Syd Belton Part 61

"Strake! Don't shoot."

"You, Master Syd!" growled the boatswain, "I thought it was that there bear. Why, you shouldn't come crawling up like that, sir, I might have shot at you."

"But I told you not to bring pistols."

"So you did, sir; but as I thought as the brute might stick his teeth into me, I felt as you wouldn't like me to be hurt, and so I brought 'em. You see, sir, you've only got one bo'sun, and it would be awkward if I was killed."

"Look here," whispered Syd, "I'm going up to see how Mr Dallas is.

Don't make a mistake and fire at me as I come back."

"Don't you be scared about that, sir," growled the boatswain; "I'll take care."

"Are the men all awake?"

"Trust 'em, sir. They've got open eyes."

"I shall not be long," said Syd.

"Right, sir."

"And be careful with that pistol, Strake. You may use it, though, if there is danger."

"Thankye, sir," said the boatswain, and then to himself, "I'll use both sooner than have my eyes clawed out, and my nose chawed off."

Syd crept quietly along among the high blocks of rock which dotted the chasm, gazing up at the quivering stars once and wis.h.i.+ng they gave more light, and thinking of what shelter these rocks would give if the French ever did attack them and were in such numbers that they took the lower gun, and came swarming along into the gap.

"We could keep them off after all, I dare say," he said. By this time he was close up to the rough shelter which the men had dubbed the hospital. Drawing aside the canvas hung down over the doorway, he was about to step in when there was a rush, the candle was knocked down, and by its feeble glimmer, where it lay on the rocky floor, he caught a glimpse of something dark which rushed at him, drove him backwards, and disappeared in the darkness.

"You stupid idiot!" cried Syd, in a loud whisper. "Frightened him, I suppose, going in so quickly."

He once more stepped into the rough place, to see with astonishment the sailor who had been placed there to relieve Roylance, in the act of picking up the candle from where it lay flickering on the floor.

"Tumbled down, sir," said the man, confusedly.

"Tumbled down!" cried Sydney, in an angry whisper; "why, you lazy rascal, you were asleep!"

"Sleep, sir?"

"Yes. Who was that in here just now?"

"Here, sir; and banged out o' the door there! Wasn't it you?"

"No--no," whispered Syd, who grasped the position now; "it must have been that beast we are trying to catch. Yes; he has taken the biscuit that lay there while you slept."

"Very sorry, sir; been hard at work, and--"

Sydney heard no more. He had dashed out of the canvas-covered hut and run swiftly down toward the lower gun.

"Look out, Roylance! Strake!" he shouted; "it's coming your way."

_Bang_!

A pause as the shot echoed among the rocks. Then there was another report, and a wild cry. Then silence, broken directly after by the muttering of men's voices.

"Got it," cried Syd.

"Yes; Strake has brought it down. It came with a rush between us, and he fired, and then fired again."

"Yes, I heard. What is it--a bear?"

"Don't know; we want a candle. I'll fetch the one from Mr Dallas's place and shade it with my hat."

Roylance went on toward the hospital, while Sydney cautiously felt his way among the rocks, full of excitement and eagerness to learn what the strange creature might be.

"Hi! where are you?" he shouted.

"This way, sir," answered a voice, which he recognised as that of Rogers.

He hurried on, the shout coming from close by the lower gun, and as he reached the spot he made out the group of figures, and heard the boatswain's gruff voice groaning out--

"Oh, lor'! Oh, lor'! Oh, lor'!" Then in angry tones--"It sarved you right. No business carrying on games like that."

"What's the matter?" cried Syd. "Is any one hurt? Haven't you shot the bear?"

"It warn't no bear, sir," said Rogers, excitedly; "it was young Pan Strake, and his father's brought him down."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

"Ha' mussy on us! Here, Mr Belton, sir, quick," cried the boatswain, hoa.r.s.ely. "You said I warn't to bring pistols. Wish him as 'vented 'em had been drowned first. Look ye here, sir; is no one going to bring a light? Mr Belton, sir; Master Syd; pray make haste. I've made you another job."

All this in a wild, excited manner, as, trembling now with horror, Sydney knelt down by a dark-looking object on the rocks, lying quite motionless, and for a few moments he could not collect himself sufficiently to render any aid.

"Ha' mussy on us!" groaned the boatswain. Then with an angry burst, "I want to know how he got here."

"Stowed hisself away in the boat," said one of the men, "when we corned away, but I thought he'd gone back again to the s.h.i.+p."

"Brought him down. My own boy," groaned the boatswain. "Ah, here's the light."

"Quick! Stand round so as to shelter the candle," cried Syd, who was now recovering himself and trying to act in a calm, business-like manner; and directly after he was kneeling there in the centre of that ring of anxious faces, and proceeding by the light of the candle, which the boatswain held down, to examine the boy, who lay curled up in a heap.

To all appearances he was dead, so still did he lie; but the moment Syd took hold of one hand to feel the injured boy's pulse, there was a sudden spasmodic jerk and a loud yell which went echoing up the valley.

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Syd, for he knew it was a good sign. "Hold still, Pan," he continued, gently; "let me see where you are hurt."

"Let him be, sir. I've killed um, I know I have!"

Syd tried to find where the boy was wounded, but at every touch Pan shrieked out as if in agony, and kicked out his legs and drew himself up again as if trying to make himself into a ball.