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The Dingo Boys: The Squatters of Wallaby Range, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22. "They're On The Roof" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. "THEY'RE ON THE ROOF" Coming quickly into the kitchen with the candle, the captain held it down over the prostrate black, turned him partly over, and let him fall back as he rapidly blew it out. "Dead," he said, hoarsely. "Yohi. Gone bong," said Shanter, quietly. "Come along mumkull Marmi and plenty white Marys. When piggi jump up, baal find dat black fellow." There was a few moments' silence, and then the captain said sharply: "Norman--Tim, lift out the bar. Rifle, be ready with your piece, and fire at once if an attack is made. Don't lift out the shutter, Norman, till I say 'Now!'" Norman made no reply, for much of his training had been tinged with military discipline. He lifted out the bar, and set it down, then he and Tim took hold of the shutter, while Rifle stood ready with his fowling-piece, listening intently, though, to his father, who was whispering to Shanter. "Now!" said the captain, sharply. The shutter was lifted out, the boys felt the captain and Shanter push by them; there was a strange rustling sound, a yell from many voices close at hand, and the shutter was thrust back in its place, but would not go home. _Bang_, _bang_! Two sharp reports from Rifle's piece, which was then dragged back and the shutter glided into the opening, but was driven right in the boys' faces by what seemed to be half a dozen heavy blows. Then it was pushed in its place again, and the bar dropped across. "Were those club blows, father?" panted Norman. "No, boy, spears thrown at the window. Well done, lads; you were very prompt. It was risky to open the shutter, but we could not keep that poor wretch here. Hark!" A low muttering and groaning, then a yell or two, came from outside, chilling the boys' blood; and Rifle stood there, his face and hands wet with cold perspiration, listening in horror. "Gun fellow plenty hurt," said Shanter, with a satisfied laugh. "Yes," said the captain, with a sigh; "some of those swan-shot of yours, boy, have told. But load, load! And Heaven grant that this may be a lesson to them, and you will not need to fire again." "Ned!" cried Uncle Jack, in a low voice. "Yes." "They're stealing round here. I can just make them out. Shall I fire?" "Not unless they are coming on." In an instant Uncle Jack's gun spoke out, and there was a fierce burst of yelling, followed by the familiar sound of spears striking the door or walls of the house. "Mine plenty spear when piggi jump up," said Shanter, quietly. "Yes," said the captain, after listening for a few moments.--"Going away, Jack?" he whispered. "Yes; I fired while they were far off, so as to hit as many as possible. Only duck-shot." "Look here, Shanter," said the captain. "Black fellow go now?" "Baal go. Come along mumkull everybody." "Cheerful, boys," said the captain; "but we shall stop that. Now then, the first thing is to close that chimney. How's it to be done?" "I think, sir," began Sam German slowly, but he was interrupted by Uncle Jack: "Some one coming up; better look out. Hah!" Uncle Jack shrank away from the loophole in the doorway just in time, for a spear was thrust through, grazing his cheek. Then it was withdrawn for a second thrust, but it did not pass through. Sam German's gun-barrel did, and he fired as he held it pistol-wise. There was a horrible yell following the report; then a fearful shriek or two, and a fresh shower of spears struck the house, while a burst of low sobbing came from the girls' room. "Marian! Aunt Georgie!" cried the captain, sternly. "Silence there, for all our sakes. Is that how English ladies should encourage those who are fighting for their lives?" The sobbing ceased on the instant, and a silence fell outside. "Gone," whispered Norman, after a time. "Baal gone," said Shanter, coolly. "Black fellow plenty come along soon." The black's words went home and sank deeply, a chill of horror running through the boys as they felt how, after this reception, their enemies would be implacable, and that if they gained the upper hand it meant death for them all. It was in ignorance, though, for had the reception been of the kindest, the probability was that they would have run the same chance of massacre. But the feeling of depression passed off quickly enough now, and the excitement of the last hour produced a feeling of elation. It had been horrible, that encounter with the descending enemy, and then the firing and the shrieks and yells as they had shot at these men; and then unconsciously, while he and his brothers were silently and thoughtfully dwelling on the same theme, Norman said aloud: "No, they are not men, but wolves, and must be treated the same." Then he started, for a hand from out of the darkness gripped his shoulder, and his uncle's voice said: "Yes, boy, you are quite right; savage howling wolves, who would have no mercy upon us, I am afraid." "You here, uncle?" "Yes, lad; your father has just relieved me, and I'm coming to sit down and eat some bread, and have a pannikin of water. Where's Shanter?" "Mine all along here 'top chimney," said the black. "Yes, and that's one thing I am going to do," said Uncle Jack. "Your father, boys, and Shanter have talked it over. There is a square case here in the corner that we think will about fill the chimney a little way up." "Yes; here it is," cried Rifle. "Let's try." Then, in the darkness, the chest was dragged to the front of the fire, lifted, found to go right up and block the chimney, so that when it was wedged up in its place by placing a barrel upright beneath, that way of entrance was effectually blocked, and Uncle Jack uttered a sigh of relief. "Now for my bread and water," he said.--"Have some damper, Shanter?" "Hey? Damper?" cried the black, eagerly. "Gib damper. Hah! Soff damper." This last was on receiving a great piece of Aunt Georgie's freshly-made bread, which kept him busily occupied for some little time. All were on the _qui vive_, feeling cheered and hopeful, now that their armour had had its first proving, the weak spot found and remedied; for, though others were contemplated for the future, the great kitchen chimney, built exactly on the principle of that in an old English farmhouse, was the only one in the slowly growing home. An hour passed, and another, with several false alarms--now the crack of some dry board in the side of the house, now a noise made by some one moving in the room, or the creaking of one of the fences outside-- everything sounding strange and loud in the stillness of the night; and as the time wore on, and no fresh attack came, the boys' hopes rose higher, and they turned to the black as the best authority on the manners and customs of the natives. "They must be gone now, Shanter," Rifle said at last, after two or three dampings from that black sage. "It's over two hours since we have heard them: all gone along, eh?" Shanter grunted. "I shall ask father to let me go out and reconnoitre." "Mine no pidney," said the black. "Get out of one of the windows and go and look round." "What for go along? Plenty damper--plenty water." "To see if the black fellows have gone." "Baal go see. Marmi come back tickum full spear and go bong." "Nonsense! the black fellows are gone." "Black fellow all along. Come plenty soon." "How do you know?" "Mine know," said the black, quietly; and they waited again for quite an hour, fancying every rustle they heard was the creeping up of a stealthy enemy. Then, all at once, there was a light, narrow, upright mark, as it seemed, on the kitchen wall. This grew plainer, and soon they were looking on each other's dimly-seen faces; and about ten minutes later Norman went to the chimney corner, took hold of the shovel there, and scraped together a quantity of the fine, grey wood ashes which lay on the great hearthstone about the cask which supported the chest in the chimney, to sprinkle them about in the middle of the kitchen. The boys looked on, and Tim shuddered, but directly after uttered a sigh of relief, just as a hideous, chuckling laugh came apparently from the ridge of the house. "Quick!" cried Norman, dropping the fire-shovel with a clatter, and seizing his gun; "they're on the roof." "Baal shoot," cried Shanter, showing his teeth. "Dat laughum jackass," and he imitated the great, grotesque kingfisher's call so faithfully that the bird answered. "Say piggi jump up:" his interpretation of the curious bird's cry; and very soon after piggi, otherwise the sun, showed his rim over the trees at the edge of the eastern plain. For it was morning, and Rifle shuddered as he went to the window slit to gaze out on the horrors of the night's work. _ |
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