Woven with the Ship Part 39

"Water here," called the colonel, "and some linen!"

"We have none in the fort, sir," answered Major Zane.

"A woman's petticoat, then."

"Take mine," cried Elizabeth, rising and lifting her outside skirt and tearing a strip off her underskirt.

"Nay, not your city finery, Mistress Elizabeth," protested McCullough, sitting up as well.

"Nothing is too fine for a brave man, sir," she answered, smiling proudly down at him.

"Not even Elizabeth Zane?" he questioned, cunningly.

"Not even Elizabeth Zane," she replied, bravely, in spite of her blushes.

"Thank G.o.d!" he whispered, as she bent down and bound up the wound.

"Zane," said the colonel, laughing at the oblivious pair, "did you ever know a peril so deadly that it could prevent two young people from making love?"

The wound, from which he had lost much blood, would have incapacitated a modern man from further fighting; but that little handful could not afford to lose a single member if they hoped to stand off the three hundred savages around the fort, so McCullough took his place on the walls with the rest. For some little time the interchange of fire was kept up, with further loss on the part of the Indians, but none at all to the Americans; but it was evident that some plan was being matured.

The rangers were seen manoeuvring through the trees; the cannon was dragged to a point where it could do greater execution.

Meanwhile Colonel Sheppard and Major Zane, with McCullough to second their efforts, were looking carefully to their defences. Every rifle, musket, and ancient pistol was brought out, charged, and laid at hand, ready for use. At this moment, however, a startling discovery was made: the powder had all but given out! Without powder they would be helpless to resist the a.s.sault which would apparently be delivered in a short time.

III.--THE WOMAN'S HEROISM

As the news spread among the men and the women, a panic filled their hearts. Was that crowded enclosure, filled with women and children, to be delivered to the ruthless pa.s.sions of those ferocious Indians and the half-breed rangers? G.o.d forbid! Yet what was to be done?

"Oh, that we had some powder! I'd give my life for a keg of it!"

exclaimed Colonel Sheppard, in despair. "Has every recess been searched?"

"We ransacked the fort, sir; there is none here," was the reply.

"I know where there is some," suddenly cried Major Zane. "In my cabin yonder there is a small keg of it; enough for us all. I had forgotten it until this moment. I'll go and get it."

The cabin was some sixty yards from the gate, and within easy rifle range of the busy enemy.

"'Tis sure death to venture there," cried the colonel; "besides, you are next in charge here. I cannot let you go."

"Let me go!" cried McCullough.

"Nay, you've done enough, and with your wounded arm you could not carry it. Besides, we need you."

"Let me!"

"I'll go," cried one and another, as the old colonel looked about him in an agony of indecision.

"We need you all; I can't spare a man," he muttered, hoa.r.s.ely. "I don't see how we can hold the walls against another a.s.sault, as it is, with but a dozen able men here. Was ever man in such a position?"

"I will go, colonel," cried a clear voice from the women about the group of men.

"Elizabeth!" exclaimed her brother.

"Mistress Zane!" interrupted McCullough; "nay, you shall not. 'Tis no woman's work! I----"

"Silence, sir!" interrupted the colonel. "Who commands this garrison?

'Tis not woman's work, indeed; but we can spare no men. I cannot risk a single rifle. The maid shall go, and G.o.d bless her! If she falls, why, she but antic.i.p.ates the fate of the rest of us."

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" cried McCullough, appealingly, still unconvinced; "you can't go! Think what your life is to me!"

"No more than yours is to me, Master Hugh," she answered, bravely, "and yet you went."

"Elizabeth, sister," cried Zane, "I can't let you go! You must not take this fearful risk!"

"Nay, gentlemen," interrupted Elizabeth, stoutly, "I will go! Open the gate. Do you cover me with your rifles as best you can. Good-by."

"Stay!" cried McCullough, grasping her by the arm. "Gentlemen, I love her and she loves me. Would you send away my promised wife? Must I see her killed before my eyes? Oh, let me try?"

"Nay, you shall not!" said the girl, kissing him and suddenly thrusting him from her, crying, "Forgive me!"

There was a flash of skirts through the open gate, and she was gone.

Forgetful of his wounds, McCullough sprang to the top of the block-house nearest the gate. His own rifle in hand, and sweeping one or two others within reach, in spite of the pain from his injured arm, he knelt on the roof, peering eagerly down the hill.

As she left the block-house Elizabeth ran with the speed of a deer straight to her brother's house. She knew exactly where the powder lay concealed. She felt little fear in the advance. Seeing a woman running toward them, and ignorant of her purpose, the Indians probably would not attempt to harm her; but when she started back with the heavy keg of powder in her arms they would detect the reason for her movement and open fire upon her at once. Her comparatively slow progress under her burden would make her position exceedingly dangerous then. But that was a chance she realized she would have to take.

It happened just as she had antic.i.p.ated. She gained the house without molestation and disappeared within the door-way for a moment, though it seemed hours to the men and women who watched from the fort until she appeared with the keg of powder on her shoulder. One glance she cast back toward the Indians standing gazing in startled surprise; one long look she threw toward the fort where, although she could not detect him in her excitement, she knew her lover was on guard, and then she started up the hill.

As she came out from the cover of the house the Indians saw the keg of powder upon her shoulder and at once realized what she was attempting to do. With roars of rage they opened fire. The bullets whistled and sang about her ears; they spattered the earth about her flying feet; one grazed her neck; another tipped her arm; a third glanced off the iron hoop of the keg she carried. If one struck the powder fairly, she would probably be blown to atoms. A new peril!

Her breath came quickly, her heart rose in her throat and seemed to choke her, mists swam before her eyes as she ran up the hill. Blindly she struggled on. She swayed to and fro over the rough ploughed ground, and the watchers thought she would have fallen or dropped her burden, but something superhuman in her enabled her to hold tight and press on.

She could not tell whether she ran rapidly or not; but her progress seemed slow, fearfully slow. Presently the firing stopped. Three of the Indians, tomahawk in hand, broke from the trees and recklessly started up the hill after her. They would try to capture her. Heedless of a possible rifle fire from the fort as they came within range, they leaped on her trail.

That was McCullough's opportunity. With a prayer in his heart that G.o.d might speed the bullet, he took careful aim. The first half-naked painted demon was nearing the girl with every bound. Two more steps and she would be in his grasp. She heard his feet on the ground; his yell rang in her ear. In spite of herself she started aside and looked around.

McCullough had his opening at last. A rifle shot rang out. She heard the scream of the bullet past her head. The savage threw up his hands, groaned horribly, and pitched forward with a bullet in his breast.

Encouraged, she ran a few steps farther. Her foot caught in a forked piece of timber. The other pursuing Indians were near her now. The wood was filled with the enemy holding their fire and watching the mad chase.

"Let no one else fire," called McCullough. "You might hit her. Leave them to me."

These two savages, warned by the fate of the first, were wise enough to keep directly behind the fleeing girl. But, as her foot caught, she plunged sideways to extricate herself, leaving the shoe with its glittering silver buckle in the obstruction. That one second was enough for McCullough again. Once more the unerring rifle cracked and the second Indian fell.

Elizabeth, recovering her wits, ran sideways now. The third Indian, attracted by the s.h.i.+ning buckle, stooped for a moment to pick it up.

McCullough fired a third rifle, which some one put into his hand. The bullet shattered the Indian's arm. With a cry of pain and rage, his other hand dropped down toward the lost slipper, and this time a bullet from a fourth rifle found his heart.

The woods were ringed with fire now, but the girl was saved. When he saw that she had arrived at the fort gate, McCullough ran from the block-house and reached the entrance in time to catch her in his arms.

Her poor little Philadelphia finery was red with blood from the wound in her neck, and her sweet young face was covered with the same gory embroidery.