The Triumph of John Kars Part 50

The perils of existence were too near, too real in the minds of these men.

With the last of the human sheaves disposed of the real work of the day began under the watchful eyes of the leaders. The garrison was divided in half. One-half slept while the other half labored at the defences.

Only the leaders seemed to be denied the ease of body their night's effort demanded. Picks and shovels were the order of the day, and all the shortcomings of the defences, discovered during battle, were made good. The golden "pay dirt" which had drawn the sweepings of Leaping Horse into the service of John Kars was the precious material of salvation.

The fortifications rose on all sides. The river front was no longer neglected. None could say whence the next attack would come. None could estimate for sure the subtleties of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d white mind which had so long successfully manipulated the secret of Bell River.

Not a man but had been impressed by the battle of the night. Not a man but knew that the losses in defence had been detrimentally disproportionate. Life to them was sweet enough. But even greater than the pa.s.sionate desire to live was l.u.s.t for possession of the treasure upon which their feet trod.

So they worked with a feverish effort. Nothing must be spared.

Nothing neglected that could make for security.

The leaders conferred, and planned. And the result was concrete practice. Kars was the guiding spirit, and Abe Dodds was the machine-like energy that drove the labor forward. Bill took no part in the work. His work lay in one direction only, and it was a work he carried out with a self-sacrifice only to be expected from him. His hospital was full to overflowing, and for all his skill, for all his devotion, five times, during the day, bearers had to be summoned to carry out the cold remains of one of their comrades.

The question in all minds was a speculation as to whether a fresh attack would mature on the second night. This speculation was confined to the rank and file of the outfit. The clearer vision of the leaders searched their own understanding of the position. It was pretty definitely certain there would be no attack in force. The enemy had hoped for a victory as the result of surprise and overwhelming odds.

It had failed. It had failed disastrously. The Indians were supposed to be five hundred strong. They had lost a fifth of their force without making any apparent impression on the defenders. There could be no surprise on the second night. It would take longer than twelve hours to spur the Indians to a fresh attack of a similar nature.

No, there would be no attack of a serious nature--yet. And Kars unfolded the plans he had so carefully thought out long months ago. He set them before his three companions late in the afternoon, and detailed them with a meticulous care and exactness which revealed the clarity of vision he had displayed in their construction.

But they were not plans such as these men had expected. They were daring and subtle, and they involved a risk only to be contemplated by such a nature as that of their author. But they promised success, if fortune ran their way. And in failure they would be left little more embarra.s.sed than they now stood.

The meeting terminated as it was bound to terminate with Kars guiding its council. Joe Saunders, whose mentality limited him to a good fight, and the understanding of a prospector's craft, had neither demur nor suggestion. Bill admitted he had no better proposition to offer, and only stipulated that his share in the scheme should be completely adequate. Abe protested at the work imposed upon him, but admitted its necessity.

"Sit around this layout punchin' daylight into the lousy carcases of a bunch of neches, while you an' Doc here get busy, seems to me a sort o'

Sunday-school game I ain't been raised to. It's a sort of pie that ain't had no sweetenin', I guess. An' my stomach's yearnin' for sugar.

That play of yours has got me itching to take a hand. Still, I guess this darn ol' camp needs holding up, an' if you need me here you can count me in to the limit."

Kars nodded unsmilingly. He knew Abe, second only to his knowledge of Bill Brudenell. That limit was a big one. It meant all he desired.

"It had to be you or Bill, Abe," he said. "I fixed on you because you got the boys of this camp where you need them. You'll get all the fight out of them when you want it. The Doc, here, can dope 'em all they need, but he hasn't spent half his days driving for gold with an outfit of scallawags same as you have. Hold this camp to the limit, boy, and when the work's through I don't guess your share in things'll be the least. I'm going to bank on you as I've never banked before.

And I don't worry a thing."

It was a tribute as generous as it was diplomatic, and its effect was instantaneous.

"It goes, chief," exclaimed the engineer, with the nearest approach to real enthusiasm he ever permitted himself. "The limit! An' they'll need a big bank roll of fight to call my hand."

Half an hour later Peigan Charley was surprised into wakefulness under the southern embankment, where he had fallen asleep over his pipe. His boss was standing over him, gazing down at him with steady, gray, unsmiling eyes. The scout was sitting up in a moment. He was not yet certain what the visitation portended.

"Had a good sleep, Peigan?" Kars demanded,

"Him sleep plenty, boss."

"Good."

Kars turned and glanced out over the great volume of water pa.s.sing down the river in a ponderous tide. Peigan Charley waited in mute, unquestioning fashion for what was to come.

Presently Kars turned back to his trusted henchman. He began to talk rapidly. And as he talked the scout thrust his pipe away into a pocket in his ragged coat, which had once formed part of his boss's wardrobe.

He stood up. Nor did he interrupt. The keen light in his big black eyes alone betrayed any emotion. There was no doubt as to the nature of that emotion. For the sparkle in them grew, and robbed them of the last shadow of their native lack of expression.

Following upon his boss's words came the Indian's brief but cordial expression of appreciation. Then came a few minutes of sharp question, and eager reply. And, at last, came Kars' final injunctions.

"Well, you'll get right up to the cook-house and eat your belly full.

Get fixed that way good. Maybe you'll need it. Then start right in, when it's dark, and don't pa.s.s word to a soul, or I'll rawhide you.

Get this good. If the neches get wise to you the game's played, and we've lost."

The Indian's reply came on the instant, and it was full to the brim of that contempt which the mention of his race never failed to arouse.

"d.a.m.n fool neche not know," he said icily.

Kars watched him set out for the cook-house. Then he moved over to the hospital where Bill was at work.

He pa.s.sed within the crude storehouse. He had not come out of any curiosity. He had not come to contemplate the havoc wrought on the bodies of this flotsam of dissolute life. He had come for the simple purpose of offering some cheer in the darkness of suffering.

For all the ruggedness of exterior displayed by this man when the call of the northern wilderness claimed him, deep in his heart there were warm fires glowing which the bond of loyal comradeship never failed to fan. These Breeds and scallawag Indians were no less to him for their color, or their morals. They were fighters--fighters of the trail like himself. It was enough.

A desultory rifle fire played over the camp. It was the signal of pa.s.sing day. It was a reminder that the day's cessation of hostilities marked no abatement in the enemy's purpose. The defence was at its post. A long line of rifles held their vicious muzzles searching for a target that would repay. Wastage of ammunition was strictly forbidden.

The night, like its predecessor, was obscure. The targets were far off, and, as yet, invisible. So the defence remained unanswering, but ready.

Beyond the new defences on the river front a shadowy figure was stirring. His movements were stealthy. His moccasined feet gave out no sound. But there was sound. It was the m.u.f.fled grating of something being slid over the gravelly beach at the water's edge. Then came a gentle splash of water. It was scarcely more than the sound of a leaping fish. After that came the lapping of the stream against an obstruction to its course.

The figure stood up, tall and slim. The rawhide rope in his hand strung taut. A moment later he secured the end of it by the simple process of resting a small boulder upon its knotted extremity.

The canoe had swung to the stream and lay in against the river bank.

The silent figure stooped over its gunwale and deposited various articles within its shallow depths. It was the merest c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l of stoutly strutted bark, a product of the northland Indian which leaves modern invention far behind in the purpose for which it is designed.

The sound of a footstep on the beach drew the crouching figure to its full height. Then, at the sound of a familiar voice, all suspicion died out.

"All fixed right, Charley?"

"Sho', boss. Him fix plenty good."

"Got sow-belly an'--hardtack? Maybe you'll need him. Gun? Plenty cartridge?"

"Him plenty--all thing."

"Good. Say, you need to get around before daylight. Good luck."

The Indian grunted his reply while he stooped again to release the rawhide painter. Then, with a nice sense of balance, he sprang lightly into the sh.e.l.l-like vessel.

John Kars waited only till he heard the m.u.f.fled dip of the paddle.

Then he withdrew, a sigh escaping him, an expression of pent feeling which had hope and doubt closely intermingling for its inspiration. He pa.s.sed up to the defences for his second night's vigil. He had arranged that Abe should sleep unless emergency demanded otherwise.

The night pa.s.sed without incident. Kars was thankful. It was so much valuable time gained. The labors had been hard following upon the night of battle. The whole garrison had needed rest. This had been achieved by systematic relief, which was almost military in its method.

But sleep had been taken at the defences. There had been no relaxing of vigilance. Nor had the enemy any intention of permitting it. His loose fire went on the whole time, stirring the echoes of the gorge in protest at the disturbance of the night.

Towards morning Kars and Bill were at the water's edge, searching the black distance, while they strained for a sound other than the echoes of the spasmodic rifle fire.

"Charley'll find a trail, if he hasn't broken his fool neck," Kars said. "Guess he'd find a trail in a desert of sand that's always shifting. This darn gorge must be scored with them. If he don't, why, I guess we'll need to chance it up-stream past those workings."