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The Dingo Boys: The Squatters of Wallaby Range, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 21. "Think You Can Hit A Black?" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. "THINK YOU CAN HIT A BLACK?" A long anxious afternoon of watching, but the blacks made no sign, and upon Shanter being referred to, he replied coolly: "Plenty come along when piggi jump down, all no see." Tim shuddered at the black's coolness. "Make shoot bang. Black fellow run along holler--ow!" "He doesn't seem to mind a bit," whispered Tim. "Don't know the danger, I suppose," said Norman. "I say, boys, how long could we hold out?" "Always," said Rifle. "Or till we had eaten all the cattle." "If the blacks don't spear them and drive them away." As the afternoon wore on the conversation grew less frequent, and all waited, wondering whether the blacks would attack them or try to drive off the cattle. Guns were laid ready; ammunition was to hand, and the captain seemed to have quite thrown aside his suspicions of the black, who, on his side, had apparently forgotten the cut across his shoulder, though a great weal was plainly to be seen. In spite of bad appetites there had been two meals prepared. "Men can't fight on nothing, wife," the captain said; and then seeing the frightened looks of Mrs Bedford and the girls, he added with a merry laugh: "If they have to fight. Bah! if the black scoundrels come on, it only means a few charges of swan-shot to scatter them, and give them a lesson they will never forget." Soon after this the captain and Uncle Jack went outside with the glass to sweep the edge of the scrub and the ridge, as well as every patch of trees, leaving the boys alone in the back part of the house to keep watch there. "I say," said Rifle, in a low tone, "it's all very well for father to talk like that to them, but he doesn't think a charge of swan-shot will scatter the blacks, or else he wouldn't have the bullets ready." "No," replied Norman, quietly. "He looks very serious about it all." "Enough to make him," said Tim; "after getting all this place so beautiful, to have a pack of savages coming and interfering.--I say, Shanter, think the savages are gone?" "Mine no pidney," said Shanter, starting up from where he had been squatting in one corner. "Are the black fellows gone?" "Baal black fellow gone along. Wait till piggi jump down and can't see." "Think so? Come along all dark?" said Rifle. "Yohi. Come along, get flour, numkull chicken fellow. Make big fight." Norman frowned. "Mine glad Marmi Rifle. Mine like plenty stop along here." "Well, I don't," grumbled Rifle. "I don't like it at all. I say, Man, don't you wish we were all safe somewhere else?" "Yes. No," said Norman, shortly; "we mustn't be cowards now." "'Tisn't cowardly not to want to fight like this," grumbled Rifle. "If I shoot, perhaps I shall kill a black fellow. I don't want to kill a black fellow." Shanter nodded admiringly, for he did not quite grasp the speech. "Kill a black fellow," he said. "Mumkull. Go bong." "Oh, bother; I wish he wouldn't muddle what a fellow means. I say, Tim, feel frightened?" "Horribly," replied Tim. "I say, I hope they will not come." "Perhaps they will not," said Norman. "If they do, it may only mean to drive away some of the cattle." "Well, father don't want his cattle driven away, does he?" "Don't talk so," said Norman, who was standing with his face to a small square window, which he reached by standing on a case. "I say, come here, Tim." The boy went and stood by him. "Look straight along the garden fence, and see if that isn't something moving; there, by those bushes." Tim looked intently for a few moments, and shook his head. "No," he said; "it's getting too dim. What's that?" "Only father and uncle," said Rifle, for just then their elders entered the house, and closed and fastened the door before coming into the back room. "It's getting so dark, boys, that we'll trust to the place now to protect us. Close that window all but the narrow slit. Are the other windows fast?" "Yes, father," said Norman; "all but the loopholes in our bedroom and the kitchen. Think they'll come?" "Can't say, boy; but we think it is not wise to risk a spear from some fellow who has crawled up." "Black fellow crawl up," said Shanter, as Norman secured the window. "They had better stay away," said the captain, gravely. "Poor wretches, it is very horrible to have to fire at their unprotected bodies. If they would only keep away." The captain cast an eye over the defences, and at the boys' weapons before going to the girls' bedroom, which stood a little higher than the other rooms of the house, and being considered the safest spot in the stronghold, the ladies were all gathered there. Here the boys could hear him talking cheerily as the place grew darker and darker, for the fire in the kitchen had been extinguished, and lights were of course forbidden. From the front room by the door came the low murmur of voices, where Uncle Munday and Sam German sat together, the latter now armed with a gun, though his pitchfork was placed beside him, as if even now he might require it for his defence. At last, wearied out with sitting in one position, Rifle rose and went to the door, where his uncle and Sam German were keeping watch. "Think you can hit a black, Sam?" whispered Rifle, after a few words with his uncle. "Dunno, Master Rifle; but I have hit sparrers afore now, and brought down a rabbit." "Oh!" ejaculated Rifle. Then after a pause. "I say, Sam, which did you put in first, the powder or shot?" "There, it's of no good your trying to be funny, my lad," whispered back the gardener, "because it won't do. You feel as unked as I do, I'm sewer. What I says is, I wish it was to-morrow mornin'." "Or else that they would come, German, and let us get it over," said a voice out of the darkness, which made them start. "The suspense is painful, but keep a good heart.--Raphael, boy, you ought to be at your post. Mind and report every sound you hear." "Yes, father," said the boy, who crept back to the room he had left, but not without going to the bedroom door, and whispering sharply, "It's all right, mother. We'll take care of you." He did not wait for a reply, but crept into the backroom, where all was silent, and he went from thence into the long lean-to kitchen, with its big stone fireplace and chimney. "Pist! you there, boys?" "Yes; mind how you come. Your gun's standing up in the corner by the fireplace. We're going to sit here, and take it in turns for one to watch at the window slit." Then after making out by touch where the others were placed, and nearly falling over Shanter, who was squatting, enjoying the warmth which came from the hearthstone to his bare feet, the boy seated himself on a rough bench by his gun, and all was silent as well as dark. From time to time the captain came round--in each case just after they had changed watches at the window loophole--but neither Norman, his cousin, nor brother had anything to report, and he went away again, after telling them the last time that all was well, and that he thought their sister and cousin had gone off to sleep. Then there was the same oppressive darkness and silence once more, a heavy breathing by the still warm fireplace, suggesting that Shanter, well refreshed with damper, had gone to sleep, and the boys instinctively shrank from disturbing him for fear he should start into wakefulness, and lay about him with his nulla-nulla. It must have been nearly twelve o'clock, when Norman was wishing that the Dutch clock in the corner had not been stopped on account of its striking, for the silence was growing more and more painful, and he was wondering how it would be possible to keep up for hours longer. He felt no desire for sleep; on the contrary, his nerves were strained to their greatest tension, and he could hear sounds outside as if they had been magnified--the chirp of some grasshopper-like insect, or the impatient stamp of a horse in the enclosure, being quite startling. But there was nothing to report. He could easily find an explanation for every sound, even to the creaking noise which he felt sure was caused by one of the cows rubbing itself against the rough fence. Rifle was watching now at the narrow slit, but there was nothing to see, "except darkness," he whispered to his brother, "and you can't see that." And then, as he sat there for another half-hour, Norman began once more to envy the black, who seemed to be sleeping easily and well, in spite of the danger which might be lurking so near. But he was misjudging the black: Shanter was never more wide awake in his life, and the proof soon came. All at once there was a faint rustling from near the fireplace apparently, and Rifle turned sharply, but did not speak, thinking that Norman and his cousin had changed places. Norman heard the sound too, and gave the credit to Tim, who in turn made sure that his cousin had lain down to sleep. So no one spoke, and the rustling was heard again, followed now sharply by a quick movement, a horrible yell, a rushing sound, and then the sickening thud of a heavy blow. Before the boys could quite grasp what it meant, there was a sharp rattling, as if a big stick was being rapidly moved in the chimney, then another yell, a fresh rattling as of another great stick against the stone sides of the chimney, with a heavy thumping overhead. Norman grasped the position now in those quick moments, and, gun in hand, dashed to the chimney, cannoning against Rifle and then against some one else, for he had tripped over a soft body. Before he could recover himself there was a deafening roar, and the sour odour of powder began to steal to his nostrils as he listened to a rustling sound as of something rolling over the split wood slabs which roofed the place, followed by a heavy fall close under the window. "What is it, boys?" cried the captain at the door, for all had passed so rapidly that the episode was over before he reached the kitchen. "Black fellow come along," said Shanter, quietly. "Mine mumkull." "Through the window?" cried the captain, reproachfully, advancing into the kitchen. "Oh, boys! Ah!"--he stumbled and nearly fell--"wounded? Who is this?" There was no reply. "Norman--Rifle--Tim?" cried the captain in horrified tones. "Yes, father! Yes, uncle!" cried the boys excitedly. "Then it's the black! But I don't understand. How was it?" "Mine hear black fellow come down along," said Shanter, quickly. "Mine make black fellow go up along. You pidney?" "What, down the chimney?" "Yohi. Make plenty fire, baal come along down." "Wait a minute," said the captain quickly, and they heard him go into the other room. Then there was the sharp striking of flint and steel, a shower of sparks, and the face of the captain was faintly visible as he blew one spark in the tinder till it glowed, and a blue fluttering light on the end of a brimstone match now shone out. Then the splint burst into flame as voices were heard inquiring what it all meant. "Back into your room!" thundered the captain. As he spoke, _thud_, _thud_, _thud_, came three heavy knocks at the door in front, which were answered by Uncle Jack's gun rapidly thrust through the slit left for defence, out of which a long tongue of flame rushed as there was a sharp report, and then silence. "Blows of clubs?" cried the captain, sheltering the light with his hand, as he looked toward his brother. "Spears," said Uncle Jack, laconically; and the next moment the sound of his powder-flask was heard upon the muzzle of the gun, followed by the ramming down of a wad. But the boys' eyes were not directed toward their uncle, whose figure could be plainly seen as he loaded again, for they were fixed upon the body of a black lying face downward on the kitchen floor, with Shanter, hideously painted, squatting beside it, showing his white teeth, and evidently supremely proud of his deed of arms. _ |
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