To The Front Part 8

"He fights like a Cheyenne," grinned the young commander. "How soon do they begin?"

"Right off; now! They come from _all_ round!" was the almost agonized cry.

"Then I won't have to lug you back. You can go!"

And like a frightened hare the young foreigner darted away, dodging and diving up the slope, only to fall exhausted at the top, and then to creep on all-fours to the shelter of the office. Already some of the armed rioters had managed to climb far up the hill-side and from behind rock or ledge to open fire on the platform. The range was full three hundred yards, their aim was poor, and the bullets flew wild, but the effect on this poor lad was all they could ask. He collapsed at the opening door.

Leisurely, yet cautiously, Geordie climbed in his tracks--went first to the office to give warning to Nolan, then round to the compressor to instruct the little guard. c.a.w.ker poked a head from a window and looked anxiously toward the gaping mouth of the ravine. The darkness of night was already settling in its gloomy depths. The homely shed looked black and forbidding. Aloft on each side were precipitous slopes affording but slight foothold. Little likelihood was there of rioters sliding down to attack them, but, suppose they pried loose, or blasted out, some of those huge rocks up the mountain and sent them rolling, bounding, crashing down? What might _then_ happen?

A bullet tearing through the shingling, ten feet above c.a.w.ker's protruding head, made him jerk it in, like a turtle, but presently it reappeared at the window.

"It's the dynamite I'm thinking of," said he. "A rock lighting on that now--"

"Where is it?" interrupted Graham.

"In that first shed yonder--a dozen boxes."

"Bring two men and come along," was the quick order, and it was no time now for reluctance, resentment, much less refusal. The two men summoned shrank back and would not come, but c.a.w.ker found two who dared to follow. It was a case of "duck and run" for all.

"Watch the hill-side above!" shouted Graham, in tones that rang through every building and reached every ear. "Shoot down every man that tries to heave rocks into the ravine, or fire at us. We're going to move that dynamite."

Once within the shelter of the gorge, with comrades carefully sighting the slopes, Geordie felt the danger would not be very great. A swift rush carried all four over the open s.p.a.ce of twenty yards. Three or four shots came zipping from aloft, but the instant ring of Winchesters back of them told that watchful eyes had noted every head that appeared, and the swift crackle of fire from the shop put instant stop to the fun up the slope. Into the store-room the manager led them, and unlocked a heavy little trap-door within; then, one by one, the ominous-looking cases were dragged forth, hoisted, and swiftly borne to the mouth of the mine. Three tunnels there seemed to be, as Geordie hurriedly noted, but into the largest and lowermost they shouldered their perilous burden and carefully, cautiously, stacked the boxes well inside; went back, and searched out, and followed with all the fuse and powder stored at the top. Then, with rock and ore and barrels of earth, they built a stout barrier in front of the tunnel, blocking it from without, and the sun was down and night was upon them when they stumbled back to their posts.

For now still a weightier problem remained to them--how to defend those works in the dark.

In all, Geordie Graham found they had just twenty men on whom he could count. The trembling young Slav at the blacksmith-shop, the blue-lipped boy in the office, and sorely wounded old Shiner were out of the fight.

But c.a.w.ker's mine-guards were native born, or Irish, and most of the reinforcements that came with Nolan and himself were Americans, and all were good men and true. By day they could see and shoot at any man or men who sought to approach them with hostile intent. By night they could see nothing. There was only one way, said Graham, to prevent the more daring among the rioters crawling in on them and firing some of the shops, and that was to throw out strong pickets on every side, then trust to their ears, their grit, and their guns.

Already he had been selecting good positions in which to post his sentries. Ten at least, full half his force, would be needed, and while vigilant watch was kept through the twilight, and a warning shot sent at every hat that showed within dangerous range, Geordie went from building to building picking out his men.

Arms, ammunition, and provisions, fortunately, they had in abundance.

The company had long since seen to that. Nolan already had set "Blue Lips" to work building a fire in the big kitchen stove at the office and setting the kettle to boil. Coffee, hard bread, and bacon, with canned pork and beans, were served to all hands, about five at a time, and then, with Nolan to station the watchers on the south and west fronts, George and his five stole out on the northward slope, alert, cautious, and silent, moving only a few paces at a time.

Afar down in the depths of the valley the cl.u.s.tered lights of the excited town shone brilliantly through the gloaming. Every now and then through the surrounding silence came the bark of dogs, the shrill voices of clamoring women, and occasionally a burst of howls and yells.

Some rude orator was still preaching death and destruction to a more than half-drunken gang, urging them on to the aid of their brethren up the levels above. All about the Silver Shield, however, was ominously still. Over on opposite heights and down in stray gulches could be seen the flitting lights of rival establishments, and away to the west, around the base of the mountain where the railway squirmed by the side of the tortuous stream, two or three locomotive-engines, on stalled trains, had been whistling long and hard for aid. All that was useless.

Above for a mile, below for a league, the track had been torn up in places, and down along Silver Run, toward Hatch's Cove and the foot-hills, culverts and cuts had been mined and blown out for five miles more. No sheriff's posses from below, no hated Pinkertons, no despised militia, no dreaded regulars, should come to the aid of Silver Shield till there was nothing left worth saving.

And up here on the northward flank of the bold, rounded heights that overhung the town, and harbored now both besieged and besiegers, invisible to each other and to the lower world in the darkness, Geordie Graham lay crouching behind a little bowlder, every sense on edge, for to his left front, a little higher up, he could distinctly hear low, gruff voices, confused murmurings and movements, sounds that told him that, relying on their overwhelming numbers, the mob was coming slowly, surely, down to carry out their threat to fire the buildings and to finish as they pleased the wretched defenders.

It was barely nine o'clock. Below him, perhaps twenty yards downhill, was his nearest sentry. Above him, and a little retired, was another, a silent young German-American who had been at the head of the men working tunnel Number Two. Beyond him still, and thrown back toward the head of the ravine, was one of c.a.w.ker's guard, a sharp-eyed, sharp-witted chap who had seemed at first to chafe at Graham's hints and orders, yet had acted on them. And on these two, so far as sound could enable him to judge, all ignorant of their presence and purpose, this uncouth ma.s.s of men was bearing down. Winchester in hand and, as he himself said later, his heart in his mouth, Geordie stole swiftly uphill to the post of the German and found him kneeling and all aquiver with excitement. He, too, had just heard.

"Don't fire till I do," said Graham. "I'll be right out where you can hear me challenge." A few steps higher he climbed, and then called low and clear:

"D'you hear them coming, guard? Can you see anything?"

And the answer came in the drawl of the Southland:

"Hyuh 'em plain 'nuff, but they don't show a light yet. Reckon they don't mean tuh."

"We'll give them the fill of our magazines if they don't halt at the word. Wait till I let drive, then let them have it!"

And so, crouching low, straightforward along the slope he sped, till, perhaps twenty yards out, the black bulk of the mountain-side loomed between him and the westward heaven, while against the stars of the northern horizon he could dimly determine, heaving steadily toward him, not fifty paces away, some huge, murmuring, moving ma.s.s. And then there rang out on the silence of the night, clear, stern, and commanding, a voice the like of which their ears had never heard, in words that even they could not fail to comprehend:

"Halt where you are--or we fire!"

There was an instant of recoil and confusion and fear. Then furious tones from far back in the throng and guttural shoutings that seemed urging them on, for, presently, on they came, but in the silence and dread of death.

Back went the lever of Graham's Winchester; slap went the bolt to its seat, with the shining cartridge ahead of it; up came the b.u.t.t to the shoulder; and then, once more, that deep, virile voice rang along the heights and went echoing away across the gorge. Back at the mine Nolan's heart leaped at the sound of it. Away down in the village they heard it and shrank, for the next instant set them all shrieking; for the lightning flashed and the rifles barked loud and swift, and strong men howled and turned and fled, anywhere out of the way, and some fell headlong, screaming and cursing, in the rush and panic that spread from one stern and sudden word--the soldier command: "Fire!"

CHAPTER XII

THE MAN OF THE SIEGE

Down in the valley that night there was commotion and uproar for hours, but there was quiet at Silver Shield. One after another furious speeches were made in foreign tongues, speeches in which the murderous occupants of the mine buildings were doomed to an eternity of torment, and the would-be murderous element among the miners was lauded to the skies and urged to further effort.

But the astonishing repulse, the fact that they had been met in the open as well as in the dark, and that a swift and sudden fire had been poured into their very midst, had shattered the nerve of men already shaken, although it later turned out that only three of their number had really been shot (two of them in the back), and that twoscore had been trampled and torn by their own people, while some thirty or more were missing, "left dead on the hill," said their fellows, in the mad rush for safety that followed the first flash. That sharp, stern order and the instant response had started the rumor that soldiers, regulars, had come up from the fort. It was pointed out that while the Transcontinental was blocked down the Run, no one had thought to cripple the Narrow Gauge over in the valley beyond. The road was open to Miners' Joy, the road by which young Breifogle had made his escape, and by this roundabout route had succor reached the besieged garrison.

All that liquor and eloquence could do was tried on the raging townsmen that night, but not until broad daylight could they be induced to make another trial, and by that time few were able to keep their feet on the level.

Less than half a dozen shots from each of five Winchesters had been enough, combined with darkness, to utterly rout the ma.s.s of rioters.

Mindful of the lesson well learned at the Point--to instantly follow a staggering blow--Graham had sprung from his cover, called to his fellows to "come on," and so, shouting and shooting at the very heels of the panic, had not only chased them in headlong flight, but, returning, had picked up half a dozen terrified prisoners and herded them back to Nolan for such rea.s.surance and comfort as that grim old trooper saw fit to administer. When morning broke the depths of the valley were still shrouded in mist and gloom. Up on the heights the brilliant hues of the dawn shone far and wide on rocky peak and pinnacle and, above the wooden tower of the office building, on the fluttering folds of an American flag.

That was a grewsome day on Lance Creek. Four of the mines, temporarily bereft of hands, had fired up and gone to work with such force as they had, and declined to take back the men who had quit. The managers, superintendents, bosses, and owners held council together and started out with what they termed a relief expedition to rescue the garrison of Silver Shield. They were seen as they came solemnly marching uphill, waving a white flag by way of a.s.surance, and were met on the roadway by Nolan and Geordie. c.a.w.ker was taking a much-needed nap.

"Are you all safe?" was the eager question from below.

"Safe from what?" asked Nolan, from above.

"Why, the mob, the rioters. Didn't they try to clean you out last night?"

"Did they?" asked Nolan turning to his silent young friend the fireman.

"Was that what those fellows were thinking of that you chased off the hill? Why, maybe it was! But here, what we came down to find out was about Shiner's boy. How's he?"

Then the rescuers looked at one another in some bewilderment. The leaders were friends of c.a.w.ker. They hardly knew Nolan. They did not know his companion the fireman.

"D'you mean to tell us you've had no trouble up there?" was the eager demand.

"Why, lots of it, four days ago--'t least _I_ had," answered Nolan, grimly, "but nothin' worth mention last night."

"Why, man," cried the manager of the White Eagle, "there were a thousand riotous Bohemians and Dagoes, and Lord knows what all, went up there last night to burn those buildings over your heads and you with 'em."

"Why, cert'nly," said Nolan, with preternatural gravity and a wink at his comrade, who was doing his utmost to keep a straight face. "It must have been some of those fellows _you_ blew in about ten o'clock. But say," he broke off, as though this matter bored him, "what we want to know is about Shiner's boy. They didn't seem to have time to talk."

By which time it dawned upon the officials present that Nolan was having fun with them, and though the spokesmen were nettled, many others, with genuine American sense of humor, felt that he couldn't be blamed.