CHAPTER VII.

HOLDING THE FORT.

Dobbin was carried by the two white men in the party up the mountain slope to the base of the falls. Trim and the blacks marched in the rear in order to resist any attack that might be made upon them by the Narugas.

“It seems to me,” thought Trim, “that Mulvey and his men won’t stop now until they have made an effort at least to slaughter us or drive us out of the country.

“Miller is undoubtedly with them, and has told them what he knows or thinks he knows of me. They will understand, therefore, that I’m not regularly connected with the British police, and that in fighting me they are not necessarily fighting against the English Government.

“For that reason they won’t have so much hesitation about shooting us down.

“When the chief of the Kimberley police was here leading an expedition against them, the Narugas, under their white leader, took great pains not to kill their enemies.

“That was because they did not want to excite the English authorities into sending a powerful army into this country; so at that time they pursued a policy of retreat and hiding.

“It’s almost certain to be different with me. They think that they have defeated us in this little skirmish on the meadow and there’s no denying that they’re right.

“That will lead them to follow up their advantage by making an attack on us while we are supposed to be frightened and disabled.

“Well, let them come on. As long as I can get Dobbin into a place of safety I don’t care much what happens.”

Progress up the mountain was slow because the men had to go carefully in order to save Dobbin from injury.

His wound was a painful one, and in spite of his pluck, he showed that he was suffering intensely.

There were frequent halts for rest, therefore, and Trim began to fear that the Narugas might come up and detect them before they had reached the falls.

This did not happen, however, but just as the party came close to the base of the falls he looked back and caught a glimpse of a part of the meadow.

He then saw that a very large body of blacks was crossing it.

The blacks were going slowly and were scattered over a considerable portion of the meadow.

“That shows,” said Trim to himself, “that they are directed by intelligent white men.

“They think that we are hiding in the forest at the edge of the meadow, they don’t exactly know where; therefore they scatter their men so that if we opened fire on them we should not be able to do as much damage as if the men went forward in a bunch.

“That’s the white man’s style of warfare. They won’t find us down there, and they’ll probably come further up the mountain.

“There must be three or four hundred of them. I don’t believe that many of the blacks have firearms. Even if they have, I reckon that we fellows will be able to give them a hot afternoon’s work.”

Trim said nothing to his companions about the advancing party of Narugas until Dobbin had been taken under the falls and made comfortable upon a dry shelving rock there.

Then Trim explained the situation to the two white men, and told them what he thought was the best plan for meeting the attack.

There were weapons enough in the party to give each man either a revolver or a rifle.

Not more than three men at the very most could stand together at either of the entrances to the cave beneath the falls.

Trim stationed a white man and two blacks at each of these entrances.

“Now then,” he said, “I’m going to attend to Dobbin’s wound. The enemy can’t possibly get at us through the falls. The only way that they can get in here is by coming in the same way that we did.

“Three men at each entrance is as good as a thousand.

“When they come up, if they attack, fire at them until you have emptied every cartridge, then stand back and let three other men take your places.

“Those who have fired will reload at once, ready to jump in again as soon as the second three have fired.

“In this way,” Trim concluded, “we can keep up a battle as long as we have got a cartridge left, and I should be surprised if our ammunition doesn’t hold out as long as theirs does.”

“We’ve got a big advantage in shooting from under cover,” remarked one of the whites.

“Yes,” responded Trim, “but they outnumber us a good many times. If the savages are as desperate as savages sometimes are, they may force an entrance in spite of anything.”

“Let them try it!” muttered the white man, looking carefully at his rifle.

The blacks in the party were silent, but Trim knew that they could be depended on.

They were not experienced fighters, but they were in a situation where it was perfectly certain that they had got to fight for their lives, and he therefore had faith that they would stand to their guns manfully. Having arranged his men for the attack, Trim gave all his own attention to Dobbin.

From his earliest boyhood Trim had had experience in the western parts of America in caring for men who were injured, either by accident or as a result of shooting affairs.

He knew therefore just what to do for Dobbin, and he had been wise enough to include in the baggage taken by the party a quantity of bandages, salves, and other matters that were necessary for the proper dressing of wounds.

It appeared that the ball had entered Dobbin’s shoulder, struck a bone, turned upward, and passed out.

This made a long, irregular wound which was very painful, but which, as Trim soon saw, was not dangerous, provided it were treated right.

It gave him a great relief to discover that the ball had gone out.

“If I had to pick lead out of you, Dobbin,” he said, cheerfully, “there wouldn’t be so much fun in it.”

“Perhaps ee calls it fun to lie here with a broken shoulder, lad?” returned Dobbin.

“Oh, no. I know it isn’t fun, but you’re not going to die, and more than that, your shoulder isn’t broken.”

“Not broken, hey? Then why can’t I move my right arm, and what makes that horrible ache along the bone there?”

“The bullet has plowed all along the bone, and of course that hurts, but I’m sure nothing is broken, and if you’ll be patient, I’ll have you fixed up in a few minutes so that you’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’ve got all the patience there is, lad. I only wish that I could be up and take a hand in the fight!”

“There wouldn’t be room for you,” responded Trim.

Meantime he was busy cutting away Dobbin’s clothing, and applying bandages and cleansing the wound.

“Ye work like a regular saw-bones, lad,” muttered Dobbin, after a time.

“I’ve done this sort of thing before,” he responded.

With all his skill and speed it took Trim a good many minutes to get the shoulder so bandaged that Dobbin could be left alone.

The task was not quite completed when one of the blacks came to him and said:

“The Narugas are coming up the mountain, and we have just seen them through the trees a little way below.”

“I wonder if they’ll think that we’re in here?” Trim reflected.

Aloud he said:

“Tell the men at each entrance not to fire until attacked. Let the enemy go by if they will.”

It proved that the attacking party had not suspected the hiding-place of Trim and his companions.

They had never noticed the entrance to the big cavern under the falls. As they went further up the mountainside they were more and more puzzled to think what had become of their foes.

The white man who guarded the entrance through which the donkeys had been driven saw a dozen or more blacks pass within a hundred feet of him and examine the ground.

It was evident that they saw the tracks of the donkeys. It was just as clear that they were puzzled because the tracks all pointed in one direction.

They stopped a moment and consulted, and then began to follow the tracks along, gradually approaching the falls.

Trim, still busy with Dobbin’s needs, did not know what was happening until he heard the report of firearms at one of the entrances.

The white man in charge there had waited until the savages were less than fifty feet away. It seemed to him that the very next instant they would discover the hiding-place and make an attack.

He believed it to be right and wise to get in the first blow; accordingly, he told the blacks who were keeping watch with him to fire.

One of the blacks had a shotgun, the other a revolver, the white had a fine rifle.

The three weapons went off together, and evidently each shot took effect, for three of the attacking party staggered back and fell to the ground.

The others stood stock still in amazement for just a second and then began to dash down the slope.

“Ye’re needed where the fight is, lad,” said Dobbin. “Go and help the fellows an’ don’t mind me.”

“Well,” returned Trim, “you can rest for a few minutes anyway. I’ll go and see what’s up and come back.”

He hurried to the entrance to the cave and found the three guards exulting over their easy victory. “I’ll bet,” exclaimed the white, “that they were surprised when they saw shots coming from the waterfall. I don’t believe they saw us at all, and probably they can’t tell exactly where we are.

“I shouldn’t wonder if they think that the waterfall is enchanted.”

“Perhaps they do!” responded Trim; “but the white leaders will know better. The fight is only just begun.”

Even at that moment they heard a voice somewhere down among the trees shouting angrily.

The words could not be understood, for they were spoken in the Naruga language, but Trim was certain that the voice was that of a white man.

It proved that he was not mistaken when a moment later a large number of savages were seen approaching up the hill toward the falls and among them he distinguished one of the whites whom he had seen on the meadow.

It looked as if the blacks were alarmed and were advancing unwillingly.

The white kept up his shouting, from which it was easy to guess that he was determined that Trim and all of his companions should be slaughtered. “Give me room there,” he said, quietly, to one of the guards.

The guard stepped back and Trim took his place at the mouth of the cave.

The mist rising from the waterfall floated before him, and it was often so dense that he could not see through it.

He waited until the light breeze that was blowing cleared away the cloud of spray for a moment, and then drew upon the white leader of the Narugas.

At that moment the leader was standing perhaps two hundred feet away looking in the direction of the falls. He was trying to locate the enemy.

“This is where we are, boss!” shouted Trim, as he pulled the trigger.

The leader apparently caught sight of Trim just as the revolver spoke, for he leaped aside and made for a tree.

He was too late. The pistol ball sped faster than he could, and it struck him as Trim had intended, in the right arm.

“He won’t shoot again to-day,” thought Trim, “unless he’s left-handed.”

The shot caused a panic among the savages who had been driven on to the attack by their leader. Trim could see them turning about and getting down hill as fast as they could on their hands and knees. Not one of them ventured to rise.

Trim’s companions wanted to fire after them, but the boy forbade them.

“There’s no sense in killing them unnecessarily,” he said; “let them scoot if they want to. A scare is just as good for them as a beating.”

At that moment there was a sound of firing at the other entrance to the cave.

Leaving his guards with orders to fight off any further attack that might be made, Trim hurried around under the falls, passing Dobbin and the donkeys, until he came to the other entrance.

That was even narrower than the first, and much more difficult of use.

The water came down so close to the side of the ledge there that the guards stationed at that point were wet to the skin by the splashing of drops and spray.

Much the same thing had happened there as at the first entrance. A party of savages had come up on that side of the stream and the guards had opened fire on them. The result was that the blacks retreated. Trim heard there also the tones of a voice shouting angry commands. He tried in vain to get a glimpse of the man, and presently became aware from the direction from which the voice came that the speaker was making his way across the stream to the other side of the falls.

As there were no savages in sight, Trim returned to the first entrance and again took the place of one of the guards there.

He could see that the man whom he had shot had struggled to his feet and was now leaning against a tree in such a way that the greater part of his body was protected.

Presently he recognized the voice that he had heard issuing commands upon the other side of the falls, and then he saw a white man striding toward the wounded man with a rifle in his hands.

“What’s the matter now?” cried the new-comer, in plain English. “You cowardly sneak! why didn’t you lead your men up to the falls as I told you to?”

“They went back on me,” was the reply, “and I won’t be called a sneak, either!”

It was difficult to see exactly what happened because the men were so far down among the trees, but there was the sound of two shots fired almost together. After that all was still.

“I wonder,” thought Trim, “if these two have had a long standing quarrel and have now shot each other? I shall have to find out about it.”