The Jucklins Part 8

"Do you think they will shoot through them?" I asked.

He halted, with the end of a bench in his grasp, and looked at me.

"Bill, if I didn't know better I'd swear that you are not of the South.

Don't you know that if you enrage white trash it is likely to do anything? Don't you know that consequences are never counted?"

"I know all that," I replied, "but I was considering the incentive. I know that if you give the Cracker a cause he will do most anything, but have I given him a cause?"

"You have given him all the excuse he wants. One more bench. That's it.

And now the fury of their fight will depend upon the quant.i.ty of liquor they have with them. I didn't tell any of the home folks that I was coming here--told them that I might meet you and that we might not be home until late. I wouldn't be surprised----"

Out in the woods there was the blunt bark of a short gun, the window gla.s.s was splintered in a circle, a sharp zip and a piece of the clay "c.h.i.n.king" flew from the opposite wall.

"What did I tell you?" said Alf, looking at me as if pleased with the proof of his forecast. "You get over on that side and I'll stay here.

Get down on the floor and look through between the logs if you can find a place, and if you can't punch out the dirt, but be easy; they might see you. There he is again." The gla.s.s in the other window was shattered. "That's all right," said Alf. "They may charge on us after a while, and then we'll let them have it. Have you found a place?"

"I have made one," I answered, lying flat on the floor, gazing out. No shot had been fired from my side, and I had begun to think that the entire force was confronting Alf when in the sobering light I saw a man standing beside a tree not more than fifty yards distant. He appeared to be talking to some one, for I saw him look round and nod his head. I did not want to kill him, although the law was plainly on my side, but a man may stand shoulder to shoulder with the law and yet wound his own conscience. Another figure came within sight, among the bushes, appearing to rise out of the leafy darkness, and then there came a loud shout: "Come out of there, you coward!"

"Don't say a word," said Alf. "They are trying to locate you. I don't see anybody yet, and it's getting most too dark now. But I reckon we'd both better fire to let them know that there is more than one of us. We don't want to take any advantage of them, you know," he added, laughing.

"It doesn't look as if we were," I answered. "I could kill one of them, Alf."

"The devil you could! Then do it. Here, let me get at him."

"No," I replied, waving him off from my peep-hole. "It is better not to kill him until we are forced to."

"But we are forced to now, don't you see? They've shot at us. There you are!" They had fired a volley, it seemed. "Let me get at him," said Alf.

"I'll try him," I replied. And I poked the barrel of my pistol through the crack, pretended to take a careful aim and fired.

"Did you get him?" Alf asked.

"Don't know; can't see very well."

"Well, if I find one of them he's gone," he replied, returning to his own look-out. And a moment later the almost simultaneous discharge of both barrels of his gun jarred the house. "Don't know whether I got him or not," he said, as he drew back and began to reload, "for I couldn't see very well, but I'll bet he thinks a hurricane came along through the bushes. It's too dark now to see anything and all we can do is to wait."

"Wait for what?" I asked.

"Wait for them to try to break in. They'll try it after they have had a few more pulls at the bottle, I think. Now let's keep perfectly quiet and watch."

The moon had not yet risen and the woods stood about us like a black wall. No wind was abroad, the air in the house was close, and I could hear my own heart beating against the floor. There was scarcely any use to look out now, for nothing could be seen, and I arose and sat with my back against the wall, taking care to keep clear of the small opening which I had made. It was so dark in the room that I could not see Alf, but I could hear him, for softly he was humming a tune: "Hi, Bettie Martin, tip-toe fine." For days he had been heavy with the melancholy of his love, but now in this hour of danger his heart seemed to be light and attuned to a rollicking air. I have known many a man to breathe a delicious thrill in an atmosphere of peril, to feel a leap of the blood, a gladness, but it was at a time of intense excitement, a sort of epic joy; but how could a man, lying in the dark, waiting for he knew not what--how could he put down a weighty care and take up a lightsome tune?

Down in the hollow a screech owl was crying, and his mate on the hill-top replied to his call, while in the room near me was the whif of a bat. And Alf was now so silent that I thought he must have fallen asleep, but soon I heard him softly whistling: "Hi, Bettie Martin, tip-tip-toe fine."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," said I. "If you had brought a fiddle we might have a dance."

I heard him t.i.tter as he wallowed on the floor. "This is fun," he said, "the only real fun I've had since--I was going to say since the war, but I was too young to go into society at that time."

"What do you think they are up to now, Alf?" I asked.

"Blamed if I know. Getting tired?"

"Well, I don't want to stay here all night. What are we waiting for?"

"It's hard to tell just at present, and if we don't get a more encouraging report pretty soon we'll break the engagement and go home.

What's that?"

I listened and at first heard nothing, and was just about to say that it must be the screech-owl come closer, when from a corner of the house there came a distant and sharp crackle. I heard Alf scuffle to his feet.

"We are in for it!"

It was true, for now we could see the light glaring on the bushes and a moment later a spear of light shot inward, revealing my friend standing there with his hands buried deep in his pockets. "Those old logs are as dry as a powder horn," he carelessly remarked. "Won't take long to burn the thing down."

"But what are we going to do?" I cried. And now the room was aglow, and shadows were dancing on the wall.

"I was just thinking," said he, looking about. "They'll begin shooting in here as soon as that end is burned out. Wish I had seen that rascal when he slipped up here to kindle this fire. h.e.l.loa, it's spread to the roof."

I strove to show him that I could be as calm and as careless as he, but now I was startled, and excitedly exclaimed: "We shall be burned up like rats in a barn!"

"Oh, I reckon not. Here, let's pull up a plank out of the floor and crawl under and if we can get into the bushes we'll be all right.

Here's a crack. But I can't move it," he added, after straining at the board. "See if you can get your fingers through here."

I dropped upon my knees and thrust my fingers through the crack. The fire had now gained such headway that the air was hot and a glare danced on the wall where the shadow had crept; and we heard the Aimes boys yell in the woods a short distance off. With all my strength I pulled at the board; I got off my knees and braced myself, and with a quick jerk the board came up with a loud rip and I fell backward on the floor.

"Go ahead," said Alf, quietly standing there, with his gun under his arm. "Get down through and work your way toward the other end."

"You go first, Alf."

"I'm in no hurry. But may be I know of an opening where the sheep come under in winter. Follow me, then."

Down we went into the fine and suffocating dust. Here and there the sheep and the hogs had dug deep beds in their restlessness, when nights had been cold, but in places the floor was so close to the ground that I could scarcely crawl through. We heard one end of the roof fall in, and then a volley was fired from the woods.

"What did I tell you?" said Alf. "We understand their tactics, any way.

Don't believe you can get through here, Bill. Wait, I can dig down this lump with my gun. Wish I had a hatchet. Ever notice how handy a hatchet is?"

"For G.o.d's sake, let me get at it, Alf. I can feel the heat. The whole thing will fall down on us in a minute. That'll do; I can squeeze through."

Alf crawled into one of the deep beds and reached back to help pull me through. "Bill, looks like this place was made for you, only I wish they had made it a trifle bigger. Once more."

And there I struggled and there he pulled. "I am gone, Alf; I can't get out. Save yourself if you can."

"If you can't get out I know you are not gone, Bill," he replied with a laugh, but it was a laugh of despair rather than of merriment. "Don't give up. Once more. You are coming. What did I tell you?" And again he laughed, but not in despair. We were now at the wall, at the very hole through which the sheep were wont to come in. "You first, this time, Bill. Sheer off to the left. The bushes are not more than fifteen feet away."

With but little difficulty I squeezed through the opening. And now I was in a hot and dazzling glare. A breeze had sprung up with the flames, and behind me was a roar, and a crash of the falling beams. I looked not about me, but straight ahead toward the thicket, now waving as if swept by a strong wind; and within a minute after reaching the outer air I was crawling through a thick clump of blackberry briars, with Alf close upon my heels. We soon came upon a sheep-walk covered with briars, and now we could make faster time. The Aimes boys were still firing into the burning house, and it was evident that they had not discovered our escape.

"We can walk now," Alf whispered. "Turn down here to the right and keep the shumac bushes between us and them. Now we are all right."

Not another word was spoken until we had reached a knoll, some distance away. Then we halted and looked back. And now the old house was but a blazing heap. Alf was peeping about through the trees, and suddenly his gaze was set. He c.o.c.ked his gun and brought it to his shoulder.

"No," I said. "You will only regret it." I grasped the gun and both hammers fell upon my hand. "Get back!" he commanded.