The Silver Canyon Part 38

"What's the danger?" cried Bart, leaping ash.o.r.e and un-slinging his rifle.

"Injun, my lad; don't you see 'em? they're coming down the canyon. This way. Never mind the fish; make straight for the chimney. We can hold that again 'em anyhow."

_Crack_--_crack_! went a couple of rifles from some distance up the river, and the bullets cut the boughs of the trees above their heads.

Bart's immediate idea was to sink down amongst the herbage for cover and return the shot, but the Beaver made a rush at him, shouting, "No, no, no!" and taking his place, began to return the fire of the approaching Indians, bidding Bart escape.

"I don't like leaving all that fish after all, Master Bart," said Joses; "they'd be so uncommon good up yonder. Go it, you skunks! fire away, and waste your powder! Yah! What bad shots your savages are! I don't believe they could hit our mountain upstairs there! Hadn't we better stop and drive them back, Beaver, and let the greasers carry away the fish?"

_Crack_--_crack_--_crack_! rattled the rifles; and as the faint puffs of smoke could be seen rising above the bushes and rocks high up the canyon, the sounds of the firing echoed to and from the rocky sides till they died away in the distance, and it seemed at last, as the firing grew a little hotter, and was replied to briskly by Joses and the Indians, that fifty or sixty people were firing on either side.

The attack was so fairly responded to that the Apaches were checked for the time, and Joses raised himself from the place he had made his rifle-pit, and called to the Mexican greasers to run and pick up the fish, while he and the Indians covered them; but though he called several times, not one responded.

"What's come of all them chaps, Master Bart?" he cried.

"I think they all got to the chimney, and began to climb up," replied Bart.

"Just like 'em," growled Joses. "My word, what a brave set o' fellows they are! I don't wonder at the Injun looking down upon 'em and making faces, as if they was an inferior kind of beast. Ah, would you?"

Joses lowered himself down again, for a bullet had whizzed by in unpleasant proximity to his head.

"Are you hurt, Joses?" cried Bart, half rising to join him.

"Keep down, will you, Master Bart! Hurt me? No. They might hit you.

I say, have you fired yet?"

"Yes, three times," replied Bart; "but I fired over their heads to frighten them."

"Hark at that!" cried Joses; "just as if that would frighten an Injun.

It would make him laugh and come close, because you were such a bad shot. It does more harm than good, my lad."

_Crack_!

Joses' rifle uttered its sharp report just then, and the firing ceased from a spot whence shot after shot had been coming with the greatest regularity, and the rough fellow turned grimly to his young companion.

"I don't like telling you to do it, Master Bart, because you're such a young one, and it seems, of course, shocking to say shoot men. But then you see these ain't hardly like men; they're more like rattlesnakes. We haven't done them no harm, and we don't want to do them no harm, but all the same they will come and they'll kill the lot of us if they can; so the time has come when you must help us, for you're a good shot, my lad, and every bullet you put into the Injun means one more chance for us to save our scalps, and help the Doctor with his plans."

"Must I fire _at_ them then, Joses?" said Bart, sadly.

"Yes, my lad, you must. They're five or six times as many as we are, and they're coming slowly on, creeping from bush to bush, so as to get a closer shot at us. There, I tell you what you do; fire at their chests, aim right at the painted skull they have there. That'll knock 'em down and stop 'em, and it'll comfort you to think that they may get better again."

"Don't talk foolery, Joses," cried Bart, angrily, "Do you think I'm a child?"

Joses chuckled, and took aim at a bush that stood above a clump of rocks, one from which another Indian was firing regularly; but just then the Beaver's rifle sent forth its bullet, and Bart saw an Indian spring up on to the rocks, utter a fierce yell, shake his rifle in the air, and then fall headlong into the river.

"Saved my charge," said Joses, grimly. "There, I won't fool about with you, Master Bart, but tell you the plain truth. It's struggle for life out here; kill or be killed; and you must fight for yourself and your friends like a man. For it isn't only to serve yourself, lad, but others. It's stand by one another out here, man by man, and make enemies feel that you are strong, or else make up your mind to go under the gra.s.s."

Bart sighed and shuddered, for he more than once realised the truth of what his companion said. But he hesitated no longer, for these savages were as dangerous as the rattlesnakes of the plains, and he felt that however painful to his feelings, however dreadful to have to shed human blood, the time had come when he must either stand by his friends like a man, or slink off like a cur.

Bart accepted the stern necessity, and watching the approach of the Indians, determined only to fire when he saw pressing need.

The consequence was that a couple of minutes later he saw an Indian dart from some bushes, and run a dozen yards to a rock by the edge of the swift river, disappear behind it, and then suddenly his head and shoulders appeared full in Bart's view; the Indian took quick aim, and as the smoke rose from his rifle the Beaver uttered a low hissing sound, and Bart knew that he was. .h.i.t.

Not seriously apparently, for there was a shot from his hiding-place directly after, and then Bart saw the Indian slowly draw himself up into position again, partly over the top of the rock, from whence he was evidently this time taking a long and careful aim at the brave chief, who was risking his life for the sake of his English friends.

Bart hesitated no longer. Joses had said that he was a good shot. He was, and a quick one; and never was his prowess more needed than at that moment, when, with trembling hands, he brought his rifle to bear upon the shoulders of the savage. Then for a moment his muscles felt like iron; he drew the trigger, and almost simultaneously the rifle of the savage rang out. Then, as the smoke cleared away, Bart saw him standing erect upon the rock, clutching at vacancy, before falling backwards into the river with a tremendous splash; and as Bart reloaded, his eyes involuntarily turned towards the rushing stream, and he saw the inanimate body swept swiftly by.

"What have I done!" he gasped, as the cold sweat broke out upon his brow. "Horrible! What a deed to do!" and his eyes seemed fixed upon the river in the vain expectation of seeing the wretched savage come into sight again.

Just then he felt a touch upon his arm, and turning sharply found himself face to face with the Beaver, whose shoulder was scored by a bullet wound, from which the blood trickled slowly down over his chest.

As Bart faced him he smiled, and grasped the lad's hand, pressing it between both of his.

"Saved Beaver's life," he said, softly. "Beaver never forgets. Bart is brave chief."

Bart felt better now, and he had no time for farther thought, the peril in which they were suddenly appearing too great.

For the Beaver pointed back to where the chimney offered the way of escape.

"Time to go," the Beaver said. "Come."

And, setting the example, he began to creep from cover to cover, after uttering a low cry, to which his followers responded by imitating their leader's actions.

"Keep down low, Master Bart," whispered Joses. "That's the way. The chimney's only about three hundred yards back. We shall soon be there, and then we can laugh at these chaps once we get a good start up. We must leave the fish though, worse luck. There won't be so many of 'em to eat it though as there was at first. Hallo! How's that?"

The reason for his exclamation was a shot that whizzed by him--one fired from a long way down the canyon in the way they were retreating, and, to Bart's horror, a second and a third followed from the same direction, with the effect that the savages who had attacked first gave a triumphant yell, and began firing quicker than before.

"Taken between two fires, Master Bart," said Joses, coolly; "and if we don't look out they'll be up to the chimney before we can get there, and then--"

"We must sell our lives as dearly as we can, Joses," cried Bart.

"Good, lad--good, lad!" replied Joses, taking deadly aim at one of the Indians up the river, and firing; "but my life ain't for sale. I want it for some time to come."

"That's right; keep up the retreat. Well done, Beaver!"

This was an account of the action of the chief, who, calling upon three of his men to follow him, dashed down stream towards the chimney, regardless of risk, so as to hold the rear enemies in check, while Bart, Joses, and the other three Indians did the same by the party up stream, who, however, were rapidly approaching now.

"I want to know how those beggars managed to get down into the canyon behind us," growled Joses, as he kept on steadily firing whenever he had a chance. "They must have gone down somewhere many miles away. I say, you mustn't lose a chance, my lad. Now then; back behind those rocks.

Let's run together."

_Crack_--_crack_--_crack_! went the Indians' rifles, and as the echoes ran down the canyon, they yelled fiercely and pressed on, the Beaver's men yelling back a defiance, and giving them shot for shot, one of which took deadly effect.

There was a fierce yelling from down below as the savages pressed upwards, and the perils of the whole party were rapidly increasing.

"Didn't touch you, did they, Master Bart?" cried Joses from his hiding-place.

"No."