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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 53. Mr. John's Scruples |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. MR. JOHN'S SCRUPLES It was a dreary, toilsome climb up the narrow portion of the valley, and it was quite dark by the time we had reached the spot where we descended first that morning, and consequently our task grew more risky and difficult; but there was no shrinking, and following in each other's steps, we went on over the bare mountain below where the sheep had been seen, and with no other light than that of the stars, descended into the narrow gorge which led down into Golden Valley. Here we of necessity, on reaching Gunson's claim, made a halt to refresh; but as soon as possible Mr Raydon gave the word "Forward!" again, and the men stepped out better, for this was all well-known ground. Five-minute halts were made twice on the way down, so as to obtain food at a couple of tents. Then it was on again, and the river was reached at last, and the steady upward trudge commenced for the Fort. Mr Raydon did not speak, but I felt that his thoughts must have been the same as mine, as I wondered what had taken place, and whether he was right in his belief that the enemy had gone up to the Fort after firing the forest. All doubt was cleared when we were about half a mile from our destination, for there suddenly boomed out on the still night air, to echo and die rumbling away among the mountains, the heavy report of one of the small cannon of the block-houses, and this sound sent the men onward at double speed, for it meant not only that the Fort was attacked, but that Grey and those with him were making a brave defence. "Steady, steady!" said Mr Raydon, in a low, stern voice. "We must get up there ready for a run in. You are out of breath, my lads." The men from the Fort, who were in front, slowed down a little at this, dropping from the double into a sharp, quick walk; but the report of a second gun, and then the crackle of rifle-firing, started them again into a steady trot, and I found myself forgetting my weariness, and running by Mr Raydon step for step. The firing grew sharper as we neared the palisade, which was dimly seen in the starlight, and the flashes of the rifles and the lights we saw going here and there added to the excitement of the scene as Mr Raydon said aloud-- "They have got in, and are trying to take the west block-house. Too late! they have taken it," he cried, as a burst of cheering rose from within the great fence. Then in a quick whisper he bade the men halt, about a dozen yards from the gateway. "Mr Barker," he said, "keep the gate, and come to our help if we want it. Don't let a man pass. No bloodshed if you can help it--prisoners. Now, Hudson's Bay boys, ready!" A fresh burst of cheering arose just then, and directly after the loud shriek of a woman, and a voice I knew as Esau's roaring out angry words. "Forward!" said Mr Raydon. "Open out into line, and use the butts of your rifles." I ran with them from the force of example, and carried away by the excitement, as our men charged rapidly across the enclosure to where, in happy ignorance of the fact that help was at hand, the gang of scoundrels were busy binding their prisoners, whom they had just dragged out of the block-house. But the next minute there was a yell of rage and hate, with the sound of heavy blows, pistol-shots, oaths and curses, and then the pattering of feet, and Mr Raydon's voice rang out. "Four men your way," he cried; and directly after there was a repetition of the blows, shots, and yells, followed by a cheer from the gate. For the last of the gang had been beaten down, and as pine-torches were lit, the wounded were separated from the uninjured, and these latter were placed in rows under a strong guard; while explanations followed, Grey assuring us that the women were safe; that the cry came from Mrs Dean, who had tried to protect her son; and that we had come just in time, after a desperate struggle, first at the gate, and lastly at the block-house, which he had defended as vigorously as his limited means would allow. But at last, after being wounded twice, and his two most helpful men laid low, he had succumbed to a desperate rush. Day broke on as wild a looking set as can be imagined; jaded, exhausted, blackened with smoke, our men sat and lay about for the most part unhurt, though several showed traces of the desperate struggle made by the surprised gang, whose one-handed leader told Mr Raydon with a savage oath that he thought our party had been burned in the forest. "Then it was your doing," said Barker, fiercely. "Course it was," said the ruffian. "Give me a chance, and I'll burn this place too." Barker raised his fist to strike the fellow, but Mr Raydon seized his arm. "Don't do that," he said; "we shall not give him a chance." And so it proved, for that night, when I rose after a long deep sleep, I found that a party had started down the valley with the prisoners. "You came just in time, Mayne Gordon," said Mr John to me. "I was so frightened that it made me desperate too. I'm afraid I hurt one man." "You did, sir," I said laughing. "Grey told me how you swung your rifle round, and struck him down." "I did, my boy, I did," he said. "Don't laugh. I do not feel satisfied that I did right." "You did it to defend your wife," said Mr Raydon, who came up; "and I never felt so proud of you before, John. There, I must go and see my injured men." _ |
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