The Peril Finders Part 87

There was a furious yell of rage at this, and a feeling of satisfaction thrilled through the boy's frame as his busy fingers opened and closed the breech of his rifle. But the triumph was only short-lived.

_Whizz_--_thud_, another arrow was loosed off from the string, striking the pony low-down in the chest. The poor animal uttered a groan that was almost human in its tones, as it plunged and wrenched itself round, to stand biting at the place where the arrow stuck out, snapping it in two, and nearly unseating its rider, as well as robbing him of the power to fire again, for his side was now towards the foe. Worse still, the pony's change of front presented the whole flank to the enemy, who responded with a yell of triumph by sending in a couple more arrows, both of which hit.

In an instant the poor brute was erect upon its hind-legs, overbalancing itself and falling backward, Chris saving himself by throwing himself sidewise, while as he scrambled up, holding on tightly to his rifle, he turned to fire, fully expecting that the Indians would dash in; but the muzzle of the presented rifle was too formidable for them--they knew its power, and they kept on cantering along, yelling with delight.

Meanwhile the pony was kicking wildly and tearing at the turf as it lay upon its side.

Chris did not attempt to fire, but obeyed the impulse of trying to get his mount to rise again, with the full intent of flinging himself upon its back and galloping in desperation through the enemy.

Two arrows whizzed by him, for his motion, consequent upon the pony's struggles and his efforts to avoid the poor brute's hoofs, was so rapid that he formed a bad b.u.t.t for a galloping horseman, and so escaped for the moment.

"Up--up, old chap!" he shouted, as he caught hold of the rein, and in obedience to the familiar voice the brave little beast made a desperate effort, and gained its feet, uttering an almost human shriek. Then with a bound it threw up its head, nearly s.n.a.t.c.hing the rein from its master's hand, plunging and kicking wildly.

"Keep still--wo-ho!--quiet!" cried Chris; but in vain, and doubtless fortunately for himself, for he was dragged here and there by the frantic steed, quite ignorant of the direction the pony's struggles led him, but always just out of the course of arrow after arrow, some of which flew wide, while others nearly grazed him, but not one hit.

The thought that dominated all others now in Chris's mind was that he must let go. He had nearly been down twice; then he had stumbled over one of the stones which lay thickly here and there; the pony's hoof grazed his side as, mad with rage and pain, it tore away from him, giving a sudden s.n.a.t.c.h in its effort to get free from the rein Chris had twisted round his hand.

For the moment the boy felt that his shoulder was dislocated; then he knew that he had lost his foothold and was being dragged over the ground; and the very next moment, as a terrific yell smote his ears, it seemed to be cut off short and to sound distant, for he was falling through the air, to strike somewhere heavily, roll over and feel that he was gliding down amidst stones and loosened earth. Then he was checked again, hanging as it were for a moment before commencing another slide shorter than the last, for he was brought up with a sharp shock against a stone, to which he clung, just as he heard a dull crash somewhere beneath him, and the sound of hoofs tearing at stones, which kept on clattering down in an avalanche, to keep up a loud, heavy, rattling noise, but all far below.

In spite of the horrible excitement and confusion, Chris's brain was clear enough. His left arm felt useless, and his shoulder throbbed, but he was quite conscious that his head was not injured, and perfectly well aware that he had stuck to the rein till the unfortunate pony had dragged him to the edge of the precipice at the head of the valley, and then, mad with pain, gone over, to be lying somewhere below.

But not dead yet, for every now and then the sound of the poor beast's hoofs came up, striking at loose stones and sending more and more clattering down into the valley.

And then for a few moments the boy turned sick, and loosing his hold of his gun, which lay half under him, he clung with all his might to the stone which had checked his further downward progress; for the new thought which had attacked him was that if he did not hold fast he would fall--fall--down the dizzy height into the black darkness of the end.

As he lay there clinging with all his might he was conscious of a wild gabble of voices in an unknown tongue, somewhere above him, and then as if out of a mist a stone fell, struck that to which he clung, and glanced off, to be heard no more. But another small stone came rattling down, in company with some earth, and opening his eyes he found himself staring upward at the edge of the cliff and the narrow, earthy and stony cleft down which he had fallen, recognising it even then as the probable bed of the torrent, that had at some time or other flowed over the riven cliff to plunge into the depths below.

The loud talking right above cleared away the last of the giddy feeling of faintness, but only for him to be face to face with a fresh horror, for all at once another arrow whizzed by, but yards away, and looking up he could see the head of an Indian whose eyes glistened in the sunshine as he peered down as if to look for the effect of the arrow he had dispatched.

Then another head appeared, and the talking increased. Men were shouting, and apparently the shouts were orders, and more heads appeared. Stones and earth crumbled down too, and another arrow whizzed by and struck somewhere near; but it did not seem to come straight down, while another sent directly after evidently came from away to his right.

"They can't reach over far enough to get a good aim at me," thought Chris then, with a strange sense of resignation to the inevitable making him feel calm and patient in his utter helplessness. He could hear the pony strike out again and the stones the poor beast dislodged go clattering down, and then there was a peculiar rushing sound, and small broken pieces and earth began to fall near him, making him strain his eyes once more to see whence they came.

He knew the next moment, for a shout reached his ears, coming from above, and the legs of an Indian pa.s.sed into sight, then the whole of his body, as more stones crumbled down, and as the boy watched he made out plainly enough that one of his enemies had lowered himself down, crept sidewise, and had just reached a ledge far above him and a little on one side, where he was busy settling himself in a sitting position before drawing his bow from his back and proceeding to fit an arrow to the string.

The look of triumph in the man's painted face was clear enough in the bright morning air. His teeth glistened as he smiled, and Chris clung still not daring to move, but ready to smile as the thought occurred even then, Why shouldn't I let go and fall, so as to disappoint this malicious savage of his attempt to slay?

But it was all like a terrible waking dream to Chris, who lay there conscious of the fact that several of the man's comrades were peering over the edge of the cliff watching his efforts and now waiting to see the successful shot.

It seemed a long time after the nock of the arrow was fitted to the sinew string before, setting his feet against a stone and his back firmly against the perpendicular at the back of the shelf he had gained, the Indian fixed his eyes on his victim and deliberately drew the arrow to the head.

But the effort made in a very critical position caused one foot to slip a little, and slackening the string, the savage shifted his foot, and as soon as he had satisfied himself that he was not likely to slip and plunge headlong down into the valley, he drew the arrow to the head again.

But once more, as with starting eyes Chris watched for the loosing of the shaft, there was a check in the proceedings. For, after lying quite still for some minutes, the pony uttered a loud neigh and began to kick and paw at the stones amongst which he lay, sending a fresh avalanche down into the valley.

The Indian started like a wild beast at the sound, and his sharp eyes were turned to gaze downward as he reached out a little. But apparently satisfied that the sound was not the prelude to an attack, he once more settled himself down and--quickly now, in response to a shout from the Indians above him--drew his arrow to the head.

Chris tried to close his eyes, but his nerves and muscles were rigid as the bow tw.a.n.ged, and he noted that the arrow pa.s.sed like a flash, high up above his head, as he saw the savage spring up standing on the ledge, clap his hand to his breast, and curving himself backward as his knees bent, fall outward and come down to strike the side of the cliff a couple of dozen yards away, level with the stone to which his intended victim clung. Then he bounded off to descend swiftly, drawing himself up like a ball, and pa.s.s out of sight, but only to fall with a sickening crash not far from where a little puff of smoke had darted out in the bottom of the valley, to be followed by a sharp crack which echoed from the cliffs and re-echoed twice, to mingle with a chorus of yells from the edge where a score of Indians stood peering over to try and see where their companion had struck.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

HOW TO TURN ROUND.

There was another puff of smoke, and another, followed by their cracks and echoes; a few moments' pause, and two more, with the result that every Indian on the ledge disappeared, two of them falling p.r.o.ne, to lie motionless, the others to hurry to where their companions held the reins that had been pa.s.sed to them.

Chris saw nothing of this, but at every report coming from down in the depression his heart leaped, knowing as he did that the sharp cracks were the reports of rifles, and that these could only be fired by his friends.

From clinging there half stunned and perfectly inert, he felt a thrill of energy begin to move within him--a thrill which became a spasm as all at once he saw something moving that looked like an animal crawling over the edge of the cliff about fifty feet diagonally away from where he lay.

As the object pa.s.sed from behind some intervening trees he could see plainly enough that it was an Indian grasping a bow, and the top of his quiver could be seen above his shoulder.

Chris was alert now, and grasped the fact that this was another of the enemy making his way down to a big patch of pensile growth which would afford him cover, from whence he could direct his arrows either at his watcher or at those who had fired upward from the valley.

"Could I?" he asked himself, with the desire for life once more throbbing strongly in his veins.

He began to prove his position. He had lain clinging with all his might to that stone ever since he had fallen, in the full belief that if he slackened his hold he would glide off into the depths and fall to the bottom; but as in his calmer frame of mind he began to test this, he found that loosening his desperate grasp made no difference, that where he lay was fairly level, and that he was safe enough so long as he could retain his nerve.

His left arm ached violently, but there was nothing the matter with his right, and to his great satisfaction his rifle was beside him, with pouch, pistol, and hunting-knife.

He began to examine his rifle-lock, and found all was right there, and that by moving a little he could place the stone between himself and his enemy so that he would not only have a breastwork over which to fire, but a protection to turn aside arrows sent for his destruction.

He turned cautiously aside, for he felt that cunning eyes might be watching him; but in spite of the caution he could not evade the quick glance of the watching enemy.

Chris grasped the fact, and quick as thought, as his rifle now rested upon the top of the stone, brought the sight to bear upon the Indian.

It was to save his life, he knew, for his enemy was as quick in his movements as he, with the result that a well-aimed arrow flashed across the intervening distance like a ray of light, which was quenched in the puff of white smoke which darted from the boy's rifle. Then simultaneously with the report there was a sharp _click_, and the tough reed-like piece of wood glanced away, diverted from the object at which it was aimed, while as Chris peered with starting eyes over the top of the stone which had saved him from a grievous wound, if not from death, he saw beneath the smoke which floated upwards another of the Indians rolling over three or four times before descending into the depths below with ever-gathering speed.

There was another chorus of yells from overhead, and though he could not see them, Chris felt a.s.sured that the enemy were raging about the top of the cliff, seeking to send arrows at him; and he had additional proof of this being a fact, for _crack_!--_crack_!--_crack_!--_crack_! four reports came from below, with what effect he could not tell, but it seemed certain that his friends had fired at the enemy, whose yelling ceased, a strange and terrible silence succeeding the cries.

Chris re-loaded his empty barrel and looked sharply in several directions, mostly in that from which danger had shown itself, and with the full intention of firing at the first enemy who tried to reach the spot which commanded his resting-place. But the silence continued, and there was no sign of a renewed attack.

Then all at once there was a fresh beating of the pony's hoofs from below, where everything was hidden. This was followed by a sharp scrambling sound, and again by a tremendous rush as of earth and stones sliding down for awhile before reaching the bottom with a crash.

"My poor nag!" groaned Chris, and in imagination he saw the crushed and bleeding body of the st.u.r.dy little steed lying motionless amidst the heap of stones.

The fancy was so horribly vivid that he shivered as if from a cold wind pa.s.sing over him, while all the time he was bathed with perspiration.

The old dread of slipping from the narrow ledge upon which he lay came back, and with a terrible feeling of despair he waited for the moment when he would again be falling swiftly through the air to share the fate of his mount.

He had just reached this point when, sounding rather faint and distant but perfectly clear, he heard a familiar voice calling him by name.

But in his state of painful agitation he could make no reply, only lie motionless and ready to ask himself whether he had not conjured up the call himself.

But it was no fancy! It was his father's voice, sounding as if sent forth with a great effort between hands held on either side of the speaker's lips.

"Chris! Chris!" And perfectly clearly now a repet.i.tion of the words in a husky whisper from somewhere close at hand.