We all three gathered at the western window, and for some moments watched the slow approach of the moving breastwork.

V

A SIEGE AND AN AMBUSCADE

We continued to watch long and anxiously the slowly rolling log. Not a glimpse of the motive power could be obtained, but it ground and crushed its way along with ominous certainty, straight in our direction.

Just as I had come to the conclusion that a.s.sistance could not arrive in time, the log stopped. I looked through my gla.s.s and saw the cause.

"Sergeant," I exclaimed, "the log has struck a rock! Open the door and draw a bead on it! Don't let a man leap over it to remove the stone!

Corporal, guard the east window!"

The sergeant stood ready at the open door. All the efforts of the prostrate men behind the log had no effect, except to swing the end farthest from the obstacle slightly ahead.

"There seems to be nothing for them to do but to remove the stone.

Keep a sharp eye on the log, sergeant!"

I had hardly spoken when a sudden discharge of rifles ran irregularly along the length of the log, and under cover of the fire and smoke a stalwart warrior leaped over, raised the stone, and had borne it nearly to the top, when Sergeant Cunningham's rifle spoke sharply.

The stone dropped on our side; the Indian fell forward, with his arms extended towards his friends, who pulled him over the log, and he was screened from our sight. The volley of the Navajos did us no harm.

Corporal Frank replenished the fire on our roof from time to time, and our vigilant watch went on. At last the sergeant, who still stood at the open door, exclaimed, "Lieutenant, the stone is moving! It's dropping into the ground!"

"It's gone, and here comes our fate," I said. "They must have dug under the log with their knives and sunk the stone."

"Yes, sir, and they're safe to reach the cabin door and roast us out."

"If there were two or three more stones in the way, sergeant, the delay they would cause might serve us until help comes."

"I'll run out there with one, Mr. Duncan," said Frank.

"No, laddie," replied the sergeant, "that's a duty for me. I'll drop a couple there in a minute."

"And when you return, sergeant, I will drop two more," said I.

We went quickly to work to carry out our plan. The corporal once more mended the fire, and then we selected from the loose rubbish which had been torn from the top of the chimney several large-sized stones.

Removing his shoes, the sergeant, with my a.s.sistance, raised two big stones to his breast, and stood in the doorway with them clasped firmly in his arms. I took the revolvers in my hands, whispered the word, and he started out at a rapid walk, setting his feet down carefully and without noise. He dropped the stones, one before the other, without attracting attention, and regained the cabin without a shot being fired on either side.

Now it was my turn, and I went beyond the place where he had dropped his last stone.

At that instant an alarm was shouted from the distant wood, and an Indian raised his head above the log and fired. The bullet struck the falling rock, and sent a shower of stinging splinters into my face. I turned and fled.

With the discharge of the Indian's rifle Sergeant Cunningham and Corporal Frank opened a rapid fusillade with the revolvers, which successfully covered my retreat to the cabin; but we knew that our last chance at stone-dropping was past.

Several terribly long hours had crept past since we saw Vic turn the b.u.t.te on her errand to the valleys. Judging by the time it had taken the Navajos to bore a tunnel under their log and undermine the first trigging-stone, we estimated that two more hours must pa.s.s before the four obstructions we had placed in their way could be removed, unless they took some more speedy method.

It was quite nine miles to camp, and the dog could easily reach it in about an hour. If she had arrived, help should by this time be fairly on the way; but if she had been killed by the besiegers before she reached the north end of the b.u.t.te, or had been torn in pieces by the wolves!

Should the log once reach our door, we could not hope to do more than make the price of our lives dear to the enemy.

While the sergeant and I stood at the door and window, speculating in no very hopeful vein over these probabilities, there came a scratch at the eastern door. Frank was at the window on that side, and, startled by the sound, he called to us, "I'm afraid an Indian has sneaked up on us, sir."

Again the scratching was heard, this time accompanied by a familiar whine, which presently swelled into a low bark.

"Oh, Mr. Duncan, it's Vic! It's Vic!" shouted the boy, and, springing to the door, he flung it wide open.

In trotted Vic, and, coming up to me, she dropped a stick at my feet bearing the words: "In the collar, as before."

It took some little time for Corporal Frank to secure the messenger.

She capered about the room, licked our hands and faces, jumped up to the noses of the ponies, and behaved as if she was conscious of having performed a great feat and was overjoyed to have returned safely.

But Vic surrendered to the boy at last, and, submitting her neck for inspection, he found attached to her collar a letter which read as follows:

"CAMP AT LOS VALLES GRANDES.

"_November 20, 1863_.

"Lieutenant,--Message received, and the messenger fed.

Corporal Coffey and eight men leave here at 10.15 P.M.

"JAMES MULLIGAN, _Sergeant_."

"Come here, little doggie," said Sergeant Cunningham. "If we get out of this, the company shall pay for a silver collar and a medal of honor for the finest dog in the army."

"If that detail marches at the regulation gait of three miles an hour," I said, "it should be here by a quarter-past one, and it is now a quarter to twelve."

My anxiety over our prospects was so great I neglected to show proper grat.i.tude to our devoted messenger.

"The men will do better than that, sir, if they keep on the road. The trouble will be in finding this trail. They have never been this way."

"I think the junction of this and the hot-springs trail cannot be far from here. Let's take a shot at that log every three minutes from now on, and the noise may attract our friends."

We began firing at once, aiming at the under side of the log where it touched the earth. I am confident this must have sent some sand and gravel into the eyes of the rollers, if it did no other damage.

Two of the trigging-stones we had dropped were soon undermined and sunk, and the log had stopped at the third, less than a hundred yards away. As it came on, the sergeant climbed to the top of the chimney, and shortly afterwards returned with the report that he had seen the prostrate body of a warrior revealed beyond--good evidence that his first shot had been fatal. If the next two stones should be as rapidly removed as the others, we feared the Indians would reach us, unless the rescuing party prevented, at about half-past twelve.

Marked by our periodical shots at the log, the time hurried all too rapidly on, the Indians slowly and surely approaching the cabin.

The third stone disappeared, and the log moved with a louder grating over the gravelly soil to the fourth and last obstacle, about thirty yards away, and paused.

"I believe, lieutenant," said Cunningham, "I could hit those fellows'

legs now from the chimney."

"All right, sergeant. Close your door and go up and try it," I replied. "A redskin with a broken leg can do us as little injury as one with a broken head."