Wild Western Scenes Part 19

"Is he shot?" exclaimed Mary, instantly producing some lint and bandages which she had prepared in antic.i.p.ation of such an event.

"I fear he has received a serious hurt," said Glenn, aiding Mary, who had proceeded at once to bind up the wound.

"I'll be split if he's shot!" said Sneak, going out and returning to his post. Glenn did likewise when he saw the first indications of returning consciousness in his man; and Mary was left alone to restore and nurse poor Joe. But he could not have been in better hands.

"I should like to know something about them curious words the feller was speaking when he keeled over," said Sneak, as he looked out at the now quiet scene from the loophole, and mused over the events of the night. "I begin to believe that the feller's a going to die. I don't believe any man could talk so, if he wasn't dying."

"Have you seen any of them lately?" inquired Boone, coming to Sneak's post and running his eye along the horizon through the loophole.

"Not a one," replied Sneak, "except that feller laying out yander by the s...o...b..ll."

"He's dead," said Boone, "and he is the only one that we are sure of having killed to-night. But many are wounded."

"And smash me if Joe didn't kill that one when his musket went off before he was ready," said Sneak.

"Yes, I saw him fall when Joe fired; and that accident was, after all, a fortunate thing for us," continued Boone.

"But I'm sorry for poor Joe," said Sneak.

"Pshaw!" said Boone; "he'll be well again, in an hour."

"No, he's a gone chicken."

"Why do you think so?"

"Didn't he say so himself? and didn't he gabble out a whole parcel of purgatory talk? He's as sure gone as a stuck pig, I tell you,"

continued Sneak.

"He will eat as hearty a breakfast to-morrow morning as ever he did in his life," said Boone. "But let us attend to the business in hand. I hardly think we will be annoyed any more from this quarter, unless yonder dead Indian was a chief, and then it is more than probable they will try to steal him away. However, you may remain here. I, alone, can manage the others."

"Which others?" inquired Sneak.

"Those under the snow," replied Boone; "they are now within twenty paces of the palisade."

"You don't say so?" said Sneak, c.o.c.king his gun.

"I have been listening to them cutting through the snow a long while, and it will be a half hour yet before I spring the mine," said Boone.

"I hope it will kill 'em all!" said Sneak.

"Watch close, and perhaps _you_ will kill one yet from this loophole,"

said Boone, returning to his post, where the slow-match was exposed through the palisade near the ground; and Roughgrove stood by, holding a pistol, charged with powder only, in readiness to fire the train when Boone should give the word of command.

Boone applied his ear to a crevice between the timbers near the earth, where the snow had been cleared away. After remaining in this position a few moments, he beckoned Glenn to him.

"Place your ear against this crevice," said Boone.

"It is not the Indians I hear, certainly!" remarked Glenn. The sounds resembled the ticking of a large clock, differing only in their greater rapidity than the strokes of seconds.

"Most certainly it is nothing else," replied Boone.

"But how do they produce such singular sounds? Is it the trampling of feet?" continued Glenn.

"It is the sound of many tomahawks cutting a pa.s.sage," replied Boone.

"But what disposition do they make of the snow, when it is cut loose."

"A portion of them dig, while the rest convey the loose snow out and cast it down the cliff."

While the above conversation was going on, a colloquy of a different nature transpired within the house. Joe, after recovering from his second temporary insensibility, had sunk into a gentle doze, which lasted many minutes. Mary had bathed his face repeatedly with sundry restoratives, and likewise administered a cordial that she had brought from her father's house, which seemed to have a most astonis.h.i.+ng somniferous effect. When the contents of the bottle were exhausted, she sat silently by, watching Joe's apparent slumber, and felt rejoiced that her patient promised a speedy recovery. Once, after she had been gazing at the fawn, (that had been suffered to occupy a place near the wall, where it was now coiled up and sleeping,) on turning her eyes towards the face of Joe, she imagined for a moment that she saw him close his eyelids quickly. But calling him softly and receiving no answer, she concluded it was a mere fancy, and again resigned herself to her lonely watch. When she had been sitting thus some minutes, watching him patiently, she observed his eyes open slowly, and quickly smack to again, when he found that she was looking at him. But a moment after, conscious that his wakefulness was discovered, he opened them boldly, and found himself possessed of a full recollection of all the incidents of the night up to his disaster.

"Have they whipt all the Indians away that were standing out on the snow, Miss Mary?"

"Yes, long ago--and none have been seen, but the one you killed, for some time," she replied, encouragingly.

"Did I kill one sure enough?" asked Joe, while his eyes sparkled exceedingly.

"Yes, indeed," replied she; "and I heard Mr. Boone say he was glad it happened, and that the accident was, after all, a fortunate thing for us."

"_Accident_!" iterated Joe; "who says it was an accident?"

"Wasn't it an accident?" asked the simple girl.

"No, indeed!" replied Joe. "But," he continued, "have they blown up the other Indians yet?"

"Not yet--but I heard them say they would do it very soon. They can be heard digging under the snow now, very plainly," said Mary.

"Indeed!" said Joe, with no little terror depicted in his face. "I wish you'd go and ask Mr. Boone if he thinks you'll be entirely safe, if you please, Miss Mary," said Joe beseechingly.

"I will," responded Mary, rising to depart.

"And if they ask how I am," continued Joe, "please say I am a great deal better, but too weak yet to go out."

Mary did his bidding; and when she returned, what was her astonishment to find her patient running briskly across the room from the cupboard, with a whole roasted prairie-hen in one hand, or at least the body of it, while he tore away the breast with his teeth, and some half dozen crackers in the other! In vain did he attempt to conceal them under the covering of his bed, into which he jumped as quickly as possible.

Guilt was manifest in his averted look, his trembling hand, and his greasy mouth! Mary gazed in silent wonder. Joe cowered under her glance a few moments, until the irresistible flavour of the fowl overcame him, and then his jaws were again set in motion.

"I fear that eating will injure you," remarked Mary, at length.

"Never fear," replied Joe. "When a sick person has a good appet.i.te, it's a sure sign he's getting better."

"If you think so you can eat as much as you please," said Mary; "and you needn't hide any thing from me."

Joe felt a degree of shame in being so palpably detected, but his appet.i.te soon got the better of his scruples, and he gratified the demands of his stomach without reserve.

"But what did Mr. Boone say?" asked he, peeping out.

"He says he thinks there is no danger. But the Indians are now within a few feet of the palisade, and the explosion is about to take place."