So they watched the two crews advance, till a sudden shout caused the drivers to draw rein. Then eight figures leaped from the sleighs and, dividing at once, came racing forward.

Joe and his friends watched them quietly and with determination.

Ignorant of the cause of the attack, they were naturally incensed, while such a thing as surrender had not occurred to them. But a looker-on must have had serious doubts as to their success; indeed, it may be said that their danger was great and pressing. As for the scheme which the ruffian Hurley had originated, his chances of ridding himself of a rival may truthfully be described as rosy. With Joe Bradley slain in this outlandish situation, there seemed little difficulty in carrying out the remainder of a disgraceful and cowardly conspiracy. Hurley would present himself in England. He would demand those doc.u.ments and proof of origin. A fine fortune and position seemed to be awaiting him.

CHAPTER XVIII

On the Defensive

A strange silence had fallen upon attackers and attacked, once the former had leaped from their sleighs and had begun to race across the snow-covered surface of the lake. Not a sound broke from them, though now and then there was a whimper from one of the dogs in the teams attached to the sleighs; and neither Hank nor Joe or Beaver Jack so much as uttered a syllable. Perhaps if they had leaped to the summit of the wall they had built, and had shouted and thrown threats at the enemy, it would have had the effect of spurring the latter on; for opposition in any shape or form is apt to stimulate men to courage and exertion, but silence depresses. The attackers seemed to lose heart rapidly; then, as one stopped doubtfully, his comrades slowly copied his example. Thereupon a burly figure turned upon them angrily.

"Forward!" he shouted almost incoherently. "Why stop here? The fools can kill you now as easily as they could if you were closer. Forward!"

"Give 'em a sight of the dummies we've rigged up," whispered Hank at once. "Jest show the tops o' their heads over the wall; I'll lie here and give 'em a shot ef they want to come closer."

He spread himself face downward on the snow and pushed his rifle through one of the apertures which Joe had left. Meanwhile our hero and the Redskin each took one of the dummies which the cunning little trapper had manufactured during his hours of watching, and slowly raised that part which was supposed to be the head over the summit of the wall. Crouching as low as possible themselves, they moved the dummies slowly to and fro; for they were some three yards from one another. At once there came a loud shout from the open, and, staring out through the aperture, Hank saw the same burly figure which he had observed before dashing to and fro haranguing his following; but move them he could not.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A DEFENCE AGAINST ODDS]

"What? You won't come on?" the three defenders heard him bellow.

"Never did I meet such cowards! Look at the men we've come for. Fire!"

They could do that even if they would not advance, and in a twinkling the seven half-breeds had thrown themselves into all sorts of att.i.tudes, and were busy with their weapons. There came an irregular volley, while the narrow, elongated bullet of the modern weapon, the larger, squat missile of the rifle somewhat out of date, and even the huge round leaden ball discharged by a smoothbore came hurtling about the fort. Joe heard again the zip-zip of rapidly-travelling bodies cutting their way through a maze of branches, he felt the hail of debris as it fell, while within a foot or more of his head he listened to the dull thud of a bullet striking the hard-frozen wall, and heard the queer ripping sound it made as it forced a way through and sped on across the fort to the far wall. Then there was a pause, during which there was deathly silence.

"I ain't in no hurry to fire," said Hank, in low tones, grinning up at his companions, "and I'll tell you for why. Shouts and firing and sichlike would make them critters come on; silence gives 'em the hump.

In any case, they ain't bustin' with pluck, and never did I see men show less dash when attackin'. Say, Joe, ain't I heard that voice before? Seems as ef I ought to know it."

Before he could receive an answer, the burly man was again addressing his men, strutting up and down before them; for though his orders had been that they should divide and approach the island from every point of the compa.s.s, the half-breeds lacking courage had held together, as if the companionship of their fellows helped to hearten them.

"Forward!" Joe heard the command given. "You can see where they are now. They've rigged up a wall, and any one of us can hop over it in a twinkling. Now, all together!"

But his orders went unheeded. Instead, a second volley spluttered down the irregular line, while once again a variety of shots swept against the fort. Joe could see Beaver Jack's penetrating eyes twinkling. He even fancied there was a smile on those lips which were always so impa.s.sive. In any case, the Redskin pointed overhead to the dummy he held and nodded.

"Fine shooting," he murmured. "Send bullet right through the head; glad Beaver Jack not up there."

Then Hank repeated his question.

"Queer, ain't it, Joe? I'd swear I'd met that chap before. But----"

"I believe--" began our hero doubtfully, "but it can't be."

"Can't be? There's nothing that can't be 'way out here after what's happened. I tell you, man and boy I've tracked the backwoods, and never once have I been set on like this. I've heard o' ructions, in course, but always near the forts and stations, or in the settlements.

But right out in the wilds like this--never! I'll eat my boots ef these here critters ain't been set on us. Seems to me that ef we could get a hold on that big chap as seems to lead 'em, and could make him talk, there's a heap he could tell us. Who is he, anyway?"

"Hurley!" exclaimed Joe.

"Eh? What? Hurley? That durned murderer! Shucks, lad, that's too tall for anything!"

"I'm dead sure. Hurley's tall; Hurley's a big man; Hurley's voice is the same as that."

"But--" interrupted Hank hoa.r.s.ely, keeping his eyes all the while on the enemy, "but, grant you the voice is the same--now that you've said it, I 'low that that aer Hurley's voice--he'd be mad to follow like this. There's a string always round his neck, and he ain't likely to come close to the men who know it. It ain't reasonable. Why, we could hang the scoundrel any day we set hands on him!"

"True enough," agreed Joe, "but--wait, they're moving. That rascal is getting them to their feet; we'd better be ready for trouble."

Joe had managed to squat down close to one of the openings, and as he conversed with Hank had wriggled himself into a position which enabled him to look out. Everything outside on the moonlit snow was visible.

Indeed, the white background showed up every detail, though, as it happened that the enemy had their backs to the moon, their features were indistinguishable. But features are of no account when bullets are flying, or when an attack is about to be launched. The enemy had gathered into a bunch, in spite of the shouts of their leader, and now, fortified by even closer companionship, and goaded by the burly brute who stood at their head, they poured in another volley, then, trailing their weapons, dashed toward the fort. Joe jerked his dummy on to the top of the wall and left it there; then his hand sought for his rifle, and in a trice he had the muzzle grinning at the enemy. He jerked back the bolt--for he always kept the weapon at safety--took a rapid aim at one of the charging figures, and pulled the trigger. To his amazement, the man at whom he aimed doubled up into a neat round ball and, tumbling on the snow, rolled rapidly forward. But it was not for long.

He straightened himself suddenly, stood erect, and then threw his arms overhead. A penetrating shriek came from him, and a moment later he bounded into the air and fell face downward. Hank's rifle spat forth a bullet in the interval and sent a second man rocking from side to side.

Long before Beaver Jack could get to one of the apertures, or Hank push in a fresh cartridge, the enemy were in wild retreat, separating widely and racing away as fast as their snowshoes would take them. As for Joe, numbed fingers do not readily operate the bolt of even a modern weapon, while, for the same reason, cartridges are hard to grip; so that he had not even reloaded. But numbed fingers were not the only reason for such delay; he was watching the man at whom he had fired. A feeling of elation possessed him for one brief second as the rascal doubled up and rolled forward, and then one of terror, of keen remorse.

"I--I killed him," he cried, a waver in his voice.

Hank looked up quickly, his lips moving.

"Eh?" he asked shortly.

"I killed him," declared Joe again, almost plaintively.

"Ah, so you did, young 'un, and a mighty fine shot it war. But you ain't going to tell me that you're sorry? In course in a way one is sorry when one wipes a critter out, but----"

"It's awful!" groaned Joe, huge depression upon him.

Hank scrambled to his feet, dragged our hero to his, and took him away from the wall where the moon's rays fell brightly upon both of them.

"See here," he cried angrily, though those who knew the little man best would have declared that his anger was artificial, "see here, young feller; am I less valuable to you than that 'ere cuss? Eh? You ain't got an answer. You don't seem to reckon that ef you wasn't to shoot, the critter would come right in and kill me or you. Ef it's like that, and you value him higher, why, I'm for moving."

Very slowly he began to clamber on to the top of the wall. He dropped his legs over to the far side, and seemed to be in the act of departing from the fort. Then Joe came to his senses; he caught the little trapper by the fringed sleeve and dragged him back. Indeed, using his strength and height, he gripped the little man and lifted him bodily.

He was smiling when Hank at length broke free.

"It's over," he said; "I'm sorry."

"No harm done, lad," came the hearty answer. "No one was ever the wuss for havin' a soft heart. But this here aer war, war to the knife, and, what's more, that aer Hurley. Would a skunk same as him leave us alive ef the call was with him? Huh!"

That was the most expressive sound he could make. It betokened the utmost scorn; it showed Hank when most emphatic.

"It aer Hurley, fer sure," he declared. "But why? Aer he mad?"

"Not mad, but hoping to make something out of us or out of me," said Joe. "At least that is the idea I have, though it seems to be stupid, and there is no apparent reason for my saying so. But what does it matter what the cause of the attack may be? It's Hurley."

"Dead sartin--the skunk!" growled Hank.

"And he means business."

"He aer goin' to wipe the hull lot of us out ef he's able. But he aer come up agin a crowd that's got its dander up, so I tells him. He aer yet to larn what backwoods chaps and others kin do. Next time I makes a particular point o' puttin' my sights on him, and ef I get the chance, I'll roll him over. Let's see what they're doing."

For the next ten minutes the trio sat on the summit of the wall in the full glare of the moonlight, for there was now no object in concealment, and watched the enemy. They had retired as far as their sleighs, and it looked for a little while as if they were about to mount and drive away. But the burly figure of the rascal who led them--now admittedly Hurley, the murderer, the escaped criminal--tramped up and down near them, and though only a faint whisper of his voice could be heard every now and again, when the wind bore it in the direction of the island, it was perfectly evident that he was again using all his persuasive eloquence to induce his followers to repeat the attack. They saw him swing round more than once and point towards the fort. They watched as the enemy actually advanced again; but a shot from Hank surging between them seemed to put their courage to flight, for they went again to the sledges. Then there was a different scene.

"Threatening them," remarked Joe. "Hurley is shaking his fist at us, and pointing his gun at his own people. I begin to believe that we shall win out all right. Say, Hank, how many men can go on a sleigh as a rule?"