Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 48

"Oh," he said, "I only wonder you fellows did not hear my heart going pit-a-pat, when Castizo told us his daughter was coming round in the yacht."

"My dear Peter," Jill said, "I do believe you are actually in love."

"Is it the first time you've discovered it, my honest Greenie? Haven't I cause to be? Was there ever such a lovely or fascinating creature in the world as Dulzura! And I'm a man now, remember. Twenty-one, boys, or I will be in a month."

He stroked an incipient moustache as he spoke, and appeared savage because Jill and I laughed at him.

"Suppose Dulzura is already engaged?" said Jill, somewhat provokingly.

"Jill, you're a Job's comforter," replied Peter. "Of course, if she is engaged, there's an end to the matter. I'd enter a convent and turn a father."

"A pretty father you'd make," cried Jill, laughing again.

"All right," said Peter, "Wait till you're in love, Greenie, and won't I serve you out just!"

"Well, boys," I put in, "a happy thought has just occurred to me."

"Let's have it."

"Suppose we cease talking and all go to bed."

"Right," cried Peter, jumping up and beginning to undress.

In a few minutes more "good-nights" were said, and we were composing ourselves to sleep. Sleep in this region is deep and heavy, and I may surely add healthy, for one awakens in the morning feeling as fresh as the daisies or the proverbial lark.

I did not seem to have been asleep a quarter of an hour when Peter shook me by the shoulder.

"Jack, Jack," he was saying, "there is something up."

Peter was already dressed, and accustomed as I had been to scenes of danger I was soon following his example, though hardly knowing where I was or what I was doing.

"Don't you hear?" said Peter.

I listened now. In a moment I was as wide awake as ever I have been in my life.

I remember everything that happened that morning as though 'twere but yesterday. It _was_ morning too. Our windows faced the east, and there was a faint glimmering of the dawn already in the sky.

From the direction of the Indian camp, came first a subdued hum of angry voices. These were soon mingled with shouts of men and screams of women and children, and presently there were added the clash of weapons and the ring of revolver shots.

"They are fighting down at the toldos," said Peter. "Hurry up with your dressing."

"Whom are they fighting with?"

"I cannot say. It may be mutiny. Either that, or the Northern Indians are on us."

"Heaven forbid."

"Here, Greenie!" cried Peter.

"Jill, Jill!" I shouted, "Get up, brother. They are fighting."

Jill sat up and listened for a moment, then threw himself doggedly back again on his pillow.

"Jill!" I roared, shaking him viciously, "get up, you silly sleepy boy.

The Indians are on us."

Jill appeared fairly roused now. He sprang up and began to hurry on his dress.

We, that is Peter and I, got our revolvers and stuck them in our belts-- they were always kept loaded; then we took our swords and sallied out.

"Follow quick, Jill," were my last words to my brother. "Look out for me and get to my side. We may have to do a bit more back to back work."

We saw at a glance that it was Northern Indians with whom we had to deal, and quite a large party.

The fight was raging fiercely. Peter and I overtook Ritchie and Lawlor hurrying into the fray, and joined them. Castizo was already there. We could hear his stern words of command, and we noticed too that his revolver emptied many a saddle. Our people were fighting on foot, but fighting well and bravely. The women and children had already fled to the forest.

We came up at the right time, evidently, and the volleys we poured in created the greatest confusion in the ranks of the enemy. They seemed staggered for a little while, and made as if to retreat, but were rallied and came on once more to the charge.

How long we fought I could not say; it might have been ten minutes, or it might have been half an hour.

Suddenly there was a momentary lull, and I looked about me for Jill. He was nowhere to be seen. I shouted to Peter. He had not seen him. I extricated myself from the _melee_ as best I could, and hurried back to the log-house. The poor foolish fellow must have gone to sleep again.

As it happened, this is precisely what he had done. But, to my horror, I found the log-house surrounded by smoke. _It was on fire_.

And my brother was there, in its midst.

How I reached the door I never knew. At first I seemed dazed, nor am I certain that at any period of that dreadful night I regained the equilibrium of my senses.

I rushed in through smoke and flames. I could just distinguish my brother's form lying half-dressed on his couch, but was speedily obliged to retreat.

Then I remember feeling angry with the fire, mad almost. Why should the flames take my brother from me, the being I loved as my own soul? No, no! Save him I must, save him I should! I looked upon the fire as a living thing, as a cruel, remorseless, merciless wild beast. I fought the fire. I defied it. I was calm, though; that is, I was calm as regards the rational sequence of my actions, but in reality I was a maniac for the time being. Do men, I wonder, who do marvellous deeds of daring in the field or lead forlorn hopes, feel and fight as I then did?

With a strength that did not appear to be my own, I tore down the blazing door-posts and door that barred my entrance. Then once more I was in the room. Groping around now, stumbling too, for I could see nothing in the smoke. Ah! here at last I have him; I have him at last now!

Out now I struggle and stagger, and fall choking in the morning air.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

"IT IS BETTER THUS."

Yes, Jill was saved. He soon revived, and was able to follow me down to the toldos.

My hands were badly burned, but I did not feel pain then. Such a gush of happiness had come over my heart when Jill spoke to me again, that I forgot everything else.

Daylight had by this time spread itself right athwart the sky; and I remember the morning was beautiful with one crimson feathery cloud over the eastern horizon, where the sun was soon to show.

By the time we reached the Indian camp, the battle was over and won.

The survivors of the Northern Indians had been beaten back to the woods from which they had sallied, and there was but little fear that they would come again. Too many of their saddles had been emptied to encourage a renewal of the warfare.