Staggering to my feet, I tried to run on, fell again, and putting down my hand found it smeared with blood.Aman came by, paused an instant while his eye caught me, and ran on again.I shall remember his face and name to my dying day; but there is no reason to put it down here.In a few seconds' space as I lay I suffered all the pains of captivity and of death by torture, that cry of savage man an hundred times more frightful than savage beast sounding in my ears, and plainly nearer now by half the first distance.Nearer, and nearer yet--and then I heard my name called.I was lifted from the ground, and found myself in the lithe arms of Polly Ann.
``Set me down!'' I screamed, ``set me down!'' and must have added some of the curses I had heard in the fort.But she clutched me tightly (God bless the memory of those frontier women!), and flew like a deer toward the gates.Over her shoulder I glanced back.A spare three hundred yards away in a ragged line a hundred red devils were bounding after us with feathers flying and mouths open as they yelled.Again I cried to her to set me down; but though her heart beat faster and her breath came shorter, she held me the tighter.Second by second they gained on us, relentlessly.Were we near the fort? Hoarse shouts answered the question, but they seemed distant--too distant.The savages were gaining, and Polly Ann's breath quicker still.She staggered, but the brave soul had no thought of faltering.I had a sight of a man on a plough horse with dangling harness coming up from somewhere, of the man leaping off, of ourselves being pitched on the animal's bony back and clinging there at the gallop, the man running at the side.Shots whistled over our heads, and here was the brown fort.
Its big gates swung together as we dashed through the narrowed opening.Then, as he lifted us off, I knew that the man who had saved us was Tom himself.The gates closed with a bang, and a patter of bullets beat against them like rain.
Through the shouting and confusion came a cry in a voice I knew, now pleading, now commanding.
``Open, open! For God's sake open!''
``It's Ray! Open for Ray! Ray's out!''
Some were seizing the bar to thrust it back when the heavy figure of McGary crushed into the crowd beside it.
``By Job, I'll shoot the man that touches it!'' he shouted, as he tore them away.But the sturdiest of them went again to it, and cursed him.And while they fought backward and forward, the lad's mother, Mrs.Ray, cried out to them to open in tones to rend their hearts.But McGary had gained the bar and swore (perhaps wisely)that he would not sacrifice the station for one man.
Where was Ray?
Where was Ray, indeed? It seemed as if no man might live in the hellish storm that raged without the walls: as if the very impetus of hate and fury would carry the ravages over the stockade to murder us.Into the turmoil at the gate came Colonel Clark, sending the disputants this way and that to defend the fort, McGary to command one quarter, Harrod and Bowman another, and every man that could be found to a loophole, while Mrs.Ray continued to run up and down, wringing her hands, now facing one man, now another.Some of her words came to me, shrilly, above the noise.
``He fed you--he fed you.Oh, my God, and you are grateful--grateful! When you were starving he risked his life--''
Torn by anxiety for my friend, I dragged myself into the nearest cabin, and a man was fighting there in the half-light at the port.The huge figure I knew to be my friend Cowan's, and when he drew back to load I seized his arm, shouting Ray's name.Although the lead was pattering on the other side of the logs, Cowan lifted me to the port.
And there, stretched on the ground behind a stump, within twenty feet of the walls, was James.Even as I looked the puffs of dust at his side showed that the savages knew his refuge.I saw him level and fire, and then Bill Cowan set me down and began to ram in a charge with tremendous energy.
Was there no way to save Ray? I stood turning this problem in my mind, subconsciously aware of Cowan's movements: of his yells when he thought he had made a shot, when Polly Ann appeared at the doorway.Darting in, she fairly hauled me to the shake-down in the far corner.
``Will ye bleed to death, Davy?'' she cried, as she slipped off my legging and bent over the wound.Her eye lighting on a gourdful of water on the puncheon table, she tore a strip from her dress and washed and bound me deftly.The bullet was in the flesh, and gave me no great pain.
``Lie there, ye imp!'' she commanded, when she had finished.
``Some one's under the bed,'' said I, for I had heard a movement.
In an instant we were down on our knees on the hard dirt floor, and there was a man's foot in a moccasin! We both grabbed it and pulled, bringing to life a person with little blue eyes and stiff blond hair.
``Swein Poulsson!'' exclaimed Polly Ann, giving him an involuntary kick, ``may the devil give ye shame!''
Swein Poulsson rose to a sitting position and clasped his knees in his hands.
``I haf one great fright,'' said he.
``Send him into the common with the women in yere place, Mis' McChesney,'' growled Cowan, who was loading.
``By tam!'' said Swein Poulsson, leaping to his feet, ``I vill stay here und fight.I am prave once again.''
Stooping down, he searched under the bed, pulled out his rifle, powdered the pan, and flying to the other port, fired.
At that Cowan left his post and snatched the rifle from Poulsson's hands.
``Ye're but wasting powder,'' he cried angrily.
``Then, by tam, I am as vell under the bed,'' said Poulsson.``Vat can I do?''
I had it.
``Dig!'' I shouted; and seizing the astonished Cowan's tomahawk from his belt I set to work furiously chopping at the dirt beneath the log wall.``Dig, so that James can get under.''
Cowan gave me the one look, swore a mighty oath, and leaping to the port shouted to Ray in a thundering voice what we were doing.
``Dig!'' roared Cowan.``Dig, for the love of God, for he can't hear me.''