Through Forest and Stream Part 21

For I had caught sight of Pete hurrying back, and as soon as he saw me watching him climbing up from below he begun to make signs to me not to speak.

"What has he found?" I said to myself, for he was creeping up nearly bent double and moving with the greatest caution.

I rose to go down to him, but at the slightest movement he waved his hand to me to keep back; so I waited till he came up, panting, his face covered with the great drops of perspiration.

"Seen a big snake?" I said, laughing.

"No," he whispered; "don't make a noise. I've seen the troghums."

"What!" I cried excitedly.

"Don't," he whispered, "or you may frighten 'em again."

"But do you mean to say you've seen some of the beautiful trogons?"

"No," he panted, "not them; I've seen two or three of them other birds with the green and yellow and blue c.o.c.ked-up tails, same as I saw before and you couldn't find."

"Where are they?" I cried eagerly, for it was evident that he had seen something new in the way of birds.

"Down below in the path we cut away to get to the water. They're behind the low bushes, three or four of 'em, and I could see their tails c.o.c.king up over the top. Guns, quick, 'fore they're gone and you say I was dreaming again."

I uttered a low chirruping signal which brought my uncle and Cross to hear the news, and the next minute we had seized our guns.

None too soon, for we were hardly ready before Pete pointed triumphantly downward towards a clump of ferns some twenty yards away, where I distinctly saw something move.

"Now, aren't there no birds with tails like that?" he whispered, and I saw plainly in three places just such feathers as he had described rise into sight; but they were not the tails of birds, being the fantastic feather tiaras of Indians, whose dark faces rose now full in our view.

The next moment we saw that they were armed with bows, and I had hardly realised this when there was a tw.a.n.ging sound, the whizz of arrows, and I uttered a cry of pain.

It was as if a red-hot iron had pa.s.sed through my shoulder, and my cry was echoed by an Indian yell.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

ATTACKED BY INDIANS.

My pang of agony was accompanied by a feeling of rage against the cause of it, and in blind fury I fired both barrels of my gun in the direction of the Indians, almost at the same moment as my uncle and the carpenter discharged theirs.

The reports were followed by another yell, the crashing of bushes and ferns, and the sound as of men tearing away.

"Take care, Cross," cried my uncle. "Load again, and keep under cover.

Hah! there goes one of the treacherous hounds. Gone, and I'm not loaded. Now I am. Not hurt, are you, Nat?"

"I'm afraid I am," I said, drawing in my breath with pain.

"Here, let's look," cried my uncle. "Keep under cover, Pete. I don't want anyone else to be hurt. You, Cross, look out, and fire at the first sign. Now, Nat, what is it? Tut, tut, tut! There, keep a good heart, my lad. It has gone clean through your shoulder."

"Poisoned, uncle?" I cried anxiously.

"Pooh! Nonsense, boy! Hold still. It will not be a long operation."

I saw him take out his keen knife.

"Are you going to cut out the arrow head?" I said huskily.

"There is no need; the Indian did that for you. Look here."

I could not help shuddering, but I was firm, and watched him take hold of the slender arrow close to my shoulder, and with one stroke cut cleanly through it close to the wing-feathers. Then, going behind me, he seized the other part and made me wince once more with pain, as with one quick, steady movement, he drew the missile right through.

"Hurt?" he said cheerfully.

"Horribly, uncle."

"Never mind that. It's only through flesh. No bone-touch, and there are only a couple of little holes to heal up. Pan of water here, Pete."

"Aren't none, sir. I was going to fetch a bucket when I see what I thought was birds."

"Tut, tut, tut!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed my uncle. "I must have some water to bathe the wounds."

"All right, sir; I'll run down for some. Bucket's down there."

"No, no! The Indians--they may attack you."

"What!" cried Pete in a whimpering voice; "touch me when I'm going for some water for Master Nat? They'd better! I'd smash 'em."

Before he could be stopped he was bounding down the precipitous place, and my uncle turned anxiously to Cross.

"See any sign of them?" he said.

"Yes, sir, twice over; but they were too quick for me to get a shot.

They've waded the river down yonder, and I got a glimpse of two of 'em climbing up."

"Hah! Then he may escape them. Cross, one of us ought to follow and cover him."

"Right, sir. I'm off," cried the carpenter, and he hurried down our way to the river, just as we heard two sharp cracks from somewhere below.

"Make you feel sick, Nat?" said my uncle.

"No, I forgot it just then. I was thinking what a trump Pete is. Poor fellow! He has risked his life to get me that water."

"Yes," said my uncle through his teeth: "he's a brave fellow, and he likes you, Nat."

No more was said, and in a few minutes we heard the rustling of bushes and saw Bill Cross coming backwards with his gun at the ready, covering Pete, who was panting up with his bucket of water.

The next minute my smarting wounds were being bathed and the bleeding encouraged till it stopped naturally, when my uncle brought out his pocket-book, applied some lint from it, and bandaged the places firmly, afterwards turning a handkerchief into a sling.

"There," he said, "you need not fidget about poison, my lad. The place will soon heal. Now then, any sign of the enemy?"