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To Win or to Die: A Tale of the Klondike Gold Craze, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 34. The Striking Of Another Match |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. THE STRIKING OF ANOTHER MATCH The long-silent dog burst out into a hoarse bark once more, as the two young men knelt there as if paralysed, and the tiny splints died out one by one where they had fallen amongst the wood ashes, while from the roof there was a horrible scrambling, struggling sound, hoarse cries, the crunching of the frozen snow, followed by the scraping sound as of some one sliding down the slope of the roof, and then a dull, heavy thud, a groan or two, and finally complete silence. "He has it," said Dallas hoarsely. "Hush! Hark!" cried Abel. For there was another shot, then another, and another, till quite a dozen had rung out, each growing more and more distant; and as the young men dashed to the door now and threw it open, they saw flashes of light as other shots were fired. Then came shouting, voices calling to one another. "Some of the lads heard the firing at last, and come to our help," said Dallas. "Look out; there's some one coming back," whispered Abel. "I hear him. Be ready, and if he's an enemy let him have it. Hah! Bravo! Good dog! You're not so very bad, then." For at the sound of the heavy footsteps coming at a trot over the creaking snow Scruff uttered a fierce growl, began to bay and dashed out into the darkness. "He'll have him," said Dallas. "But come on; we mustn't leave it all to him." "Hullo there!" came in a cheery, familiar voice. "Good old dog!" and Scruff's fierce bay changed to a whining yelp of pleasure, while Tregelly's hearty cry of "Ahoy!" came. "Ahoy! Ahoy!" was sent out joyfully in answer, and directly after the big Cornishman came trotting up. "Thank God, my sons," he cried. "But what about that chap on the roof? Did I bring him down with those two shots?" "Was it you that fired?" cried the young men in a breath. "Of course. Who did you think it was?" "The enemy--we did not know--some of the others come to our help," was the confused answer, given in a duet. "Nay, it was me, my sons; he gave me such a chance--lighting up a whole box of lucifers. I could see him splendid. Going to burn you out, wasn't he?" "No; to see if we were dead, and, if not, to fire again." "I'm afraid the other beggar has got away." "But you had some one with you?" said Dallas eagerly. "Yes, I suppose so, but it is so plaguy dark. I was so long away that I made up my mind--or something I can't explain made it up for me--to come straight on and get to you early in the night; but that blessed sledge got heavier and heavier, so that I had to stop and rest and have a pipe now and then. Last time I was going to stop I was so near my shanty that I thought I'd go round by it, and see how things were there. So I did; left the sledge and crept up to it, to find a bit of fire smouldering, showing some one lived there; but nobody was at home. No, that isn't right, for when I got inside I struck a match, and somebody was at home; but he didn't live there. Understand?" "That scoundrel who was bitten by the dog?" cried Dallas excitedly. "Was he there?" cried Abel. "His mummy was," said Tregelly. "I dunno how they could do it--I couldn't. I didn't want to live in such company as that. I stayed just as long as the match burned, and then I came away as fast as I could. Ugh! it wasn't nice. Those fellows can't be men." "And then you came on?" "Yes, my son. I came along at a horrible crawl, which was getting slower and slower; for it's no use to deny it--us big chaps have so much to carry on one pair of legs that we're downright lazy ones. There I was, getting slower and slower, and smoking my pipe, and in a rare nasty temper, cussing away at that old sledge for being so heavy, and that sleepy that I kept dropping off fast as a top, and waking up again to find myself going on like a bit o' machinery. 'This won't do,' I says to myself; and I roused up again, knowing that I couldn't have been asleep long, because my pipe wasn't out; but all the same I dreamed a lot, all about dragging a truck on a tram-line down in Botallack mine, right away under the sea. Then I'm blessed if I wasn't asleep again, fast as a top--chap told me once that didn't mean a spinning top, but a _taupe_, which he said was French for dormouse. But that don't matter, do it?" "No, no," said Abel impatiently. "Go on." "All right, my son. Where had I got to?" "You were fast asleep again," said Dallas. "So it was, my son; and then something woke me, and what do you think it was?" "You heard the firing?" "Nay; I must have yawned or sneezed, for I'd dropped my pipe; and I s'pose I'd slept longer that time, and it must have been out, for I couldn't see a spark in the dark, and although I went down on my hands and knees, and crawled in all directions with my nose close to the ground, I couldn't smell it." "What did you do then?" said Abel. "Swore, my son, till I was ashamed of myself, and very thankful I was that you gents couldn't hear me. 'They'd drop your acquaintance, my son,' I said to myself, 'if they heard you.' Then I got up again, and was feeling for the trace, to start off again, thinking a deal of my poor old pipe, when 'Hullo!' I says to myself, 'firing!' There it was, plain enough, two shots together, and after a bit two more. "That was enough for me, so I slips my rifle out from where it was tied on to the sledge. Next minute, as two more shots were fired, I came, leaving the sledge to take care of itself--coming on as fast as I could, feeling sure that the enemy was at you chaps, but wondering why the firing should be so one-sided. Couldn't make it out a bit." "But it went on, and I was wide awake enough now, and hadn't come much farther when I was brought up short by the clicking of guns being cocked, and some one says in a low voice, 'Stand,' he says, 'or we'll blow you out of your skin.' 'Two can play at that,' I says: 'who are you?' 'Norton, and six more,' says the voice; 'who are you?' 'Bob Tregelly o' Trevallack, Cornwall, mates,' I says. 'Good man and true,' says another voice. 'Look here, mate, there's firing going on up at your place; we've heard it ever so long, and couldn't quite make out where it was, but it's there for certain.' 'Yes,' I says, 'come on; but let's spread out and take or make an end of those who are firing.'" "Hah!" ejaculated Abel. "Go on." "They did just as I told 'em, and spread out, while I crept nigher and nigher, reglarly puzzled, for the firing had stopped. Last of all I saw that chap's face as he lit up a whole box of matches. That was enough for me. I knew him again." "Was it Redbeard?" said Dallas excitedly. "No, my son; I'm sorry to say it wasn't the moose with the finest pair of horns; but I had to take what I could get, and I fired. But I've left the sledge out yonder to take care of itself. I hope none o' them ruffians o' street-boys'll find it and get helping themselves." "Then Redbeard has got away again," said Abel. "Don't know yet, my son, till the others come back. They may have had better luck than I did." At that moment Scruff burst out in a deep-toned bark from the back of the hut. "Look out," said Tregelly sharply, as they halted, having reached the front. "We may get a shot if he's only wounded." "Spread out, and let's take both sides together." They separated in the darkness, and advanced with finger on trigger, ready to fire. "Stand!" "Stand!" "Oh, it's you!" "Oh, it's you!" "Yes, my son; it's me. Where's the game I shot?" "We have not seen him," said Dallas. "He must have crawled away." "Wounded beasts are dangerous," said Tregelly, "so look out." "But where's the dog?" said Abel, in a hoarse whisper. "Hi! Scruff! Scruff!" A sharp bark came from close at hand in the darkness. "Look here," whispered the big Cornishman; "you two get your pieces to your shoulders and be ready. I'm going to chance it and light a match. Ready?" "Yes." "Then come on!" _ |
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