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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 35. The Help That Came Late |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. THE HELP THAT CAME LATE There was a momentary pause, and then-- _Scratch_ went the match, and the tiny flame feebly lit up the place, to show them the great dog sitting at the edge of the shaft, looking down. Then the light went out. "All right, my sons," said Tregelly coolly. "Let's go in and get the lantern. The beggar has rolled about, and dropped down the pit. Sorry we can't cover him up. But we can't, on account of the gold." Just then there came a hail, and another, and another, while when the lantern was lit and held up it served as a beacon to bring six men up to the hut door. "Got the other one?" cried Tregelly. "No; he got away in the darkness," said Norton. "But what about the one you shot at?" "He's yonder," said Tregelly. "Rolled down into the shaft." So it proved, for by the light of the lantern the body of one of the marauders was hauled up. "Stone dead," said Tregelly. "Well, it has saved him from being hanged." "And others from having to do it," said another. "But no one will be safe till his mate's in the same state," said Tregelly. "And he soon will be," said another. "Glad we all came in time to help you two." "We are most grateful, gentlemen," said Dallas. "Leave the unhappy wretch where he is. Come inside, and rest and refresh." It was about an hour later, when their fellow gold-seekers who had come to their help had gone, promising to return next day and help over the interment of the dead man, that Dallas turned to Tregelly, who was seated with his big arms resting upon his knees, gazing down into the cheery fire that had been lit. "Sleepy, Bob?" "Nay, my son. Never felt so wide awake in my life. I'm thinking." "What about?" asked Abel. "About having killed a man," said the big fellow gravely. "It was in self-defence," said Dallas. "I dunno, my son. You see, I never give him a chance. Seems rather cowardly." "The wretch was trying to destroy our lives," cried Abel hotly. "Eh?" "Yes; he and his companion had been firing at us for long enough," said Abel. "Ah," cried Dallas, "and they did wound the dog. Here, old fellow, let's look at you." In effect, the dog was just then licking at one particular part of his back, and examination proved that a bullet had ploughed off a little strip of skin. "Only make him sore for a bit," said Tregelly, after he had examined the dog in turn. "Poor old chap! I wish I'd a bit o' pitch to touch it over for you. But I hadn't thought of that, my sons." "Thought of what?" "'Bout him trying to kill you. That didn't make it quite so bad o' me, did it?" "Bad? It was stern justice, meted out to a murderer," said Dallas firmly. Tregelly looked at him for some moments thoughtfully. "Think so?" he said. "Of course!" cried Abel, "and so do I. You didn't want us to be killed, did you?" "Lor' a mussy me, my son! of course not. That's why I took aim at him." "And saved our lives, Bob," cried Dallas, clapping him hard on the shoulder. "You think, then, that they'd have settled you if I hadn't come and stopped their little game?" "I feel sure of it," cried Dallas. "Hah! Yes, of course. Thank ye, my sons. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable, and beginning to think that I should be having the chap coming to bed to me every night and telling me how I'd shot him in a cowardly way; but I shan't now. That's done me a lot o' good. Hah! I feel now as if I should like a pipe." The big, amiable, honest face lit up, and was lightened by a smile as he began searching his pockets for his tobacco-pouch and pipe. "You see, I never killed a man before," he said. "But you can hardly call a chap like that a man. More like a wild beast--sort o' tiger." "It's insulting a wild beast to say so, Bob," cried Dallas warmly. "A wild beast kills for the sake of food. What's the matter?" "Pipe," said Tregelly, rising slowly and reaching out for the lantern. "I told you I dropped it out yonder, and it's somewhere by the sledge." "Leave that till daylight, and we'll go with you." "Won't be any daylight for hours and hours to come," said Tregelly, putting out the light and feeling for his matches. "I can't wait all that time for a pipe. 'Sides, the sledge ought to be brought in." "You mean to go now," said Dallas. "Oh, yes, my son, I mean to go now. 'Tarn't so very far." "All right; we'll go with him, Bel. There's no fear of the other scoundrel being about." "I don't know, my sons," said Tregelly gravely. "He can't be very far away, and he's got his knife into us very deep now. P'r'aps it would be as well if you stopped here and got the breakfast ready." "If we did," replied Dallas, "we should feel that you would never come back to eat it. Eh, Bel?" "Yes; I'm going. We must leave Scruff to keep house for us this time." But the dog did not seem to see matters in the same light. One minute he was giving a finishing lick to his wound; the next he had shot out through the open door, barking excitedly, and looking ready to scent out and run down the last of the savage gang. _ |
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