Desert Dust Part 42

"By staying; by not surrendering yourself--your honor, my honor. By saying that you'd rather stay with me, for life, for death, here, anywhere--after I've said that I'm not deaf, blind, dumb, ungrateful. I love you; I'd rather die for you than live without you."

Such a glory glowed in her haggard face and shone from her br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes.

"We will fight, we will fight!" she chanted. "Now I shall not leave you.

Oh, my man! Had you kissed me last night we would have known this longer.

We have so little time." She turned from my lips. "Not now. They're coming. Fight first; and at the end, then kiss me, please, and we'll go together."

The furious yells from that world outside vibrated among our rocks. The Sioux all were in motion, except the prostrate figure of the chief.

Straight onward they charged, at headlong gallop, to ride over us like a grotesquely tinted wave, and the dull drumming of their ponies' hoofs beat a diapason to the shrill clamor of their voices. It was enough to cow, but she spoke steadily.

"You must fire," she said. "Hurry! Fire once, maybe twice, to split them.

I don't think they'll rush us, yet."

So I rose farther on my knees and fired once--and again, pointblank at them with the heavy Colt's. It worked a miracle. Every mother's son of them fell flat upon his pony; they all swooped to right and to left as if the bullets had cleaved them apart in the center; and while I gaped, wondering, they swept past at long range, half on either flank, pelting in bullet and near-spent arrow.

She forced me down.

"Low, low," she warned. "They'll circle. They hold their scalps dearly. We can only wait. That was three. You have fifteen shots left, for them; then, one for me, one for you. You understand?"

"I understand," I replied. "And if I'm disabled----?"

She answered quietly.

"It will be the same. One for you, one for me."

The circle had been formed: a double circle, to move in two directions, scudding ring reversed within scudding ring, the bowmen outermost. Around and 'round and 'round they galloped, yelling, gibing, taunting, shooting so malignantly that the air was in a constant hum and swish. The lead whined and smacked, the shafts streaked and clattered----

"Are you sorry I shot the chief?" I asked. Amid the confusion my blood was coursing evenly, and I was not afraid. Of what avail was fear?

"I'm glad, glad," she proclaimed. But with sudden movement she was gone, bending low, then crawling, then whisking from sight. Had she abandoned me, after all? Had she--no! G.o.d be thanked, here she came back, flushed and triumphant, a canteen in her hand.

"The mules might break," she explained, short of breath. "This canteen is full. We'll need it. The other mule is frantic. I couldn't touch her."

At the moment I thought how wise and brave and beautiful she was! Mine for the hour, here--and after? Montoyo should never have her; not in life nor in death.

"You must stop some of those fiends from sneaking closer," she counseled.

"See? They're trying us out."

More and more frequently some one of the scurrying enemy veered sharply, tore in toward us, hanging upon the farther side of his horse; boldly jerked erect and shot, and with demi-volt of his mount was away, whooping.

I had been desperately saving the ammunition, to eke out this hour of mine with her. Every note from the revolver summoned the end a little nearer.

But we had our game to play; and after all, the end was certain. So under her prompting (she being partner, commander, everything), when the next painted ruffian--a burly fellow in drapery of flannel-fringed cotton s.h.i.+rt, with flaunting crimson ta.s.sels on his pony's mane--bore down, I guessed shrewdly, arose and let him have it.

She cried out, clapping her hands.

"Good! Good!"

The pony was sprawling and kicking; the rider had hurtled free, and went jumping and dodging like a jack-rabbit.

"To the right! Watch!"

Again I needs must fire, driving the rascals aside with the report of the Colt's. That was five. Not sparing my wounded arm I hastily reloaded, for by custom of the country the hammer had rested over an empty chamber. I filled the cylinder.

"They're killing the mules," she said. "But we can't help it."

The two mules were snorting and plunging; their hoofs rang against the rocks. Sioux to rear had dismounted and were shooting carefully. There was exultant shout--one mule had broken loose. She galloped out, reddened, stirrups swinging, canteen bouncing, right into the waiting line; and down she lunged, abristle with feathered points launched into her by sheer spiteful joy.

The firing was resumed. We heard the other mule scream with note indescribable; we heard him flounder and kick; and again the savages yelled.

Now they all charged recklessly from the four sides; and I had to stand and fire, right, left, before, behind, emptying the gun once more ere they scattered and fled. I sensed her fingers twitching at my belt, extracting fresh cartridges. We sank, breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, and bluer than any deepest summer sea; her face aflame; her hair of purest gold--and upon her shoulder a challenging oriflamme of scarlet, staining a rent in the faded calico.

"You're hurt!" I blurted, aghast.

"Not much. A scratch. Don't mind it. And you?"

"I'm not touched."

"Load, sir. But I think we'll have a little s.p.a.ce. How many left? Nine."

She had been counting. "Seven for them."

"Seven for them," I acknowledged. I tucked home the loads; the six-shooter was ready.

"Now let them come," she murmured.

"Let them come," I echoed. We looked one upon the other, and we smiled. It was not so bad, this place, our minds having been made up to it. In fact, there was something sweet. Our present was a.s.sured; we faced a future together, at least; we were in accord.

The Sioux had retired, mainly to sit dismounted in close circle, for a confab. Occasionally a young brave, a vidette, exuberantly galloped for us, dared us, shook hand and weapon at us, no doubt spat at us, and gained nothing by his brag.

"What will they do next?" I asked.

"I don't know," said she. "We shall see, though."

So we lay, gazing, not speaking. The sun streamed down, flattening the desert with his fervent beams until the uplifts cringed low and in the horizons the mountain peaks floated languidly upon the waves of heat. And in all this dispa.s.sionate land, from horizon to horizon, there were only My Lady and I, and the beleaguering Sioux. It seemed unreal, a fantasy; but the rocks began to smell scorched, a sudden thirst nagged and my wounded arm pained with weariness as if to remind that I was here, in the body. Yes, and here she was, also, in the flesh, as much as I, for she stirred, glanced at me, and smiled. I heard her, saw her, felt her presence. I placed my hand over hers.

"What is it?" she queried.

"Nothing. I wanted to make sure."

"Of yourself?"

"Of you, me--of everything."

"There can be no doubt," she said. "I wish there might, for your sake."

"No," I thickly answered. "If you were only out of it--if we could find some way."

"I'd rather be in here, with you," said she.

"And I, with you, then," I replied honestly. The thought of water obsessed. She must have read, for she inquired: