Our Home in the Silver West Part 19

'Five will do--five Gauchos,' said Dugald.

It was wise of Dugald to choose Gauchos. If the truth must be told, however, he did so to spare more valuable lives. But these wild plainsmen are the bravest of the brave, and are far better versed in the tactics of Indian warfare than any white man could be.

Dugald's plan would have been to issue out and make a bold rush across the open s.p.a.ce of seventy and odd yards that intervened between the moving pile of brushwood and the camp. Had this been done, every man would have been speared ere he got half across.

The preparations for the sally were speedily made. Each man had a revolver and knife in his belt, and carried in his hands matches, a bundle of _pob_ (or tarred yarn), and a small cask of petroleum oil. They issued from the side of the camp farthest from the wood, and, crawling on their faces, took advantage of every tussock of gra.s.s, waving thistle, or hemlock bush in their way. Meanwhile a persistent fire was kept up from behind the breastwork, which, from the screams and yells proceeding from the savages, must have been doing execution.

Presently, close behind the bush and near the ground, Moncrieff could see Dugald's signal, the waving of a white handkerchief, and firing immediately ceased.

Almost immediately afterwards smoke and flames ran all along the wood and increased every moment. There was a smart volley of revolver firing, and in a minute more Dugald and his Gauchos were safe again within the fort.

'Stand by now, lads, to defend the ramparts!' cried Moncrieff; 'the worst is yet to come.'

The worst was indeed to come. For under cover of the smoke the Indians now made ready for their final a.s.sault. In the few minutes of silence that elapsed before the attack, the voice of a Gaucho malo was heard haranguing his men in language that could not but inflame their blood and pa.s.sions.

He spoke of the riches, the wealth of the camp, of the revenge they were going to have on the hated white man who had stolen their hunting fields, and driven them to the barren plains and mountains to seek for food with the puma and the snake, and finally began to talk of the pale-face prisoners that would become their possession.

'Give them another volley, men,' said Moncrieff, grimly. 'Fire low through the smoke.'

It would have been better, probably, had our leader waited.

Little need to precipitate an onslaught that could have but one ending--unless indeed a.s.sistance arrived from the fort.

The long, long hour of waiting came to an end at last, and the commander and myself left the frontier fort at the head of the men.

How terribly tedious the march back seemed! The officer would keep talking as cheerfully as if going to a concert or evening party. I hardly answered, I hardly heard him. I felt ashamed of my anxiety, but still I could not help it. I was but a young soldier.

At last we are within sight, ay, and hearing, of the camp, and the events of the next hour float before my memory now as I write, like the shadowy pantomime of some terrible dream.

First we see smoke and fire, but hear no sound. All must be over, I think--tragedy and ma.s.sacre, all--and the camp is on fire.

Even the commander of our little force takes a serious view of the case now. He draws his sword, looks to his revolver, and speaks to his men in calm, determined tones.

For long minutes the silence round the camp is unbroken, but suddenly rifles ring out in the still air, and I breathe more freely once again.

Then the firing ceases, and is succeeded by the wild war-cries of the attacking savages, and the hoa.r.s.e, defiant slogan of the defending Scots.

'Hurrah!' I shout, 'we are yet in time. Oh, good sir, hurry on! Listen!'

Well might I say listen, for now high above the yell of savages and ring of revolvers rises the shriek of frightened women.

I can stand this no longer. I set spur to my horse, and go dashing on towards the camp.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE FLIGHT AND THE CHASE.

The very last thing I had seen that cool Argentine commander do, was to light a fresh cigarette with the stump of the old one. The next time I saw him, he was standing by his wounded horse, in the moonlight, with a spear wound in his brow, but smoking still.

The onslaught of the savages had been for a while a terrible one, but the soldiers came in time, and the camp was saved.

Hardly knowing what I did--not knowing till this day how I did it--I had put my good steed at the breastwork, and, tired though he was, he fairly cleared it. Next I remember hewing my way, sword in hand, through a crowd of spear-armed savages, finding myself close to the ladies' caravan, and next minute inside it.

A single glance showed me all were safe. Aileen lay pale and motionless on the sofa. Near her, revolver in hand, stood my brave aunt, and by the stove was old Jenny herself.

'Oh, bless you, dear boy!' cried auntie. 'How glad we are to see you!'

"Deed are we, laddie!' chimed old Jenny; 'but--' and she grinned as she spoke, 'they rievin' Philistines will be fools if they come this road again. I've gi'en some o' them het [hot] hurdies. Ha, ha! I'm makin' a drap mair for them in case they come again.'

'Poor thing!' I think; 'she has gone demented.'

There was no time now, however, to ask for explanation; for although the Indians had really been driven off, the chase, and, woe is me, the slaughter, had commenced.

And I shudder even yet when I think of that night's awful work on the moonlit pampas. Still, the sacrifice of so many redskins was calculated to insure our safety. Moreover, had our camp fallen into the hands of those terrible Indians, what a blood-blotted page would have been added to the history of the Silver West!

It is but just and fair to Moncrieff, however, to say that he did all in his power to stay the pursuit; but in vain. The soldiers were just returning, tired and breathless, from a fruitless chase after the now panic-stricken enemy, when a wild shout was heard, and our Gauchos were seen riding up from the woods, brandishing the very spears they had captured from the Indians, and each one leading a spare horse.

The _soldados_ welcomed them with a shout. Next minute each was mounted and galloping across the pampas in one long extended line.

They were going to treat the Indians to a taste of their own tactics, for between each horse a la.s.so rope was fastened.

All our men who were safe and unwounded now clambered into the waggon to witness the pursuit. Nothing could exceed the mad grandeur of that charge--nothing could withstand that wild rash. The Indians were mowed down by the la.s.so lines, then all we could see was a dark commingled ma.s.s of rearing horses, of waving swords and spears, and struggling, writhing men.

Yells and screams died away at last, and no sound was now heard on the pampas except the thunder of the horses' hoofs, as our people returned to the camp, and occasionally the trumpet-like notes of the startled flamingoes.

As soon as daylight began to appear in the east the ramparts were razed, and soon after we were once more on the move, glad to leave the scene of battle and carnage.

From higher ground, at some distance, I turned and looked back. Already the air was darkened by flocks of pampas kites, among them many slow-winged vultures, and I knew the awful feast that ever follows slaughter had already commenced.

We had several Gauchos killed and one of our own countrymen, but many more were wounded, some severely enough, so that our victory had cost us dear, and yet we had reason to be thankful, and my only surprise to this day is that we escaped utter annihilation.

It would be anything but fair to pa.s.s on to other scenes without mentioning the part poor old Jenny played in the defence of the caravan.

Jenny was not demented--not she. Neither the fatigue of the journey, the many wonders she had witnessed, including the shower of golochs, nor the raid upon the camp had deprived Moncrieff's wonderful mither of her wits.

I have said there was a stove burning in the caravan. As soon, then, as Jenny found out that they were fortifying or entrenching the camp, and that the Philistines, as she called them, might be expected at any moment, she awoke to a true sense of the situation. The first thing she did was to replenish the fire, then she put the biggest saucepan on top of the stove, and as soon as it commenced to boil she began 'mealing in,' as she called it.

'Oatmeal would have been best,' she told my aunt; 'but, after a',' she added, 'Indian meal, though it be but f.e.c.kless stuff, is the kind o' kail they blackamoors are maist used to.'

Aunt wondered what she meant, but was silent, and, indeed, she had other things to think about than Jenny and her strange doings, for Aileen required all her attention.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'Ye can Claw the Pat']

When, however, the fight had reached its very fiercest, when the camp itself was enveloped in smoke, and the constant cracking of revolvers, the shrieks of the wounded men and clashing of weapons would have daunted a less bold heart than Jenny's--the old lady took her saucepan from the stove and stationed herself by the front door of the caravan. She had not long to wait. Three of the fiercest of the Indian warriors had sprung to the _coupe_ and were half up,