The Triumph of John Kars Part 48

They were ready braced at their posts, and their leaders were in their midst. The fierce yelling of advancing Indians was without effect.

They met the onslaught at close quarters with a fire as coldly calculated as it was merciless. The rush of a.s.sault was doubtless calculated to brush all defence aside in the first attack. But as well might the Bell River leaders have hoped to spurn ferro concrete from their path. The method was old. It was tried. It was as old as the ages since the red man was first permitted to curse the joys of a beautiful world. It was brave as only the savage mind understands bravery. But it was as impotent before the defence as the beating of captive wings against the iron bars of a cage.

The insensate horde came like the surging tide of driven waters. It reeled before the flaming weapons like rollers on a breakwater. There came the swirl and eddy. Then, in desperate defeat, it dropped back to gather fresh impetus from the volume behind.

The conflict was shadowy, yet searching eyes outlined without difficulty the half-naked, undersized forms as they came. There was nothing wild in the defence. Fire was withheld till the moment of contact. Then it poured out at pointblank range.

The carnage of that first onslaught was horrible. But the defenders suffered only the lightest casualties. They labored under no delusion.

The attack would come again and again in the hope of creating a breach, and that breach was the thought in each leader's mind. Its prevention was his sheet anchor of hope. Its realization was his nightmare.

The tide of men surged once more. It came on under a rain of reckless fire. The black wings of night were illuminated with a fiery sparkle, and the smell of battle hung heavily on the still air. Kars shouted encouragement to his men.

The response was all he could desire. The Indians surged to the embankment only to beat vainly, and to fall back decimated. But again and again they rallied, their temper growing to a pitch of fury that suggested the limit of human endurance. The defence was hard put to it, and only deliberation, and the full knowledge of consequences, saved the breach.

The numbers seemed endless, rising out of the black beyond only to take shape at the rifle muzzle. Thought and action were simultaneous. Each rifle was pressed tight into the shoulder, while the hot barrel hurled its billet of death deep into the dusky bodies.

For Kars those moments were filled to the brim with the intoxicating elixir demanded by his elemental nature. He fought with a disregard of self that left its mark upon all those who were near by. He spared nothing, and his "automatic" drove terror, as well as death, into the hearts of those with whom he was confronted. It was good to fight for life in any form. The life of ease and security had small enough attraction for him. But now--now he fought with the memory of the wrongs which, through these creatures, had been inflicted upon the girl who had taught him the true meaning of life.

Bill was no less stirred, but he possessed another incentive. He fought till the first casualties in the defence claimed mercy in exchange for the merciless, and he was forced regretfully to obey the demands of his life's mission. All his ripeness of thought, all his philosophy, gleaned under the thin veneer of civilization, had been swept away by the tidal wave of battle. The original man hugged him to his bosom, and he rested there content.

With Abe Dodds emotion held small place. A cold fury rose under the lash of motive. It was the motive of a man ready at all times to spurn obstruction from his path. His heart was without mercy where his interests were threatened. These creatures were a wolf pack, from his view-point, and he yearned to shoot them down as such. Like Peigan Charley his desire was that every shot should sink deeply into the bowels of the enemy.

In a moment of lull Bill dragged a wounded man off the embankment at Kars' side. Kars withdrew his searching gaze from the dark beyond.

"How's things?" he demanded. His voice was thick with a parching thirst.

"He's the fifth."

Bill's reply was preoccupied. Kars was thinking only of the defence.

"Bully!" he exclaimed. It was the appreciation of the fighter. He had no thought for anything else. "We'll get 'em hunting their holes by daylight," he went on. Then suddenly he turned back. His rifle was ready, and he spoke over his shoulder.

"There's just one thing better than chasing the long trail, Bill. It's sc.r.a.p."

With a fierce yell a dusky form leaped out of the darkness. He sprang at the embankment with hatchet upraised. Kars' rifle greeted him and he fell in his tracks.

Bill shouldered his wounded burden. A grim smile struggled to his lips as he bore it away. Nor did his muttered reply reach his now preoccupied friend.

"And we cuss the poor darn neche for a savage."

It was midnight before the final convulsions of the great storming a.s.saults showed a waning. The first signs were the lengthening intervals between the rushes. Then gradually the rushes lessened in determination and only occasionally did they come to close quarters.

To Kars the signs were the signs he looked for. They were to him the signs of first victory. But no vigilance was relaxed. The stake was far too great. None knew better than he the danger of relaxing effort under the a.s.surance of success. And so the straining eyes of the defence were kept wide.

Minutes crept by, pa.s.sed under a desultory fire from the distance. The bullets whistled widely overhead, doing no damage to life. The time lengthened into half an hour and still no fresh a.s.sault came. Kars stirred from his place. He wiped the muck sweat from his forehead, and pa.s.sed down the line of embankment to where Abe Dodds held command.

"We got to get the boys fed coffee and sow-belly," he said.

Abe with his watchful eyes on the distance replied reluctantly.

"Guess we'll have to."

Kars nodded.

"I sent word to the cook-house. Pa.s.s 'em along in reliefs. There's no figgerin' on the next jolt. We can't take chances--yet."

"We'll have to--later."

Again Kars nodded.

"That's how I figger. But we got to get through this night first.

There's no chances this night. Pa.s.s your men along easy. Hold 'em up on the least sign of things doing."

He was gone in a moment. And the operation he had prescribed for Abe's men was applied to his own.

Another hour pa.s.sed and still there was no sign from the enemy. It almost seemed as if the victory had been more complete for the defence than had at first been thought. The men were refreshed, and the rest was more than welcome. Kars refused to leave his post. For all his faith in the defence he trusted the vigilance of no one.

A meal of sorts was sent down to him from the cook-house, and he shared it with the stalwart ruffian, Abe, and, for the most part, they quenched their thirst with the steaming beverage in silence. The thought of each man was busy. Both were contemplating the ultimate, rather than the effort of the moment.

Abe was the first to yield to the press of thought.

"How's Bill doin'?" he demanded. "What's the figures? I lost four."

"Wounded--only?"

"Wounded."

"Guess that raises the tally."

"How about your boys?"

Kars gazed in the direction of the rough storehouse now converted into a hospital.

"I'd say five. Bill was here a while back. He reckoned he'd got five then."

Abe laughed. It was not a mirthful laugh. He rarely gave way to mirth. Purpose had too profound a hold on him.

"Figger up nine by eight nights like this and you ain't got much of a crowd out of eighty."

Kars' eyes came swiftly to the lean face shadowed under the night.

"No." Then he glanced in the direction whence came the reckless Indian fire. "You mean we can't sit around, and let the neches play their own war game. That so?"

"Guess it seems that way."

"I don't reckon they're going to." Kars tipped out the coffee grounds from his pannikin with unnecessary force. He laid the cup aside and turned on the engineer. "Say, boy," he cried, with a deliberate emphasis, "I've got this thing figgered from A to Z. I've spent months of thought on it. You're lookin' on the dollars lying around, and you're yearning to grab them plenty. It's a mighty strong motive. But it's not a circ.u.mstance beside mine. I'd lose every dollar in my bank roll; I'd hand up my life without a kick, rather than lose this game.

Get me? Say, don't you worry a thing, so we hold this night through.

That's what matters in my figgering. If we hold this night, I got a whole stack of aces and things in my sleeve. And I'm goin' to play 'em, and play 'em--good."

The a.s.surance of his manner had a deep effect. Pa.s.sivity of resistance at no time appealed to the forceful Abe. Aggression was the chief part of his doctrine of life. He was glad to hear his chief talk in that fashion.