To Win or to Die Part 46

Tregelly caught him up in his arms as if he were a child, bore him into the hut, threw him on the bed, and tore off his jacket so as to expose the place to the light.

"Yes, he has knifed you, my son," said Tregelly hoa.r.s.ely; "but it's a mere scratch. He meant it, though, but reached over a bit too far."

"You are saying this to calm me," said Dallas excitedly. "He struck me a tremendous blow."

"Yes, my son; but it must have been with his wrist. I'm not cheating you. It's the simple truth. It isn't worth tying up."

"Thank G.o.d!" sighed Dallas. "I suppose I'm a bit of a coward, but the horror of it made me feel sick as a dog."

"Such a crack as he must have given you would have made me feel sick, my son. Did it knock you down?"

"No; I closed with him, but he tripped and threw me heavily."

"Well, that would make you feel sick, my son, without anything else.

Here, on with your jacket again, and let's get out into the darkness.

It's like asking the beggar to come and pot us, standing here."

They hurried out directly after, to stand listening; but all was still.

"Now then," said Tregelly, "we'd best get the sledge and make our way home; but what do you think of my gentleman now? Oughtn't we to scrunch him like one would a black beetle?"

"Yes," said Abel fiercely, "and the first time we can. But where's the dog? Can that be he in the distance?"

A faint baying sound, followed by what sounded like revolver shots, several in succession, was heard. Then once more all was still for a few moments, when the firing began again.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

WHEN SLEEP IS MASTER.

"Hear that?" cried Abel excitedly. "The scoundrel! The ruffian! He's firing at the dog."

"Yes, my son," said Tregelly quietly; "and I'm not surprised, for old Scruff can be pretty nasty when he likes."

"But you don't stir. Are we going to stand here and listen to that poor brute being murdered?"

"It would be about madness to go after him, my son," said Tregelly, coolly; "and after all, he isn't likely to hit the dog in the dark."

A few minutes later they found the sledge, and as they were about to start, Dallas kicked against something hard, which went spinning along the ice-covered snow.

"What's that?" he said. "Why, Tregelly, it must be your pipe."

"Yes. It struck against me," cried Abel. "Here it is," he added in triumph.

"Hooroar!" cried Tregelly. "Now, I call that fine, my sons. Why, if old Scruff comes back and says he's killed Master Redbeard, this'll be about as pleasant a time as I ever spent. But how's your arm, Master Dallas?"

"Smarts, and feels wretched and numb, that's all. I can help pull the sledge."

"All right, my son," cried Tregelly, giving the line a jerk; but in vain, for the sledge was immovable, the runners being frozen to the surface of the snow. "I say; think o' that."

Dallas and Abel gave the sledge a wrench, set it at liberty, and it glided smoothly on, Tregelly insisting on dragging it all the way back to the hut, where they shut themselves in, and then prepared an early breakfast; but before it was ready there was a familiar thump on the rough door, and Scruff was admitted, apparently free from fresh injuries, for he gave all an intelligent look, and then seated himself by the fire to lick his wound, before curling up and going to sleep.

"I wish I could do that," said Dallas.

"Do it without the curl," said Tregelly, smiling. "It's the best thing for a man who has had such a shake as you have."

"No, no. The ruffian may come back."

"He won't come yet, my son," said Tregelly; "but if he should think it best to give us another call, don't you be uneasy; we'll wake you up."

A quarter of an hour later Dallas was fast asleep, and Abel looked up at Tregelly inquiringly.

"Is the sleep natural?" he whispered.

"Yes; why shouldn't it be?" was the reply.

"It seems so strange, after the excitement we have been through during the last twenty-four hours."

"Done up, my son; regular exhausted, and wants rest."

"But I could not sleep, knowing as I do that the enemy might attack us at any time. Think of the danger."

"I wonder you ever went to sea, then, my son," said Tregelly, good-humouredly. "There's always danger of the s.h.i.+p sinking; and yet you went to your berth, I suppose, every night, and slept soundly enough, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"And I'll be bound to say you go to sleep this morning before long."

"Not I. Impossible," said Abel, with a touch of contempt in his tone.

But Tregelly was the better judge of human nature, and before an hour had pa.s.sed away, weariness, the darkness, and the warmth of the fire had combined to conquer, and Abel sank sidewise on the rough packing-case which formed his easy chair, and slept soundly till the short daylight had pa.s.sed, and they were well on towards the evening of another day.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

THE RED GLOW.

Weary month after month pa.s.sed by, with the indefatigable adventurers leading the life of labourers working in a terrible climate to win just a bare existence from the soil.

"I would not care so much if we could feel safe," said Dallas; "but big as the country is, that scoundrel seems to be always on our track."

"He do, he do, my son," said Tregelly. "He means paying us off."

"Well, we are doing no more now than when we started, while others are making fortunes. Let's strike right up into the mountains, make a bold stroke for fortune, and give that scoundrel the slip."

The start was made, the little party striking right away into one or other of the lonely valleys running northward; but it was always the same--the gold was no more plentiful, and again and again they had ample proof that their enemy, who seemed to have a charmed life, was still following them.