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The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. Bart Tries Civilisation For A Change |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. BART TRIES CIVILISATION FOR A CHANGE For some hours all was blank to the brave young fellow, and then he seemed to struggle back into half-consciousness sufficient to enable him to drink from a glass held to his lips, and then once more all was blank for many hours. When Bart awoke from the long sleep, it was to find Maude seated by his bedside looking very anxious and pale; and as soon as she saw his eyes open, she rose and glided from the room, when in a few minutes the governor and a tall quiet-looking fair-haired man, whom Bart had never before seen, entered the apartment. "Ah! my young friend," exclaimed the governor, "how are you now?" "Did you get the letter?" cried Bart excitedly. "Yes; and I have given orders for a strong relief party to be mustered ready for going to our friend's help," replied the governor, "but we must get you strong first." "I am strong enough, sir," cried Bart, sitting up. "I will guide them to the place. We must start at once." "Really, my young friend," said the governor, "I don't think you could manage to sit a horse just yet." "Indeed I can, sir," cried Bart. "I was only tired out, and hungry and sleepy. The Apaches have been hard upon my trail ever since I started a week--ten days--I'm afraid I don't know how many days ago." "Here! you must not get excited," said the tall pale man, taking Bart's hand and feeling his pulse, and then laying his hand upon his forehead. "Are you a doctor?" said Bart eagerly. "Yes," said the governor, "this is Doctor Maclane." "Yes, I am Doctor Maclane," said the tall fair man; "and Miss Maude, yonder, said I was to be sure and cure you." "But I'm not ill," cried Bart, flushing. "No," said Doctor Maclane, "you are not ill. No fever, my lad, nothing but exhaustion." "I'll tell you what to prescribe for that," cried Bart excitedly. "Well, tell me," said the Doctor, smiling. "The same as Doctor Lascelles does, and used to when Joses and he and I had been hunting up cattle and were overdone." "Well, what did he prescribe?" said Doctor Maclane. "Plenty of the strongest soup that could be made," said Bart. "And now, please sir, when may we start--to-night?" "No, no--impossible." "But the Doctor is surrounded by enemies, sir, and hard pushed; every hour will be like so much suffering to him till he is relieved." "To-morrow night, my lad, is the very earliest time we can be ready. The men could set out at once, but we must have store waggons prepared, and a sufficiency of things to enable the Doctor to hold his own when these savage beasts have been tamed down. They do not deserve to be called men." "But you will lose no time, sir?" cried Bart. "Not a minute, my lad; and so you had better eat and sleep all you can till we are quite ready to start." "But you will not let them go without me, sir?" cried Bart imploringly. "Not likely, my lad, that I should send my men out into the desert without a guide. There! I think he may get up, Doctor, eh?" "Get up! yes," said the Doctor, laughing. "He has a constitution like a horse. Feed well and sleep well, my lad, and lie down a good deal in one of the waggons on your way back." "Oh, no, sir, I must ride." "No, my lad, you must do as the Doctor advises you," said the governor, sternly. "Besides, your horse will want all the rest it can have after so terrible a ride as you seem to have had." "Yes, sir," said Bart, who saw how much reason there was in the advice, "I will do what you wish." "That's right, my lad," said the governor. "Now then we will leave you, and you may dress and join us in the next room, where Donna Maude is, like me, very anxious to learn all about the Doctor's adventures and your own. You can tell us and rest as well." Bart was not long in dressing, and as he did so, he began to realise how terribly worn and travel-stained his rough hunting costume had become. It was a subject that he had never thought of out in the plains, for what did dress matter so long as it was a stout covering that would protect his body from the thorns? But now that he was to appear before the governor's lady and Maude, he felt a curious kind of shame that made him at last sit down in a chair, asking himself whether he had not better go off and hide somewhere--anywhere, so as to be out of his present quandary. Sitting down in a chair too! How strange it seemed! He had not seated himself in a chair now for a very, very long time, and it seemed almost tiresome and awkward; but all the same it did nothing to help him out of his dilemma. "Whatever shall I do?" thought Bart. "And how wretched it is for me to be waiting here when the Doctor is perhaps in a terrible state, expecting help!" "He is in safety, though," he mused the next minute, "for nothing but neglect would make the place unsafe. How glad I am that I ran that risk, and went all round to make sure that there was no other way up to the mountain-top!" Just then there was a soft tapping at the door, and a voice said-- "Are you ready to come, Bart? The governor is waiting." "Yes--no, yes--no," cried Bart, in confusion, as he ran and opened the door. "I cannot come, Maude. Tell them I cannot come." "You cannot come!" she cried, wonderingly. "And why not, pray?" "Why not! Just look at my miserable clothes. I'm only fit to go and have dinner with the greasers." Maude laughed and took hold of his hand. "You don't know what our friends are like," she said, merrily. "They know how bravely you rode over the plains with dear father's message, and they don't expect you to be dressed in velvet and silver like a Mexican Don. Come along, sir, at once." "Must I?" said Bart, shrinkingly. "Must you! Why, of course, you foolish fellow! What does it matter about your clothes?" Bart thought that it mattered a great deal, but he said no more, only ruefully followed Maude into the next room, where he met with so pleasantly cordial a reception that he forgot all his troubles about garments, and thoroughly enjoyed the meal spread before him whenever he could drag his mind away from thoughts of the Doctor in the desert waiting for help. Then he had to relate all his adventures to the governor's lady, who, being childless, seemed to have made Maude fill the vacancy in her affections. And so the time faded away, there being so much in Bart's modest narrative of his adventures that evening arrived before he could believe the fact, and this was succeeded by so long and deep a sleep, that it was several hours after sunrise before the lad awoke, feeling grieved and ashamed that he should have slept so calmly there while his friends were in such distress. Springing from his couch, and having a good bath, he found to his great delight that all the weary stiffness had passed away, that he was bright and vigorous as ever, and ready to spring upon his horse at any time. This made him think of Black Boy, to whose stable he hurried, the brave little animal greeting him with a snort that sounded full of welcome, while he rattled and tugged at his halter, and seemed eager to get out once more into the open. The cob had been well groomed and fed, and to his master's great joy seemed to be no worse than when he started for his long journey to Lerisco. In fact, when Bart began to examine him attentively, so far from being exhausted or strained, the cob was full of play, pawing gently at his master and playfully pretending to bite, neighing loudly his disgust afterwards when he turned to leave the stables. "There! be patient, old lad," he said, turning back to pat the little nag's glossy arched neck once more; "I'll soon be back. Eat away and rest, for you've got another long journey before you." Whither Black Boy understood his master's words or not, it is impossible to say. What! Is it ridiculous to suppose such a thing? Perhaps so, most worthy disputant; but you cannot prove that the nag did not understand. At all events, he thrust his velvety nose into the Indian-corn that had been placed for his meal, and went on contentedly crunching up the flinty grain, while Bart hurried away now to see how the preparations for starting were going on; for he felt, he could not explain why, neglectful of his friend's interests. To his great delight, he found that great progress had been made: a dozen waggons had been filled with stores, thirty horses had been provided with drivers and caretakers, and a troop of fifty lancers, with their baggage-waggons and an ample supply of ammunition, were being prepared for their march, their captain carefully inspecting his men's accoutrements the while. A finer body of bronzed and active men it would have been impossible to select. Every one was armed with a short heavy bore rifle, a keen sabre, and a long sharply pointed lance; while their horses were the very perfection of chargers, swift, full of bone and sinew, and looking as if, could their riders but get a chance, four times the number of Indians would go down before them like dry reeds in a furious gale. "Are you only going to take fifty?" said Bart to the captain. "That's all, my lad," was the reply. "Is it not enough?" "There must have been five hundred Indians before the camp," replied Bart. "Well, that's only ten times as many," said the captain laughingly, "Fifty are more than enough for such an attack, for we have discipline on our side, while they are only a mob. Don't you be afraid, my boy. I daresay we shall prove too many for them." "I am not afraid," said Bart, stoutly; "but I don't want to see your party overwhelmed." "And you shall not see it overwhelmed, my boy," replied the captain. "Do you see this sabre?" "Yes," said Bart, gazing with interest at the keen weapon the officer held out for his inspection. "It looks very sharp." "Well," said the captain, smiling, "experience has taught that this is a more dangerous weapon than the great heavy two-handed swords men used to wield. Do you know why?" "Oh! yes," cried Bart; "while a man was swinging round a great two-handed sword, you could jump in and cut him down, or run him through with that." "Exactly," said the captain, "and that's why I only take fifty men with me into the desert instead of two hundred. My troop of fifty represent this keen sharp sword, with which blade I can strike and thrust at the Indians again and again, when a larger one would be awkward and slow. Do you see?" "Ye-e-es!" said Bart, hesitating. "You forget, my boy, how difficult it is to carry stores over the plain. All these waggons have to go as it is, and my experience teaches me that the lighter an attacking party is the better, especially when it has to deal with Indians." "And have these men ever fought with Indians?" "A dozen--a score of times," replied the captain. "Ah! here is our friend the governor. Why, he is dressed up as if he meant to ride part of the way with us." "Ah! captain! Well, my young Indian runner," said the governor, laughing, "are you ready for another skirmish?" "Yes, sir, I'm ready now," said Bart promptly. "I can saddle up in five minutes." "I shall be ready at sunset," said the captain. "My men are ready now." "I've made up my mind to go with you," said the governor. "You, sir?" cried Bart. "Yes, my lad. I want to see the silver canyon and your mountain fortress. And besides, it seems to me that a brush with the Indians will do me good. I want them to have a severe lesson, for they are getting more daring in their encroachments every day. Can you make room for me?" The captain expressed his delight, and Bart's eyes flashed as he felt that it was one more well-armed, active, fighting man; and when evening came, after an affectionate farewell, and amidst plenty of cheers from the swarthy mob of idlers, the well-mounted little party rode out along the road leading to the plains, with the lancers' accoutrements jingling, their lance-points gilded by the setting sun, and their black-and-yellow pennons fluttering in the pleasant evening breeze. "At last," said Bart to himself, as he reined up and drew aside to see the gallant little array pass. "Oh! if we can only get one good chance at the cowardly demons! They won't hunt me now." And in imagination he saw himself riding in the line of horsemen, going at full speed for a body of bloodthirsty Indians, and driving them helter-skelter like chaff before a storm. _ |
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