Chapter 22: In the Hut

We were so much exhausted by our great efforts that we lay for a minute or two on the floor struggling for breath. Our enemies quickly discovered that something more than human strength was holding the door, and abandoned the attempt to force the entrance. There were a few moments of silence, followed by a rattling volley of rifle and pistol shots. The bullets thudded like hail against the walls. Then a loud voice sang:

Oh, my name is Captain Kidd, As I sailed, Oh, my name is Captain Kidd, And God’s laws I did forbid As I sailed, As I sailed, as I sailed.

“Let him sing on,” said Pike, grimly, “but it’s well fur him it’s so dark or his singin’ an’ his sailin’ might be cut short by a plug uv lead. You fellows lay low, thars a crack or two in the door that ud let a bullet in. Is everybody here?”

It was so dark in the hut that we could not see each other, and Pike began to call the roll:

“Mr. Sheldon?”

“Here!”

“Starboard Sam?”

“Here!”

“Bonneau?”

“Here!”

“Joe Fieldin’?”

“Here!”

“Henry Fieldin’?”

“Here!”

“Wa’al, that makes it right, shore. We’re all in. Anybody hurt?”

There was no answer.

“I’m shore somebody got hurt,” said Pike. “I heard a screech or two, an’ they didn’t come from the other crowd. Who wuz it? Speak out.”

“A bullet clipped my shoulder, and it made me cry out, but it’s nothing,” said Henry. “It’s already stopped bleeding, and I hardly feel it.”

“That’s one,” said Pike; “who wuz the other? Thar wuz another, I know, ‘cause I heard him. Speak up!”

“I guess it wuz me,” said Starboard Sam. “I got my ear burnt. One o’ them pirates put his mark on it with a piece o’ lead, but it don’t matter. I never wuz purty, anyhow, an’ I ain’t goin’ to set up for beauty at my time o’ life.”

“We’ll hev to see to them scratches presently,” said Pike. “Are you all right Bonneau?”

“Oui, oui,” said the little Frenchman. “Nevaire felt bettaire in my life, and I have held ze little fort against all ze robbaires. I feel like a Marshal of ze great Napoleon. I am one mighty warrior.”

“You’ve kivvered yourself with glory, no doubt, Bonneau,” said Pike. “How did it all happen?”

“I was busy cooking,” said Bonneau, “for I knew you would be very hungry when you come home after ze hard digging so many hours in ze rivaire. I have ze fire burning on ze ground near ze hut, and I bend ovaire to push ze chunks togezzer, when crack! zip! bang! goes a gun in ze woods down ze hill. A bullet come along, and its breath fan my face, which is very uncomfortable and very trying for ze nerves. I look up and see a great gang of robbaires, led by one big man, come running towards me. I jump towards ze hut. I seize my rifle and shoot. One of ze robbaires give a great cry and fall over in ze grass. Ze ozzers fire bang! bang! bang! bang! and still come running. Ze bullets fly all around me and make one, two, three holes in my clothes, but not touch me. Zen I jump inside ze hut and close and fasten ze door. Robbaires afraid to come up in ze daylight. I know you come to help, and by and by I signal to you. You understand vairy well and signal back. In ze night I expect both you and ze robbaires to come, and I wait until I hear you whisper through ze crack.”

“You’ve done well, Bonneau, mighty well,” repeated Pike, with emphasis. “You’ve held the fort and the gold with it.”

“Ze gold ees all right in ze cornaire here,” said Bonneau.

“The fust thing we must do,” said Pike, “is to fix them cracks in the door so no stray bullets kin come in.”

He secured a couple of loose timbers and, fastening them to the door, closed the dangerous apertures. Then, fumbling about in the dark, he examined Sam’s and Henry’s hurts and pronounced them trifling, not even worth binding up. These matters attended to, we sat in the dark with our rifles in our hands and waited for some movement on the part of our enemies for we felt safe and sanguine now. The stout walls of the cabin were complete proof against bullets, and we thought ourselves able to beat off any number of brigands. We had plenty of food and all the supplies which miners usually carry, and the fountain was only a few feet from our hut. Pike would be skillful enough to devise some means for us to reach the water without exposing ourselves to shots, and we were well situated to stand a siege of considerable duration. There was only one thing that I dreaded, and I told Pike of my fear.

“Suppose they try to set the house on fire,” I said, “and burn it over our head. What will prevent them from doing that in the darkness, when we cannot see to shoot them as they approach?”

But Pike’s reply was reassuring.

“It kain’t be done,” he said. “The timbers uv the house are too heavy and solid, and besides they’re uv a wood that don’t burn easy. I ain’t afeard uv any-thin’ uv that kind.”

Pike walked to one of the loopholes, which we had left when we built the house for just such an emergency as this, and peeped out. I imitated his example at another loophole, but I could see nothing.

“What do you think has become of them, Pike?” asked Mr. Sheldon.

“Hard to say,” replied the hunter, “but I’ve an idee some uv ‘em are still sneakin’ along by the walls uv the cabin whar we kain’t git at ‘em withbut goin’ outside. Now, ef this place wuz built like the old- fashioned block-house we’d soon send ‘em scatterin’ like brush afore a cyclone. Them forts were two stories, with the upper story projectin’ out over the lower. Then the defenders could shoot straight down at anybody crouchin’ ag’in’ the walls. But, never mind, they’ll git away afore the daylight comes.”

Having failed to see anything, I had taken my eye from the loophole and put my ear to it instead, thinking the sense of hearing might detect something that the sense of sight had failed to reveal. The experiment was a success, for I heard a noise that sounded like a groan. I called Pike’s attention to it and he put his ear to a loophole also.

“I hear it,” he said. “It’s somebody groanin’. Like ez not it’s some one uv the gang that fell when the shootin’ match come off at the door. I guess he’s hurt too bad to get away. Listen at that!”

The groans became much louder. It was no longer necessary to apply one’s ear to a loophole to hear them. Apparently they proceeded from a point within a few feet of the door.

“Poor devil,” said Pike, “he’s in a tight fix, an’ I feel sorry for him.”

The groans increased; and still listening intently at the keyhole, I heard a faint voice gasp out a request for water. No other sound disturbed the stillness, and the man, whoever he was, began to breathe stertorously, while his occasional cries for water pierced us like so many knife-blades.

“Can’t we do anything for him, Pike?” exclaimed Henry. “I can’t stand to sit here and listen to him.”

“It’s hard,” said Pike, “it’s mighty hard, but what kin we do? We kain’t go out thar to him.”

Henry said no more. We listened to the man’s moans until at last Pike himself said:

“Boys, I think it’s a sin to let a feller critter, no matter what he is, lay out and suffer like that. He’s layin’ right afore the door; an’ ef you fellers are willin’ to take the resks with me, we’ll open the door an’ try to drag him in. What d’ you say!”

All of us answered in the affirmative.

“Now, come close up to the door with me every one uv you,” said Pike. Bonneau, you and Sam lift the bar an’ Mr. Sheldon you an’ Joe go out with me an’ git the man. The minute we drag him in shut the door and put the bar back, and be shore you’re darned quick about it, Sam, you and Bonneau. Now!

The bar was thrown up and the door opened. We sprang out and saw the figure of a man lying not five feet from the door. We seized him, dragged him inside and Sam and Bonneau shut the door behind us and dropped the bar in place.

“We wuz too quick fur ‘em that time,” said Pike, “even of they wuz watchin’. Now we’ve got to hev a light here.”

The latter was not such a difficult matter. We had funk and a flint and dry sticks of wood and in a few moments we succeeded in igniting one of the sticks. The man was lying on his side and still groaning. I turned him over on his back and disclosed the features of the man Bliss. His face was distorted by pain and ghastly in hue. Pike shook his head when he looked at him, and I knew his gesture meant that Bliss had received his last call.

The man groaned and in a feeble, quavering voice asked for water.

All our canteens filled with water were in a corner, and while Starboard Sam raised the man to a sitting posture Bonneau put the water to his lips. He drank thirstily, greedily; and when Bonneau at last took the canteen away he looked gratefully at us. He was shot through the chest and bleeding internally, but the water refreshed him so much that he was able to speak.

“You’re treating me white, boys,” he said feebly, “and it isn’t the first time either. I ought to have belonged to this crowd instead of to the other,”

“Why did you join Halftrigger?” asked Henry.

“I don’t know,” replied Bliss. “Because the devil was in me, I suppose. I don’t pretend to be good. I’ve done nothing all my life but loaf and gamble and worse. I’ve had good impulses now and then, but the impulses wouldn’t hold out.”

“Oh, well you can have another trial,” said Henry, with an effort at cheerfulness, “and perhaps your next good impulse will last longer.”

“Maybe,” said Bliss, with a faint smile, “but it won’t be in these parts. I’ve got my ticket. I know very well what a bullet through the chest means. I won’t see another sunrise. But I’ve done you a good turn, boys. I’ve——”

The blood in his throat choked him and he was unable to speak again for a minute or two.

“You’ve done what?” asked Henry anxiously.

“I’ve helped you—maybe saved all your lives,” said Bliss. “It was me who crawled around the corner of the house and saw all of you crouched under the wall. Your leader there motioned me back, and you thought he made me believe he was one of our party, but he didn’t. I knew him, but you had done the white thing by me once before, and I went back and said nothing. I kept Halftrigger on the other side of the house until you got the door open. Even then, when we made our rush, I managed to get in the way of the others and delay them.”

“What a pity,” exclaimed Henry, “that one who wished to be our friend should fall by our own hands!”

“No,” said Bliss; “none of you gave me my dose. It was Halftrigger. He was about to shoot you down with his pistol when I tripped him. He turned and shot me through the chest. He left me to bleed to death there on the ground. And, boys, I don’t know that I’m sorry that it’s all happened, as—as—as”—

He was interrupted again by a fit of coughing and spat up blood.

“Have you any message that you would like to send back to old friends, or relatives in the East?” asked Henry. “Perhaps we will be able to send it through for you.”

Bliss shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “Everybody at home that I care for is ashamed of me; for good reasons, too, I guess. Better let me pass away unnoticed.”

He began to cough again, and visibly was growing weaker fast. Bonneau held the canteen again to his lips, but he was able to drink but little.

“You don’t think hard of me, boys?” he gasped.

We replied “no” altogether.

The damp began to gather on his brow.

“Lay him down, Sam,” said Pike.

The sailor lowered him gently to the floor. For a few minutes he breathed with great difficulty. Then he ceased to gasp, and when we looked more closely at him he was dead.

“He hed his good streak,” said Pike briefly.