CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.
OPEN-AIR SURGERY.
"Griggs!" shouted Chris excitedly.
"Why, there you are! The doctor's gone the other way to see if he couldfind a gully by which he could climb up to try and find you. I camethis way. Same purpose, and I've got all the luck. Take care! Mind!These stones are slippery."
"Yes, I'll mind," said Chris, as he descended the rocks backwards."This is nothing; but hadn't you better run and tell father you've foundme?"
"Nay! I'm not going to brag. I didn't find you; you seem to have foundme. Then you haven't broken your neck?"
"No."
"How many legs are snapped?"
"None," said Chris, who threatened to break one directly, so recklesswas his progress.
"Arms, then?"
"I'm all right, I tell you, only a bit knocked about; but where's Ned?"
"Along with his father on the upper terrace, giving the Indians a bit ofa shot now and then to keep them from coming up after the mules."
"But can they do it alone?"
"Oh yes; the brutes are sad cowards and don't like powder and shot atall."
"There!" cried Chris, leaping to earth and coming close to the American."Now then, I want to join father."
"That's soon done," said Griggs; "but keep an eye up towards the topyonder, and 'ware arrows."
"Yes, I know," said Chris excitedly.
"Of course you do; but they'll be pretty shy of showing themselves now,after our bit of shooting."
"Walk quicker," said Chris. "But tell me, how did the enemy attackyou?"
"That's what we want you to tell us, lad. When they began we wereafraid they had got you. How did it all happen?"
Chris explained in a few words, and then began questioning, to learn howthose he had left behind were nearly taken by surprise, but theirpreparations proved too perfect and a few shots had driven the Indiansback.
"Spoiled our night's rest, though," said Griggs dryly, "for there was nosleep for fear of the redskins stealing by us in the dark and drivingoff the cattle."
"Ah," said Chris, with a sigh. "My poor mustang!"
"Poor brute, yes," said Griggs. "It was a thousand pities. I likedthat pony. He made me jealous of you."
"Don't talk about him," said Chris quickly. "I tried so hard to savehim."
"You did, my lad; you did."
"How do you know?" said Chris, staring.
"How do I know? Why, didn't I tell you the redskins spoiled our night'srest?"
"Yes."
"Well, that means we were all wide awake at daybreak."
"Then you saw all?" cried Chris.
"Why, certainly. Ned had the glass and was telescoping in alldirections up and down the valley, looking out for squalls, when hesuddenly made us all jump nearly out of our skins for joy by shoutingout, `There's Chris!'"
"And then you saw all that happened?"
"To be sure we did," said Griggs; "everything, and precious unpleasantsome of it was. It brought us into action pretty soon though, making ushurry up towards the head of the valley here on the chance of getting agood shot or two in amongst our savage friends."
Chris turned round and looked the American full in the face, but withoutspeaking.
"Well, what's the matter, lad? Smudgy with gunpowder? Oh, I've had notime to wash this morning."
"Griggs," cried Chris excitedly, "who was it fired that shot?"
"Which one, my lad? We sent a good many flying."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, who was firing. Your father, of course."
"You're prevaricating, Griggs," cried Chris huskily. "Tell me at oncewho fired that shot?"
"Which one? We tumbled two or three, or more, of the enemy down. Sodid you. I heard your rifle crack, and saw them come off the cliff."
"No nonsense, Griggs; you know what I mean. I say, who fired thatshot?"
"And I say which one? There were so many."
"The one that saved my life."
"Oh, I see," cried the American; "that one. Well, I think it was eitherme or the doctor, but we were in such a state of excitement that it'sdoubtful."
"There, I was sure of it from the first," cried Chris, holding out hishand; "it was you, Griggs."
"I don't say it was, and I don't say it wasn't, my lad," said theAmerican, turning away carelessly as if not seeing the extended hand;"but look here, it was bad enough for you, that set-to with theredskins; but it was all excitement and action; you had no time tothink. It was a hundred times worse for us down below here."
"Indeed?" said Chris half mockingly.
"Yes, indeed. I tell you, my lad, I never passed such a bad half-hourbefore in my life. We could see every movement, except when yougalloped out of sight. It all stood out like a picture against theclear morning sky, while there we were nearly all the time, afraid toshoot because we were more likely to hit you than the enemy. My word, Ifelt bad enough, but it was just horrible for the doctor."
"Poor father!" said Chris.
"You may well say that, my lad. P'r'aps you don't know it, but hethinks a deal of you, my lad."
"Why, of course," cried Chris.
"Very foolish of him, I suppose, but then he don't know you so well as Ido. He's prejudiced, you see."
"I suppose so," said Chris.
"My word, he did take on when he saw the mustang come over the cliff anddrag you after it!"
"Don't talk about it," cried Chris with a shudder.
"Why not? I think it was very fine now. We were a bit worried atfirst, and the doctor couldn't shoot at all for some time; but as soonas we heard you begin to pop and the redskins came down, we nearly wentmad with joy. I saw, though he didn't say much out loud, but I justcaught sight of his lips moving now and then; and the way he shotafterwards--I don't believe he made a miss. I say, the redskins weresoon tired of showing their faces over the edge of the cliff. But, myword, Chris, lad, you had a narrow escape!"
"Several," said Chris, smiling.
"Ah! Yes! You ought to have been killed with the arrows."
"Ought I?"
"Yes, that you ought. Those fellows shoot very straight, and send thosethin splints of wood with tremendous force."
"They do," sighed Chris. "My poor mustang!"
"Ah! Poor plucky little thing; he nearly killed you too."
"In his agony, poor creature. He was shot savagely."
"Ah! Yes. Seems rather hard on him--a horse to be shot by means of ahorse."
"I don't understand you," said Chris, staring.
"No? Don't you know what some of their bows are?"
"Oh, you mean the strings. Made out of twisted gut, perhaps."
"That's quite right, my lad, but not what I meant. I meant the bowsthemselves."
"Some very tough wood, I suppose, like the yew with which the Englishused to make bows."
"Nay. Lots of them are made of horses' or buffaloes' ribs. They'rehandy and short and tough. You know with what a whing they can send anarrow."
"I didn't know that," said Chris thoughtfully.
"Didn't you, now?" said Griggs mockingly. "I shouldn't wonder if thereare two or three more things that you haven't found out yet. But, as Iwas saying, you ought to have been a dead one over that job, squire.The redskins meant you; but they got the worst of it. I say, though, Icould teach you a-many things."
"Well, you have taught me many things in shooting and fishing andhunting."
"Well, yes, a few," said the American coolly; "but they're just aboutnothing to what you could teach me."
"I?" cried Chris, staring at him in wonder. "Why, what could I teachyou that you don't know?"
"How to tumble over a cliff like that without doing yourself any worsedamage than making a few scratches, tearing your jacket, and gettingyourself full of dust."
They had been tramping together across the head of the valley as theytalked about their experiences, with Chris keeping a keen lookout aheadfor t
he first glimpse of his father, and giving an occasional look uptowards the edge of the cliff, which he noted was wonderfully broken upinto hollows and prominences, rifts and gorges that had been invisiblefrom a distance, and all overhung by a level band of apparentlyimpassable rock. But during the last few minutes of their chat they hadbeen so deeply interested that neither had glanced upward to theirright, and the first warning they had of danger was given in a quicksharp shout in the doctor's familiar voice.
"Ah, look out!" he cried, and followed up his words by firing; butbefore the bullet left his rifle Chris heard a loud whirring and saw hiscompanion start violently before stooping down a few yards away to picka little arrow from where it had stuck in the ground.
"That's not bad shooting," said Griggs coolly. "Hit him, doctor?"
"Yes," said the latter, hurrying up to catch Chris's hand.
"My boy! my boy!" he cried in a choking voice which prevented him fromsaying more.
But he seemed to give himself a wrench directly after, to speak outplainly and with decision.
"You must keep a sharper lookout, Griggs," he cried. "You forget thatwe are within range of their arrows."
"I shall remember in future, doctor," said the American dryly.
"Did that arrow touch you?" said the doctor anxiously.
"Went right through the leg of my boot, sir," said Griggs coolly.
"But it did not graze you? Why, man, you're bleeding fast!"
"Oh, it's nothing, sir," said the man.
"How do you know?" cried the doctor. "Here, let's get behind thatstone. They can't touch us there."
Griggs walked firmly enough half the distance to the shelter sought for,but he limped the rest of the way, and was ready enough to sit downbehind the rock and let the doctor go on one knee to carefully draw upthe bloodstained bottom of the man's trousers just above where it wasthrust into the high boot.
"Hah!" sighed the doctor. "Only a clean little cut in the flesh. I'llput a stitch or two in it. Why, it's as clean as if done with a knife."
The doctor had laid his rifle ready to hand, and was busy at onceopening a pocket-book containing the necessaries he required; but firstof all he pulled round the bottle slung over his shoulder and carefullywashed the diagonal cut.
"You don't think there's poison in it, do you, doctor?" said theAmerican, with a look of amusement.
"Any form of dirt is poison to a wound," said the doctor, drying theplace; and then, after deftly drawing the edges of the wound together,cutting some strips of plaister with the bright scissors ready, andapplying them to keep all protected from the air.
"Hurt much?" he said, as he worked away, Chris watching the while as iftaking a lesson.
"Well, yes, I won't say it don't, doctor; but not worse than I feelsomewhere else. I say, though, hadn't we better make haste back to thefort?"
"Yes; you feel faint, don't you?"
"Horribly," said Griggs, giving Chris a comical look.
"Let's go, then. Put your foot as lightly as you can to the ground, andlean on me. We must get out of bowshot as quickly as we can."
"Tchah! Only my nonsense, doctor," said Griggs cheerily. "My faintnessis the same as squire's here. We want our breakfast horribly."
"Oh," cried the doctor, smiling. "I was afraid it was from your wound.I don't wonder that you are faint, Chris. But one moment, boy, do youthink the Indians can lower themselves down over the edge of the cliff?"
"No, father; not unless they are ready to drop as I did."
"How far?"
"Can't tell," said Chris, with an involuntary shudder. "It was ratherhorrible, and I wonder I wasn't killed."
"And I wonder too," said the doctor solemnly. "I don't think that theywill dare to descend in the daytime, for they will be afraid that we arewaiting to fire at all who show; so come on. Are you sure you can walk,Griggs?"
"Walk, sir? I should like to run."
"But your leg must smart."
"Hardly smarts, sir; it's just as if somebody was playing at sewing itup with a red-hot skewer. Nice bold refreshing sort of pain.--Tchah!That's all right."
"But where are the mules and ponies, father?" said Chris, as theyhurried now in the direction of the terraced cliff on their right.
"Hobbled, and grazing at the foot of our cliff under shelter of a coupleof rifles."
"But there are more Indians at the mouth of the gulch?"
"I don't know," said the doctor. "They had a fire burning there lastnight."
"Yes," said Chris dryly, "I know;" but he did not then attempt toexplain how he knew.
"They haven't shown since they felt the effect of our bullets, butthey're as cunning as they are treacherous, and one never knows whatthey may be about."
Some quarter of an hour later the adventurers were all in shelter, oneof the cells of the lower range having been turned into a temporarymess-room, while the next showed signs of cooking in the shape of acurling little column of smoke; there was water in buckets outside onthe terrace, where, behind a kind of breastwork hastily piled-up, watchwas being kept; and well in sight there were the animals of the littletrain, grazing contentedly enough well within range of the watchers'rifles.
Chris felt like a hero after the warmth of his welcome was beginning tocool down. He had eaten almost ravenously, and assuaged the greatthirst from which he had suffered. But now the great desire from whichhe suffered was want of sleep, for he was utterly weary and so stiffthat he could hardly refrain from uttering a groan.
All the same he had been obliged to relate his adventures once more--such of them as had not been seen from the valley. But at last he waslying down in the cool shade in one of the cells and dropping off, butonly to be aroused by the coming in of Ned, who was eager to hear more.
"You are a lucky one, Chris," he said, in an ill-used tone.
"What!" cried the boy angrily; but the next moment the remark presentedsuch a ludicrous side that he began to laugh, and then, possibly fromexhaustion and the result of the exciting passages he had gone through,his mirth grew at once almost hysterical, so that he could not checkhimself.
"Why, what's the matter?" cried Ned wonderingly. "Have I said anythingcomic?"
"Horribly," panted Chris; "but I do wish you'd go, and let me sleep."
"I will soon," said Ned; "but I don't see what there is to laugh at,unless you feel jolly triumphant at getting all the best of theexpedition to yourself."
"I do," said Chris. "It was lovely being shot at with arrows andtumbling down those precipices, better than any dream I ever had."
The boy's face looked mirthful, and Ned did not notice the bitterlysarcastic ring there was in his comrade's words, as he said in anenvious tone--
"Well, it's all very fine, but I shall tell father that it isn't fairfor you to be made the favourite, and I don't think you've behavedwell."
"Don't you?" said Chris, sobering down. "I'm very sorry; but I've donethe best I could."
"Perhaps so, but I don't think that if I had lost my pony I could havelain there and grinned as you've done. Poor brute! I almost believe Iwould rather have died myself."
Chris was perfectly sobered now, and as Ned walked away he lay there inthe cool shadow with a peculiar look in his weary eyes, while, far fromdesiring sleep, he could only lie hot-headed and in feverish pain,thinking of the gallant way in which the pony had galloped to save hislife.
It was long before he slept, and when he did it was to go through mostof the events of the past night and morning again in feverish dreams.But at last he slept too heavily for dreams. Nature required rest, andthe boy lay breathing in the cool mountain air and sleeping as if hemeant to crowd the rest of two nights into one.