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In the Pecos Country, a novel by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 31. An Exchange Of Shots |
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_ CHAPTER XXXI. AN EXCHANGE OF SHOTS
The lad watched the star-like point of light flickering in the gloom as his friend moved along, holding the torch over his head. It seemed to the watcher that when it paused they were separated by nearly a half mile. The light had an odd way of vanishing and remaining invisible for several minutes that made him think that some accident had befallen the bearer, or that the light had gone out altogether; but after a time it would reappear, dancing about in a way to show that the bearer was not idle in his researches. Mickey O'Rooney was indeed active. After making his way to the point he was seeking, he shied off to the right, and approached the chasm, down which Fred had lost his rifle. As he stood on the edge of the rent in the fathomless darkness, he loosened a boulder with his foot, and as it toppled over, listened for the result. The way was so narrow that it bounded like a ball from side to side, and the Irishman heard it as it went lower and lower, until at last the strained ear could detect nothing more. There was no sound that came to him to show that it had reached the bottom. "I s'pose it's going yet," reflected Mickey, after listening several minutes, "and no doubt it will kaap on till it comes out somewhere in Chiny, which I've been told is on t'other side of the world. Now, why could n't we do the same?" he asked himself, with a sharp turn of the voice. "If that stone is on its way to Chiny, why can't we folly on after it? If we can't reach the crust of the world at this point, what's to hinder our going round by Chiny?--that's what I'd like to know. I wonder how long it would take us? I s'pose we'd get up pretty good steam, and go faster and faster, so that we wouldn't be many days on the road. "But there's one great objection," he added, scratching his head and knitting his brow with thought. "There's nothing to stop us from bouncing from side to side like that stone. If the way is rough, we'd be pretty sartin to get our breeches pretty well ripped off us, and by the time we raiched Chiny, we wouldn't be in a condition to be presented in coort; and then, too, I haven't enough money about me to pay my way home again." The visionary scheme was one of those which grew less in favor the more he reflected upon it, and, after turning it over for some minutes longer, he was naturally compelled to abandon the idea. "I must try the stream agin," he said, as he rose to his feet and groped his way back. "That seems to be the best door, after all, though it ain't the kind I hanker after." He thrust one end of the torch in the ground some distance away, and walked to the bank close to the great rock beneath which the stream dove and disappeared. Stooping down, he observed the same dull, white appearance that had caught his eye in the first place. Beyond question this was caused by the sunlight striking the water from the outside. "I could almost swear that a feller wouldn't have to go more than twenty feet before he'd strike daylight," mused Mickey, as he folded his arms and looked thoughtfully at the misty relief of the surrounding darkness; "and it would n't take much more to persuade me to make the dive and try it." As Mickey stood there, contemplating as best he could the darkly flowing stream, and debating the matter with himself, he was on the very eve of making the attempt fully half a dozen times. It seemed to him that he could not fail, and yet there was something in the project which held him back. The stream at that point flowed quite rapidly, and the strongest swimmer, after venturing a few feet under water, would be utterly unable to return. Once started, there would be no turning back, so he concluded not to make the decisive trial just yet. "The day is pretty nearly ended, and I will drame over it. I told me laddy that that was my favorite way of getting out of such a scrape, and I'll thry it. If there's no plan that presints itself by to-morrow, then I'll thry it then or the day after." Going to where his torch was still burning in the sand, he drew it out and moved back toward his old camp-fire. "Well, me laddy, how have you made out during me absince? Have you---" He paused and looked about him. "Begorrah, but no laddy is here. Can it be that he has strayed off, and started to Chiny so as to head me off? I say! Fred, me laddy, have ye---" "Sh! sh!" And as the hurried aspirate was uttered, the boy came running silently out of the darkness, with his hand raised in a warning way. "What is it?" asked Mickey, in amazement; "have ye found another dead man?" "No; he's a live one!" "What do yez mane? Explain yerself." The lad pointed to the opening over their heads, and motioned to his friend not to draw too near the camp-fire. There was danger in doing so. "There's somebody up there," he added, "and they're looking for us." "Are ye sure of that?" asked the Irishman, not a little excited at the news. "It may be that Soot Simpson has found us. Begorrah, if there is n't any mistake about it, as me uncle remarked, when he heard that the ship with his wife on was lost at saa, then I'll execute the Donnybrook jig in the highest style of the art. What was it that aroused your suspicion that some jintleman was onmannerly enough to be paaping down on us?" "I was sitting here watching you, or rather your torch, and all the time the gravel kept rattling down faster and faster, till I knowed there was something more than usual going on up there, and I sneaked away from the fire, where I could get a better look. I went right under the place, and was about to see something worth seeing, when some dirt dropped plump into my eye, and I couldn't see anything for a while. After I had rubbed the grit out I took another look, and I know I saw something moving up there." "What did it look like?" asked Mickey, who was moving cautiously around, with his gaze fixed upon the same opening. "I couldn't tell, though I tried hard to get a glimpse. It seemed to me that some one had a stick in his hand, and was beating around the edges of the opening, as though he wanted to knock the loose dirt off. I could see the stick flirted about, and fancied I could see the hand that was holding it, though I could n't be certain of that." "No; that's a leetle too much, as me mither obsarved, when me brother Tim said that he and meself had got along a whole half day without fighting, and then she whaled us both for lying. Ye couldn't tell a man's hand at that distance, but I see nothing of him, and I should like ye to tell me where he's gone." "That is what puzzles me. Maybe he is afraid that we will see him." Mickey was hardly disposed to accept such an explanation. It seemed to him more likely that it was some wild animal mousing around the orifice, and displacing the dirt with his paws, although he couldn't understand why an animal should be attracted by such a spot. "It may be one of the spalpeens that got us into all this trouble," he added, still circling slowly about, with his eyes fixed upon the opening. "Those Apaches are sharp-eyed, and perhaps one of their warriors has struck our trail, and tracked us to that spot. If it's the same, then I does n't see what he is to gain by fooling round up there. If he'd be kind 'nough to let a lasso down that we could climb up by, there'd be some sinse in the same, but---" To the horror of both, at that instant there was a flash at the opening over their heads, a dull report, and the bullet buried itself in the very centre of the camp-fire. "Begorrah, but that's what I call cheek, as Ned McGowan used to say when the folks axed him to pay his debts. While we are looking about, and axing ourselves whether there's anybody else at all around us, one of the spalpeens sinds his bullet down here, coming closer to us than is plaisant. Did ye obsarve him?" "I saw nothing but the flash. Do you think they could see us?" "Not where we are now. We're too far away from the light. They've seen the fire, and by that token they've concluded that we must be somewhere near it." "But there was but one shot. Why not more?" "We'll get the rest of thern arter awhile. That's a sort of faaler, thrown out to see how we take it, as Larry O'Looligan used to say when he knocked a man down. Now, do ye stand aside, and I'll answer 'em." "You'd better not," protested Fred. "They can tell where we are by the flash of our guns." "Whisht, now, can't we move? Kape back in the dark like." The lad moved away several steps, and Mickey, who made sure that his form was not revealed by the light of his own camp-fire, circled around to the other side of the opening, which he was watching with the keenest interest. His purpose was to catch a glimpse of the wretch who had fired the shot. But that seemed about impossible. He could detect something moving now and then, and once or twice there was a twinkle of something red, like the eagle feather in the hair of the warrior, but he could make out nothing definitely. "He's there; and all I want to do is to be certain of hitting him," he muttered, as he held the cocked rifle to his shoulder. "I'm afeard that if I miss he'll take such good care of himself that I won't get another chance---" "There, Mickey, there's something," broke in Fred, who was scrutinizing the opening as closely as he could. "Fire, quick! or you won't get the chance!" The words were scarcely uttered, when the Irishman, who had already taken aim, pulled the trigger, instantly lowering his piece to watch the result. Both he and Fred fancied they heard an exclamation, but they could not be certain. There was no perceptible commotion about the skylight, but the flickering, erratic movement which had puzzled them ceased on the instant. Whether the shot had accomplished anything or not could only be conjectured, but Mickey was of the opinion that the exchange was equally without result in both cases. _ |
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