The Death Shot Part 40

The sisters, startled, terrified, have but time to give out one wild cry--a shriek. Before either can utter a second, brawny arms embrace them; blinds are thrown over their faces; and, half stifled, they feel themselves lifted from their feet, and borne rudely and rapidly away!

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

LOCKED IN.

At that same moment, when the red Sabines are carrying off his daughters, Colonel Armstrong is engaged, with his fellow-colonists, in discussing a question of great interest to all. The topic is sugar--the point, whether it will be profitable to cultivate it in their new colony. That the cane can be grown there all know. Both soil and climate are suitable. The only question is, will the produce pay, sugar being a bulky article in proportion to its price, and costly in transport through a territory without railroads, or steam communication.

While the discussion is at its height a new guest enters the room; who, soon as inside, makes a speech, which not only terminates the talk about sugar, but drives all thought of it out of their minds.

A speech of only four words, but these of startling significance: "_There are Indians about_!" 'Tis Hawkins who speaks, having entered without invitation, confident the nature of his news will hold him clear of being deemed an intruder.

And it does. At the word "Indians," all around the table spring up from their seats, and stand breathlessly expectant of what the hunter has further to communicate. For, by his serious air, they are certain there must be something more.

Colonel Armstrong alone asks, the old soldier showing the presence of mind that befits an occasion of surprise.

"Indians about? Why do you say that, Hawkins? What reason have you to think so?"

"The best o' reasons, colonel. I've seed them myself, and so's Cris Tucker along with me."

"Where?"

"Well, there's a longish story to tell. If you'll have patience, I'll make it short as possible."

"Go on!--tell it!"

The hunter responds to the demand; and without wasting words in detail, gives an epitome of his day's doings, in company with Cris Tucker.

After describing the savage troop, as first seen on the upper plain, how he and his comrade followed them across the river bottom, then over the ford, and there lost their trail, he concludes his account, saying:

"Where they went afterward, or air now, 'taint possible for me to tell.

All I can say is, what I've sayed already: _there are Indians about_."

Of itself enough to cause anxiety in the minds of the a.s.sembled planters; which it does, to a man making them keenly apprehensive of danger.

All the more from its being their first alarm of the kind. For, while travelling through Eastern Texas, where the settlements are thick, and of old standing, the savages had not evens been thought of. There was no chance of seeing any there. Only, on drawing nigh to the Colorado, were Indians likely to be encountered; though it did not necessarily follow that the encounter should be hostile. On the contrary, it ought to be friendly; since a treaty of peace had for some time been existing between the Comanches and Texans.

For all this, Colonel Armstrong, well acquainted with the character of the red men, in war as in peace, had not relied altogether on their pacific promises. He knew that such contracts only bind the savage so long as convenient to him, to be broken whenever they become irksome.

Moreover, a rumour had reached the emigrants that, although the great Comanche nation was itself keeping the treaty, there were several smaller independent tribes accustomed to make "maraud" upon the frontier settlements, chiefly to steal horses, or whatever chanced in their way.

For this reason, after entering the territory where such pillagers might be expected, the old soldier had conducted his expedition as if pa.s.sing through an enemy's country. The waggons had been regularly _corralled_, and night guards kept--both camp sentinels and outlying pickets.

These rules had been observed up to the hour of arrival at their destination. Then, as the people got settled down in their respective domiciles, and nothing was heard of any Indians in that district, the discipline had been relaxed--in fact, abandoned. The colonists, numbering over fifty white men--to say nothing of several hundred negro slaves--deemed themselves strong enough to repel any ordinary a.s.sault from savages. They now considered themselves at home; and, with the confidence thus inspired, had ceased to speculate, on being molested by Indian enemies, or any others.

For this reason the suspicious movements of Dupre's half-breed servant, as reported by the young surgeon, had failed to make more than a pa.s.sing impression on those around the dining-table; many of them treating it as an eccentricity.

Now, after hearing Hawkins, they think differently. It presents a serious aspect, is, in truth, alarmingly suggestive of treason.

The half-blood inside the house may be in correspondence with full-blooded Indians outside, for some scheme of thieving or burglary.

The thought of either is sufficient to excite Colonel Armstrong's guests, and all are on foot ready to take action.

"Dupre, call in your half-breed!" says the Colonel, directing it. "Let us hear what the fellow has to say for himself."

"Tell Fernand to come hither," commands the Creole, addressing himself to one of the negro lads waiting at table. "Tell him to come instantly!"

The boy hastens off to execute the order; and is several minutes before making re-appearance.

During the interval, they continue to discuss the circ.u.mstances that have so suddenly turned up; questioning Hawkins, and receiving from him minuter details of what he and his comrade have seen.

The additional matter made known but excites them the more, further intensifying their apprehensions.

They're at their keenest, as the darkey re-enters the room with the announcement that Fernand is not to be found!

"What do you mean, boy?" thunders Dupre, in a voice that well-nigh takes away the young negro's wits. "Is he not in the house?"

"Dat's jess what he aint, Ma.s.s Looey. De Spanish Indyin's no whar inside dis buildin'. We hab sarch all oba de place; call out his name in de store-rooms, an' de coatyard, an' de cattle closure--ebbery wha we tink of. We shout loud nuf for him to hyeer, ef he war anywha 'bout.

He haint gib no answer. Sartin shoo he no inside o' dis 'tablishment."

The young planter shows dismay. So also the others, in greater or less degree, according to the light in which each views the matter.

For now on the minds of all is an impression, a presentiment, that there is danger at the bottom of Fernand's doings--how near they know not.

At any other time his absence would be a circ.u.mstance not worth noting.

He might be supposed on a visit to some of the huts appropriated to the humbler families of the colonist fraternity. Or engaged outside with a mulatto "wench," of whom there are several, belonging to Dupre's extensive slave-gang, far from ill-favoured.

Fernand is rather a handsome fellow, and given to gaiety; which, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, would account for his absenting himself from the house, and neglecting his duties as its head-servant. But after what the young surgeon has seen--above all the report just brought in by Hawkins--his conduct will not convey this trivial interpretation. All in the room regard it in a more serious light--think the _mestizo_ is a traitor.

Having come to this general conclusion, they turn towards the table, to take a last drink, before initiating action.

Just as they get their gla.s.ses in hand, the refectory door is once more opened; this time with a hurried violence that causes them to start, as though a bombsh.e.l.l had rolled into the room.

Facing towards it, they see it is only the negro boy, who had gone out again, re-entering. But now with fear depicted on his face, and wild terror gleaming from his eyes; the latter awry in their sockets, with little beside the whites seen!

Their own alarm is not much less than his, on hearing what he has to say. His words are,--

"Oh, Ma.s.s Kurnel! Ma.s.s Looey! Gemmen all! De place am full ob Indyin sabbages! Dar outside in de coatyard, more'n a thousan' ob um; an'

murderin' ebbery body!"

At the dread tidings, gla.s.ses drop from the hands holding them, flung down in fear, or fury. Then all, as one man, make for the door, still standing open as in his scare the negro lad left it.

Before they can reach it, his words are too fully confirmed. Outside they see painted faces, heads covered with black hanging hair, and plumes bristling above. Only a glimpse they get of these, indistinct through the obscurity. But if transitory, not the less terrible--not less like a tableau in some horrid dream--a glance into h.e.l.l itself.

The sight brings them to a stand; though, but for an instant. Then, they rush on towards the doorway, regardless of what may await them outside.

Outside they are not permitted to pa.s.s. Before they can reach the door, it is shut to with a loud clash; while another but slighter sound tells of a key turning in the wards, shooting a bolt into its keeper.

"Locked in, by G.o.d!" exclaims Hawkins, the rest involuntarily echoing his wild words; which are succeeded by a cry of rage as from one throat, though all have voice in it. Then silence, as if they were suddenly struck dumb.