23 A Mysterious Danger

Bonneau had prepared a plentiful supper for us, and we ate with the appetite which only hard toil gives. Our supply of provisions was so large, thanks to our recent hunting expeditions that we saw no reason to spare the steaks. As we ate Pike cast occasional glances through the loopholes. He announced, by and by, that a drizzling rain, was falling, and the indications pointed to a dark night.

“I’m sorry uv it, too,” said Pike, “fur ef Halftrigger means to attack us the darkness will help him.”

“Do you anticipate any demonstration from our enemies?” asked Mr. Sheldon.

“Kain’t say,” replied Pike, making use of his favorite expression; “but I rather think they will try suthin’. I kain’t figure out jest how they’ll come at us, an’ that’s what bothers me. I guess, however, we’d better keep on with the tunnel to-night, ez soon ez everybody is rested good, fur ’twon’t hurt to hev it ready jest ez soon ez possible.”

Pike looked uneasy, and I asked him if he really thought the outlaws would be able to storm and carry our fortifications.

“Things ’pear to be in our favor,” he replied: “but thet Halftrigger, though an infernal villian, is a mighty shifty feller, an’ I don’t think he’s been so quiet all fur nothin’. Anyway, we’ve got to keep a mighty sharp watch to-night.”

As soon as we had taken our rest and had given our suppers a chance to be digested a little work was resumed in the pit. I was excepted, however, from the list of laborers at Pike’s request.

“I want you to help me watch through these loopholes, Joe,” said Pike. “I guess you’ve got about the keenest eyes in the party, next to mine, and we need sent’nels to-night.”

But it came on so dark that we could not see twenty feet from the hut. Pike growled more than once and by the sputtering light of the torch that we had ignited I could see his face express great dissatisfaction.

“I don’t like this a bit—not a darned bit,” he said. “It gives them fellers too great an advantage fur thar tricks and schemes. What tools did we leave down thar at the mine when we made the break fur the cabin!”

“Four picks, three shovels and two axes,” I replied.

“I’m sorry fur that,” said Pike. “I wish we’d thought to bring them things away with us.”

I wondered what he had in mind, but, as he seemed inclined to be taciturn, I asked him no questions.

The rain was still falling in a fine drizzle, and a wind which sprang up whipped it about. Occasionally a dab of spray was driven through the loophole and lashed me in the face. Pike was glum and silent. The only noise in the cabin came from the tunnel where one man cast up the loose earth that the diggers threw back. Their faces were smeared with dirt and they looked in the imperfect light like so many ghouls toiling in a graveyard.

“What time do you think it might be?” asked Mr. Sheldon, poking up his head from the pit.

“’Bout ten, I should say,” replied Pike. “Thar’ ain’t no moon nor stars to-night to go by, but I guess I ain’t fur wrong.”

“Well, we are making good progress,” said Mr. Sheldon. “If we keep on this way, we will reach water ahead of time.”

“Any signs of rock in the way?” I asked.

“None,” he replied, “and, after thinking it over, I must admit that it is rather strange, for we would have right to expect rock at less depth than we have gone on a hillside like this. Probably the washings of earth from the hilltop have been accumulating at this spot for centuries. But, however it may have happened, it’s a piece of good luck, which will offset some piece of bad luck.”

“I hope that offset uv bad luck won’t come soon,” said Pike.

He spoke in a gruesome tone, which was very unusual with him, for Pike was one of the most courageous and hopeful of men. Mr. Sheldon noticed it as quickly as I did.

“You speak like a prophet of evil,” he said. “Are you fearing some disaster?”

“I’m feelin’ ez ef somethin’ wuz goin’ wrong,” said Pike. “I know it’s tarnation foolish in me to talk like a skeary young gal, but I kain’t shake off thet feelin’.”

“Just watch our engineering operations, then,” said Mr. Sheldon, cheerfully, “and you’ll be so much struck with our skill and progress that you will forget your premonitions.”

“It’ll pass off directly,” replied Pike. “I guess it’s like a chill; stays with you fur a while an’ then off it goes. Mebbe that’s what’s the matter with me. Guess I’ve got some malarry in my system an’ it’s gone to my head.”

The big hunter struck his head as if to indicate his dissatisfaction with himself for a feeling that he considered unmanly.

“It’s a tarnation bad night,” he said, peering out at a loophole, “the wind’s lashin’ the rain aroun’ and it’s turned cold enough to give a feller the shivers. What in thunder wuz that?”

There was a dull whirring and rushing through the air, followed by a heavy thump, and a tearing noise among the bushes down the hill side, below the cabin. Pike had his eye glued to a loophole.

“Do you see anythin’?” he cried, his voice betraying an excitement that was uncommon for him.

“Nothing but the darkness,” I replied, without removing my eye from my own loophole.

“Neither kin I,” said Pike. “Thunder, but thar it is agin!—”

Whir-r-rr, swish-h-h-h went something through the air. Smash it came against the earth, and then there was a tearing noise in the bushes below the cabin like that we had heard before.

I was puzzled and alarmed.

“Perhaps it’s your premonitions coming true,” I said to Pike.

“Mebbe it is,” growled the hunter, “but it beats me whut makes that noise. I’ve tramped plain and mountain many a year and seen some strange things, but this caps ’em.”

“Shall I tell them of it?” I asked, nodding my head towards the pit where the others were at work so far below the surface that the sounds could not reach their ears.

“No,” replied Pike. “Let ’em work away. They kain’t tell any more about it than we kin, an’ ef we need ’em we kin call ’em quick enough.”

He went around to the various loopholes and tried to pierce the darkness with his keen eyes. But he could not see any more than I could, and that was nothing.

“Confound such a pitchy night, anyway,” he growled. “It comes jest at the wrong time. Thar’s devilment afoot an’ no way to tell what it is. What do you think it wuz, Joe, that made them ar noises that we hev heard twice?”

I shook my head and Pike turned again discontentedly to a loophole.

“I’ve more’n half a mind,” he said, “to take my gun, go outside and do some scoutin’.”

“Don’t do that,” I urged, “for we’ll be sure to need you here. Whatever may be the danger that menaces us, we’ve got to hold this fort, it seems to me.”

Pike appeared to be impressed by my words.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. “We’d better stay here an’ face it together, whatever it is. Listen; thar it goes it agin!”

We heard the whir and the swish and then as we listened for the thump down the hill side there was a rending and crashing over our heads, a heavy mass of something smashed through the roof of our cabin as if it had been made of paper, dashed down upon a heap of earth beside the entrance to the pit, extinguished the torch that we had stuck there, and then rolled with a heavy thudding sound into the pit.

The loose earth had been dashed into our eyes by the impact, and gusts of cold rain whipped through the hole in the roof and into our faces. A bit of earth had also been driven into my mouth, and I strangled and coughed and spluttered.

“Are you hurt, Joe?” came Pike’s eager words. “Hev you been hit? Whar in thunder is thet tarnation torch? I thought somethin’ wuz going to happen an’ it’s happened, but it beats me yet what it is.”

I sought to answer, but I still coughed and spluttured, because of the mud stuck in my throat and I was unable to make articulate reply. Pike scrambled around in the darkness after the extinguished torch, and there came a hubbub from the pit. Some one struck against a hard object and fell, uttering a cry of pain.

“Confound it!” cried a voice that was Mr. Sheldon’s. “I’d like to know in the name of all the saints what I’ve hit against. I believe I’ve broken my leg, too. Say, you fellows, what’s happened? Why is the light out and the pit mouth half blocked up?”

Then the voices of Henry, Bonneau and Sam were heard chiming in, and just then I got the dirt from my throat and recovered the use of my vocal organs.

“Something strange has happened,” I replied, “but we don’t know yet what it is. Wait till we get a light.”

But Pike had found the torch, and as I spoke he ignited it with his punk and steel. It burned in a feeble, sickly way, but it cast enough light to show the interior of the cabin and our pallid faces.

The mound of earth beside the mouth of the pit had been dashed about as if it had been smitten by a thunderbolt. In the roof was a hole big enough to admit the bodies of two men at once, and the rain sweeping through it had already turned a part of the loose earth on the floor into mud. All the boys had crawled out of the pit and stood rubbing their ankles and staring at each other.

“I guess we’ll see now what in thunder thet wuz thet come through the roof like a tornado,” said Pike.

He held the torch over the mouth of the pit, and there, lying on the bottom we saw a huge round stone or boulder that would have weighed at least fifty or sixty pounds.

“Wa’al, I’m kerflummixed!” exclaimed Pike.

“War in thunder did thet come from, and how in thunder did it git here?”

“Some device of Halftrigger’s is responsible for it, you may be sure,” said Henry.

“That’s what I’d guess,” replied Pike, “but how is it done!”

None could answer. But we had indubitable proof that our enemies had prepared for us some new and formidable danger. We lifted the stone out of the pit and looked at it.

“Ef thet had hit any uv our heads it would hev smashed it ez ef it had been an eggshell,” said Pike. “It wuz jest the same ez a cannon ball.”

“Our fort is not strong enough to resist artillery,” said Henry.

“Not ef many more such chunks uv rocks ez this hit it,” said Pike. “It wuz luck thet none uv our heads wuz in the way thet time.”

I was about to make some answer, but we heard the whirring of a fourth missile in the air. We listened in dread, expecting the hut to be struck again, but the missile swished past, and we heard it rolling through the bushes down the hill.

“Now, boys,” said Pike, “we’ve got to put our heads together an’ do sumthin’; we’re in a tight fix, fur when one uv them big rocks comes true to its aim we ain’t got no way to fend it off.”

“In case our house is smashed down over our heads,” said Henry, “why not take to our tunnel? It’s a subterranean house, and we could hold it against all comers, at least until we had time to think of something else.”

“Burrow like a prairie dog,” said Pike. “’Taint a bad idee, but I guess we’d better fur the present stop diggin’ towards the water, fur it wouldn’t be comfor’ble ef we wuz threatened at one end in the tunnel an’ the water should come in at the other. I like water, but I don’t like too much of it at once.”

There was wisdom in Henry’s suggestion, and we placed our spare ammunition and gold in the tunnel. While we were doing this we heard the whizzing of another stone, but fortunately the cabin was not touched. Meantime the interior of the place began to present a bedraggled and sorry appearance. The wind was still strong, and the rain was driven through the hole in the roof with such force that it reached every corner of our little house. The floor was carpeted with sticky mud, and the water was soaking through our clothing, chilling us to the bone. The damp more than the danger depressed our spirits, and Pike, with the remark, “It won’t do to let this go on no longer,” cast his eyes up at the roof and began to make calculations.

“We’ve got to stop thet hole,” he said, “or we won’t be in no condition fur fightin’ when the time fur fightin’ comes.”

It was now that Starboard Sam’s experience as a sailor became of value. He cocked his head on one side, shut one eye and surveyed the roof critically with the other.

“We’ve got deer hides,” he said, “an’ some canvas an’ some balls o’ string, an’ I wish I may go to Davy Jone’s locker afore mornin’ comes ef I kaint fix thet hole in a jiffy and make this place weather tight agin.”

There seemed to be a cessation in the bombardment, and Sam began his work. He took a deer hide and spread over it a piece of thick canvas, fastening the two together with a piece of string run through holes around the edges.

“I want to hev a double thickness,” he said, “so’s to be shore no water kin get through. Now some of you fellers lend me a hand an’ hist me up.”

Three of us seized him and lifted him up until his head was against the roof near the edge of the hole.

“Stiddy, now, stiddy,” he said, “an’ I’ll have the neatest tarpaulin over this hole you ever saw.”

“Be keerful you don’t poke your head out,” said Pike, “or some uv them sneakin’ scamps may be near enough to see it, an’ put a bullet through it.”

“Trust me,” replied Sam, “I ain’t no land lubber. I think too much o’ my life fur that, an’ I ain’t in no hurry to desart such good company ez I’m now in.”

He thrust the mat he had made through the hole and spread it over it. The cords with which he had bound the skin and the cloth together, had long swinging ends, and he ran these through the timber joists and quickly drew the matting so tight and so fast that not a drop of water came in. Then he knotted the string around the joists and surveyed his work in triumph.

“Did you ever see a neater job?” he cried. “Everybody ought to be sailors and then they’d know things. Gosh, is this a shipwreck?”

The last exclamation was drawn from him by a thundering crash against the walls of our cabin, which made the little building shake like a man with the palsy, and startled us so much that we dropped Sam and he rolled like a big india-rubber ball into the pit.

We waited in the momentary dread of seeing the cabin tumble down on our heads. It rocked to and fro as if in a storm, but it was a stout structure, and after its rocking had subsided into a quivering it straightened itself up and stood as steady and as strong as ever. We raised a hearty cheer when we saw that the danger had passed for a time, and Sam who was puffing and blowing and pulling himself out of the pit ejaculated:

“Hooray, she’s a good craft, an’ stood up like the old Constitution in a blow. But what did ye drop me fur, boys?”

“Ze Yankee sailor should be glad to have no bones broke,” said Bonneau. “Monsieur Sam one great man to keeck.”

“Lookout, I don’t kick you, Frenchy,” replied Sam.

“Both uv you save your kicks fur them that need ’em,” interrupted Pike, who knew, however, that the men were not quarrelling and were the best friends in the world. “Its lucky fur all uv us that we built our cabin stout and an’ strong, I guess that stun hit at the corner thar whar the timbers jine, or somethin’ would hev’ give way.”

“What guarantee have we,” asked Mr. Sheldon, “that the next missile will not crash through the walls?”

“None,” replied Pike.

“Can we sit here and wait for our fort to be smashed in pieces over our heads and our heads to be smashed at the same time perhaps?” continued Mr. Sheldon.

“Not by a tarnation sight,” replied Pike.

“Then what are we to do?” asked Mr. Sheldon. “I confess that I am at the end of my wits and have nothing to suggest.”

“We’ve got to be a-doin’,” said Pike. “Thar is no doubt about that, an’ I’ve got a scheme which may help us. How’s the weather now, Sam?”

“Not quite so nasty ez it hez been,” replied Sam, who was peering through a loophole, “the wind hez died down a bit, an’ thar ain’t more’n a handful o’ rain.”

“Ez dark ez ever?” asked Pike.

“Black ez my hat,” returned Starboard Sam. “Couldn’t see any kind o’ craft twenty feet away less it had signal lights burnin’. Twas jest sech a night ez this,we took the pirate schooner, The Hawk, off the coast o’ Hayti in ’21, when I wuz in the old Enterprise. We cum near smashin’ right into her afore either knowed the other wuz nigh. She tried to escape under the cover o’ the dark, but we hed the lights a-burnin’ an’ the rockets a-flyin’, an’ some eighteen pound shot twixt wind an’ water soon settled the bizness fur that bloody craft. She went down head foremost in a hundred fathom o’ the saltiest, kind o’ sea, and we wuzn’t able to save more’n ’leven o’ her crew fur the gallows. But on the whole, considerin’ the state o’ the weather, we thought it about ez neat a job ez we ever turned out, an’ we wuzn’t no slouches at that sort o’ business, either,”

“What is the scheme that you have determined upon?” asked Mr. Sheldon of Pike.

“I’m goin’ to find out whar them stuns come from,” replied Pike, “an’ see ef I kaint put a stop to thar comin’.”

“Do you mean to leave the hut?” asked Mr. Sheldon.

“Yes.” replied Pike; “it’s got to be done. It’s resky, but we’re boun’ to take resks now. I’m goin’ out, an’ I’m goin’ to take Joe with me. He’s about the best scout among you. Mr. Sheldon, you’re to take command here while I’m gone, an’ I want you to keep a mighty good watch through them loopholes, an’ ef any more stuns come flyin’ agin the house an’ it gets too hot fur you, take to the tunnel, but put it off to the very last. When you hear a howl like a wolf’s outside open the door like lightnin’ fur it’ll be me an’ Joe wantin’ to come in. You may hear shots, but don’t open the door until you hear the wolf howl or some other sign that you know will be from us. Keep your guns an’ pistols handy, an’ be ready fur anythin’ that may come.”

Pike spoke with great seriousness, and we knew the garrison too well to fear that they would neglect any of his warnings. I was glad that I was selected to go with Pike, for however dangerous the undertaking might be it would be a relief from the severe strain to which we were exposed in the cabin.

“See that you keep your gun an’ your pistol an’ your ammunition dry,” said Pike to me, “fur when you want your weepins you’ll want ’em tarnation bad.”

We made another long and careful examination through the loopholes, but were unable to see anything unusual. Then Pike said:

“Come along, Joe.”

Bonneau lifted the bar, the door swung open, then quickly closed behind us and we found ourselves outside in the darkness and the rain.

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