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Mass' George Part 59

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"There it is. Wait till it comes close. I'll try and manage to get you near it."

"Dah it am! Whah?"

"There, just off to your left."

"So um are, Ma.s.s' George. 'Gator no like um, an' 'pit um out 'gain."

"There: mind! Now then, quick! Catch hold."

I had managed to check the boat enough to let the oar overtake us, and Pomp made a s.n.a.t.c.h at it, but drew back sharply with a low cry of horror.

"What's the matter now?" I said. "Make haste; you'll lose it."

"Great big Injum down dah," he whispered, hoa.r.s.ely. "Um want to bite off poor Pomp arm."

"Nonsense! How could an Indian be there?" I said, as we floated on side by side with the oar.

"Injum? Pomp say great big 'gator. You look, Ma.s.s' George."

"You said Indian, Pomp," I continued, as I drew in my oar, picked up the boat-hook, and went cautiously to the side to look down into the transparent water, where, sure enough, one of the reptiles was swimming along; but it was quite a small one, and a sharp dig down with the boat-hook sent it undulating away, and I recovered the oar, pa.s.sing it to Pomp with a gesture, as there arose once more a cry from the forest right away back, and it was answered in two places.

Pomp took the oar and began to row again steadily, staring back at the sandspit, now fast growing distant. Then all at once, as the faint cry arose from the forest--

"Dat not Injum," he cried sharply; "dat fock."

"Fox!" I said, recalling the little jackal-like creatures, of which I had seen one or two that had been shot by Morgan.

"Yes, dat fock. Um shout like dat to noder fock in um wood when um lose umself."

"Yes, but that would be at night," I said, wondering whether he was right.

"'Pose um lose umself in de day. Make um cry?"

"No," I said, thoughtfully. "It is like the cry of the fox, Pomp, but I think it's the Indians making it."

"Why Injum cry out like fock when um can cry like Injum?"

"To deceive any one who hears them."

"What deceive?" said Pomp.

"Cheat--trick."

"Oh!" he said, and we rowed on steadily hour after hour, realising how we must have increased our distance from home in the night.

Sometimes as we swept round one of the river bends we encountered a breath of fresh air, but mostly deep down in that narrow way winding through the forest the heat was intense; and there were times when, as I paused to sweep the perspiration from my face, I felt that I must give up, and lie down at the bottom of the boat.

But almost invariably at these times I heard faintly what I believed to be the Indians calling to each other as they came on through the forest; and in the hope that perhaps after all we had got the start, and would reach home in time to give the alarm, I tugged at my oar again, and so long as I rowed Pomp never for a moment flagged.

But I could not keep his tongue quiet. Now he would be making derisively defiant remarks about the 'gators; then he had something disparaging to say about the Indians; and when I spoke to him angrily he would be quiet for a time, but only to burst out with reproaches at me for calling him a "'tupid lil n.i.g.g.e.r."

Nothing ever hurt Pomp's feelings more than that term, which seemed to him the very extreme of reviling, and always went straight to his heart.

It was getting toward evening, and a rich orange glow was beginning to glorify the long reach of the river down which we were rowing-- sluggishly now, for we were both tired out--when it struck me that I had not heard the cry for some time now, and I made the remark to Pomp.

"No; fock gone asleep now till de moon get up. Den fock get up too, an'

holler."

"No, Pomp," I said, "it's the Indians, and they are silent because they are getting near the house now."

"So Pomp get near de house, and don't care for de Injum. He so dreffle hungry."

So was I; but my intense anxiety drove away all that, and I tried to tug harder at the oar, for I knew that we were near home now; familiar trees and corners of the stream kept coming into view, and I was just thinking that very soon I should be able to look behind me and see our landing-place, when a faintly-heard hail came along the river.

We both turned sharply, and Pomp exclaimed in words what I only too gratefully saw--

"Dah de capen an Ma.s.s' Morgan in 'noder boat. Wha my fader too?"

I stood up for a moment and waved my hand, and then sat down, and we both pulled our best, after Pomp had grumbled a little, and wanted to let the boat float down alone.

A few minutes later I was holding on to the gunwale of the strange boat in which my father was seated, almost too much exhausted to speak.

"I was getting uneasy about you, my boy," my father said, "for there have been some fresh rumours at the settlement about Indians, and Morgan went round and borrowed this boat; we were coming on to see after you.

Why, George, is anything the matter?"

"Yes, father," I panted. "The Indians--they are coming on."

"No," said Pomp sharply, and he struck his hand on the side of the boat to emphasise his words. "Ma.s.s' George hear de fock--lose him lil self an holler, and he only tink it de--Ah, look! Look, Ma.s.s' George, look!

Who dat?"

He pointed back up the steam, where at the edge of the bank that the river swept round previous to pa.s.sing along the straight reach, there stood two tall figures, their feathers and wild dress thrown up by the bright glare of the setting sun. They were evidently reconnoitring, and though we saw them clearly for a few seconds, the next moment they seemed to have died away.

"Indians," said my father, drawing in his breath with a low hiss; "and we must not neglect this warning. Morgan, I'll get in here with the boys; you go back, make your boat fast at the landing-place, and run up to the house, and bring your wife and Hannibal down."

"But the things in the house, sir?"

"Lives are of more importance than chattels, man," said my father, in his sternest and most military way. "Tell your wife she is to stop for nothing, but to come."

"An' s'pose she won't, sir?" said Morgan sharply.

"Carry her," said my father laconically, as he stepped into our boat and pushed the other off.

"But bring nothing else, sir?" said Morgan, piteously.

"Yes; two guns, and all the ammunition you can carry; but be quick, man, we shall be waiting at the landing-place. The Indians are coming in earnest now. We shall stop till you come, and open fire if it is necessary." My father capped the gun he had brought from the boat.

"Stop. Hand me your gun and pouches."

Morgan gave a stroke or two with his oar, and brought the boats alongside of each other again, then handed the gun to me.

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Mass' George Part 59 summary

You're reading Mass' George. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): George Manville Fenn. Already has 548 views.

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