But this time the savages divided, evidently with the intention of getting on both sides of him, and so distracting his attention. He perceived their object at once, and reserved his fire until they turned and with frantic yells made a simultaneous dash on him right and left.

Again he waited till his enemies were close enough, and then opened fire right and left alternately, while the Indians found that they had outwitted themselves and scarcely dared to fire lest the opposite bands should hit each other.

Having expended the second supply of ammunition, d.i.c.k wheeled round and took to flight as before. Of course the mare soon carried him out of range, and again he had the satisfaction of observing that the fugitives had increased their distance from the foe.

"One more check o' this kind," thought d.i.c.k, "and they'll be safe--I think."

While thus thinking he was diligently re-charging, and soon cantered to the top of a third knoll, where he resolved to make his final stand.

The ranch was by that time dimly visible on the horizon, and the weary fugitives were seen struggling towards it. But d.i.c.k found, on halting and looking back, that the Indians had changed their tactics. Instead of directing their attention to himself, as on the previous occasions, they had spread out to the right and left and had scattered, besides keeping well out of range.

"What are the sinners up to now?" muttered the seaman in some perplexity.

He soon perceived that they meant to go past him altogether, if possible, and head towards the fugitives in separate groups.

"Ay, but it's _not_ possible!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, answering his own thoughts as he turned swiftly, and stretched out after his friends.

Seeing this, the savages tried to close in on him from both sides, but their already winded ponies had no chance against the grand Mexican mare, which having been considerately handled during the day's journey was comparatively fresh and in full vigour.

Shooting ahead he now resolved to join his friends and a feeling of triumph began to rise within his breast as he saw them pushing steadily onward. The ranch, however, was still at a considerable distance, while the Indians were rapidly gaining ground.

At that moment to d.i.c.k's horror, the pony which Mary Jackson rode stumbled and fell, sending its rider over its head. But the fair Mary, besides being a splendid horsewoman, was singularly agile and quick in perception. For some time she had antic.i.p.ated the catastrophe, and, at the first indication of a stumble, leaped from the saddle and actually alighted on her feet some yards ahead. Of course she fell with some violence, but the leap broke her fall and probably saved her neck. She sprang up instantly, and grasping the reins, tried to raise her pony.

It was too late. The faithful creature was dead.

Jackson, pulling up, wheeled round and was back at her side instantly.

Almost at the same moment d.i.c.k Darvall came up, threw the mare almost on her haunches, leaped from the saddle, and ran to Mary. As he did so, the crash of a pistol shot at his ear almost deafened him, and a glance showed him that Jackson had shot his horse, which fell dead close to his daughter's pony.

"Kill your horse, d.i.c.k," he growled sharply, as he exerted his great strength to the utmost, and dragged the haunches of his own steed close to the head of the other. "It's our only chance."

d.i.c.k drew his revolver, and aimed at the heart of Black Polly, but for the soul of him he could not pull the trigger.

"No--I won't!" he cried, grasping the la.s.so which always hung at the saddle-bow. "Hobble the fore-legs!"