Prisoners of Chance Part 22

From behind the roughly piled bowlders in my front I had a fair view up the valley, and was enabled to mark clearly the attacking party as it advanced cautiously toward our position. It was composed of some thirty members, well-appearing fellows for savages, naked from the waist up, their exposed bodies quite light in color, and unpainted as is the usual Indian custom for war. Their leader was a tall fellow, having a head of matted coa.r.s.e hair, which stood almost erect, thus yielding him a peculiarly ferocious aspect. The entire band moved forward, as if in response to prearranged signals, which must have been conveyed by motion, as I could distinguish not the slightest sound of speech. However, it was a relief to note they bore no weapons in their hands excepting the spear and the war-club, clear evidence that they had limited, if any, trade intercourse with Europeans. Yet they came on with such steadiness of purpose, amid such impressive silence, I instinctively felt we stood opposed to no tribe of cowards, whatever their name.

As they crept, rather than walked, forward into the open s.p.a.ce in our front, their restless, searching eyes were not long in perceiving the irregular outlines of our rude barricade, nor were they dilatory in deciding that behind that pile of rock were to be discovered those they sought. No attacking party operating upon the eastern continent, guided by all the strategy of civilized war, could have acted more promptly, or to better purpose. The old chief made a quick, peculiar gesture from left to right, and in instant response his cl.u.s.tered bunch of warriors spread out in regulated intervals, a.s.suming positions not unlike the sticks of a fan such as the Creoles use, until they formed a complete semicircle, their flanks close in against the cliff, and their centre well back upon the bank of the stream. It was a pretty movement, executed with the precision of long discipline, and De Noyan brought his hand down applauding upon his knee.

"_Parbleu_!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. "'Twas as well done as by troops of the line. I look for a warm time presently, when we cross arms with those fellows."

Even as he spoke, I observed the old chief pa.s.sing rapidly from man to man, speaking briefly to each in turn and pointing toward us, as though giving special directions for the coming a.s.sault.

"Chevalier," I whispered, "would it not be well to try a shot at that tall-haired fellow?"

"It appears too great a distance to my eye."

"I have dropped a buck through forest limbs fifty feet farther."

"Then try your fortune," he said eagerly. "It may be those fellows have never heard the crack of a gun. The sound and sudden death might terrorize them."

I took careful aim above the wall, resting my long rifle-barrel in a groove between the stones, and fired. Ever since, it has seemed to me that G.o.d, for some mysterious purpose of His own, deflected the speeding ball, for never before or since did I miss such aim. Yet miss I did, for while the old chief leaped wildly backward, his cheek fanned by the bullet, it was the savage he conversed with who sprang high into air, coming down dead. Nor did a single warrior make a movement to flee. Instead of frightening, it enraged, driving them into savage fury as they stared at the stiffening body of their comrade. Scarcely had the smoke of the discharge drifted upward when, all their former impressive silence broken, and yelling like fiends incarnate, they made an impetuous rush for the hill.

"_Francais_! _Francais_!"

I was certain they used the word, fairly hissing it forth as if in bitter hatred, yet I had short enough time in which to listen as I hastily rammed home a second charge with which to greet them as they came.

"It will be best to draw, Messieurs," spoke De Noyan in a cool, drawling voice. "Ah, that was better, Master Benteen!" as two of the advancing mob went stumbling to the bullet. "It leaves but twenty-seven to the three of us; not such bad odds! Now, friends, yield no step backward, and strike as you never struck before."

I enjoyed little s.p.a.ce in which to glance behind where I knew Eloise crouched beneath the protecting shadow of the great stone, yet I am certain I felt the full magic of her eyes upon me. As I wheeled, newly armed for strife, my hands clutched hard about the rifle-barrel, our fierce a.s.sailants came surging up against the stone wall. It was no time to note what others did; one realizes little at such a supreme moment except the flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes where menacing weapons play across his front; the swift blows continually threatening to crush his guard; the fierce, cruel faces glaring at him eye to eye, and his own desperate efforts to drive and kill. It all abides in fevered memory not unlike those pictures of horror coming of a dark night when lightning leaps from the black void. I mind the first man to reach me, a burly ruffian, whose s.h.i.+ning spear-point missed my throat by so narrow a margin it tasted blood ere my rifle-stock crushed the side of his head and sent him backward, a reeling corpse into the ma.s.s at his heels. Then all was confusion, a riot of leaping figures, frantic shouting, and clanging weapons, and I know not what was done, except that I struck out like a crazed man, heedless of what might be aimed at me, but letting drive at every savage head within range, until, at last, there seemed no others in my front. Then, as I paused, breathless and uncertain, pa.s.sing my hand across my eyes to clear them from the blood and hair which half blinded me, I heard De Noyan's drawling tone.

"Most beautifully done, Master Benteen, and as for our red-headed preacher, by the memory of Jeanne d'Arc, the like of him as fighting man I have never seen."

I leaned back heavily against the stones, now the strain of battle had relaxed, feeling strangely weakened by my exertions as well as the loss of blood, and glanced about me. The discomfited savages had fallen sullenly back to the bank of the stream, where they bunched together as if in council, and I noted more than one wounded man among them. De Noyan sat recklessly upon the stone wall, dangling his long legs, and, back turned contemptuously upon our foe, was carefully examining the edge of his sword.

"I was fool enough to attempt a down cut," he explained, observing my eyes upon him. "I tried it on that savage who lies yonder, and it was rather a neat stroke, yet has sorely nicked the blade."

"Where is the Puritan?" I asked, not seeing him.

"Stretched yonder at rest; he did needlessly exhaust himself, not knowing how best to wield his weapon. _Sacre_! he struck hard blows, and will have two savages for whom to make answer in the Day of Judgment."

"What loss did the fellows sustain?" I questioned, the cut at the edge of my hair half blinding me with dripping blood.

"We dropped seven between us, counting those who fell to your fire, and there are others who hardly appear in condition for further fighting.

As to the garrison, you seem to possess a flesh wound or two, the head of the Puritan rings merrily yet from the tap of a war-club, while I boast a boot full of blood; 'tis none of it serious."

"They will attack again?"

"Ay! those lads are not of the breed to let up with one bite; and mark you, man, it is going to be the next turn that will test our mettle."

He deliberately changed his posture, glancing carelessly across his shoulder.

"Do you know aught regarding those devils, Master Benteen?"

"They are strange to me; no kin, I think, to any tribe east of the great river."

He sat in silent contemplation a long moment, his eyes fastened upon the savage group.

"Did you chance to notice," he asked at last, speaking more thoughtfully, "how they hissed that word 'Francais,' when they first rushed up the hill upon us? It somehow recalled to memory an odd tale told me long ago by old Major Duponceau, who was out with the troops in 1729, about a strange people they warred against down on the Ocatahoola. These must be either the same savages--although he swore they were put to the sword--or else of the same stock, and have felt the taste of French steel."

"What did he call them?"

"Natchez; although I remember now he referred to them once as 'White Apples,' saying they were of fair skin. He told me, but I recall little of it, many a strange story of their habits and appearance, to ill.u.s.trate how greatly they differed from other tribes of savages with whom he had met. They wors.h.i.+pped the sun."

"'T is true of the Creeks."

"Ay! they play at it, but with the Natchez 't is a real religion; they had a priesthood and altars of sacrifice, on which the fires were never quenched. Their victims died with all the ardor of fanaticism, and in peace and war the sun was their G.o.d, ever demanding offering of blood.

But see, the moment comes when we must front those fiends again."

The afternoon sun had lowered so that its glaring rays no longer brightened the depths of the canyon, all upon our side of the stream lying quiet in the shadow. The Indians began their advance toward us in much the same formation as before, but more cautiously, with less noisy demonstration, permitting me to note they had slung their weapons to their backs, bearing in their hands ugly fragments of rock. The old matted-hair savage, who had received a severe slash upon his shoulder during our last _melee_, hung well to the rear, contenting himself with giving encouragement to the others.

"Stand stoutly to the work, friend Cairnes," I called across to him, feeling the heartsome sound of English speech might prove welcome. "If we drive them this time, they will hardly seek more at our hands."

"It will be even according to the will of the Lord of Hosts," he returned piously. "Yet I greatly fear lest my sword-blade be not sound within its hilt."

"Stoop low for the volley of rocks," commanded De Noyan, hastily, "then stand up to it with all the strength you have."

Halfway up the little hill they let fly a vicious volley, the hard missiles cras.h.i.+ng against the face of the rock, and showering down on backs and heads, some of them with painful force. As we sprang to our posts of defence once more, the savages were already nearly within spear-length of us, and, to our disastrous surprise, delivered a second volley of stones directly into our faces. One jagged rock glanced from off my rifle-barrel, striking me on the side of the head with sufficient force to send me staggering back against the stone slab.

Before I could regain place the Indians swarmed over the low wall, two of them, in spite of fierce struggles, bearing me backward to the ground. Through a half-blinding mist of blood I beheld a carven war-club uplifted in the air, noted the face, distorted by pa.s.sion, of the naked giant wielding it; yet, before I could close my eyes to the swift blow, there came a sudden flash of fire mingled with a sharp report. As if stricken by a lightning-bolt the huge fellow plunged forward, his body across my feet. Involuntarily I gave vent to a groan of despair, realizing that Madame, in an effort to preserve my life, had thrown away her sole chance to escape torture, or an existence worse than death.

The knowledge nerved me to renewed struggle, but ere I could rid myself of that body pinning me fast, others hurled themselves upon us, striking and snarling like a pack of hounds who had overtaken their quarry. It would have been over in another minute; I already felt the grind of a stone knife-point at my throat, able to gain only a poor grip on the fellow's wrist, when suddenly, sounding clear as a bell above that h.e.l.lish uproar, a single voice uttered an imperative command.

Instantly each Indian's face was upturned toward where such unexpected summons came, and, lying as I did flat upon my back, my eyes gazed across the narrow valley, to the summit of the cliff on the farther side. There, solitary, a carven statue full in the glow of the westering sun, turning her garments golden, and lightening her rich profusion of hair into radiant beauty, stood a young woman of white face and slender, stately figure. It was no time to note dress, yet I could not fail to observe the flowing white robe, draped from shoulders to feet, gracefully falling away from an extended arm, as she stood thus in regal poise looking down upon us. There was a suggestion of despotic power in both face and posture, and the ring of stern authority spoke in the sound of her voice.

Twice she addressed our savage captors in brief sentences strange to my ears, once pointing directly at us, once with sweeping gesture up the valley. A moment longer she remained motionless, bending slightly forward, permitting the rich, reddish gold of her hair to flash and s.h.i.+mmer in the suns.h.i.+ne; then she stepped swiftly back from the dizzy summit, vanis.h.i.+ng instantly, as if dissolved in the haze.

CHAPTER XXI

THE STRONGHOLD OF THE NATCHEZ

We were hopelessly prisoners. On my part further struggle had become impossible, nor elsewhere did any effort last long, although Cairnes had to be knocked insensible before the heathen finally mastered him.

I believed the obstinate fellow dead, so ghastly white appeared his usually florid face as the victorious savages dragged him roughly past where I lay, flinging his heavy body down like carrion upon the rocks.

De Noyan appeared badly cut, his gallant clothing clinging to him in fluttering rags, silent witnesses to the manliness of his struggle.

Yet the Chevalier was far from done.

"Let me sit up, you villains!" he cried, vigorously kicking at a pa.s.sing s.h.i.+n. "'T is not my custom to lie with head so low. Ah, Benteen," he smiled pleasantly across at me, his eyes kindling at the recollection, "that was the n.o.blest fighting that ever came my way, yet 'tis likely we shall pay well for our fun. _Sacre_! 't is no pleasant face, that of their grim war-chief, nor one to inspire a man with hope as he makes plea for mercy."

"Marry, no," I replied, determined on exhibiting no greater outward concern than he. "Nor will the ugly clip on his shoulder leave his humor happier."

The Chevalier's eyes danced at the recollection.

"'T was our preacher friend who sheared him. I hold it a master-stroke; but for a spear-b.u.t.t on the way it would have cleft the fellow into two equal parts. Have you seen aught of Eloise since the fight?"