Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell (чтение книг .txt) 📗

knew him. Good guide same as me. Speak English both. Me Shuhshuhgah.

Mean Blue Heron. Son of Chief two mile there.” He pointed in the

direction taken by the warriors. “Them bad men may return. We hid a

time. This way. Quick.”

He took a step forward, but fell because of the wound in his right

leg. Syn saw that the muscle of the calf had been severed, so telling

him to put his arms around their shoulders, they dragged him to the

cover of the woods. At the foot of the hillock over which they had

crawled to the attack, Shuhshuhgah pointed to a curtain of thick,

overhanging creeper, behind which was a cunningly hidden cave. Into

this they crept, while Syn, tearing a strip from his shirt arm,

bound up the Indian’s leg.

As it happened, they had only just got to cover in time, for the

noise of the pistols had caused a party of the warrior tribe to return

to see what was amiss. When the fugitives peeped through the creeper

they saw them, three men standing over the body of their Chieftain. They

removed the tomahawk and

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turned him over onto his back. Then they examined the bodies of the five

dead cadets, and seemed bewildered at not finding the body of

Shuhshuhgah. Then, cut from their Chieftain, they trotted off with wild

cries into the wood, following the direction of their fellows.

After waiting for some little time for the scouts to get clear,

during which time Syn and Mipps recharged and re-primed their pistols,

Shuhshuhgah proposed that they should set out for his father’s village,

which no doubt the war-trail party was no attacking.

“But you should not walk, even with our help,” said Syn. “Besides, we

shall find ourselves at a disadvantage coming up behind them with our

way to your village cut off.”

“Under them we shall walk,” explained the Indian. “There is a secret

way into my father’s camp.”

They selected two wigwam poles that had escaped the burning, and with

the long sheath-knife belonging to Mipps, had soon cut and bound some

strong tendrils of the climbing creeper that abounded in the woods.

Placing the Indian upon it, this was easy to carry stretcher -wise.

They followed the Indian trail through the woods, which made it

easier and quicker traveling. When they had gone about a mile, they once

more heard the warcries of the warriors. These cries growing louder and

louder as they advanced, Shuhshuhgah at last pointed to a thick clump of

bushes that fringed the trail.

“Put me down,” he whispered. “We crawl through them. Then pick up

secret trail.”

They set down the stretcher, and upon his stomach the Indian began to

crawl through, followed by Syn and Mipps, dragging the stretcher after

them. After some twenty -five yards of this difficult passage, they came

out upon another trail, when the Indian was once more put upon the

stretcher and carried on. Presently they heard the lowing of cattle

mingled with the war -cries, and at the same time the trail, which had

been rising steadily, reached a summit heavily overshadowed by trees.

Up this the Indian crawled from the stretcher, and, after peering over

cautiously, motioned the others to leave the litter below and join him.

From this vantage they looked down upon a grassy plateau where some two

hundred head of cattle were grazing, guarded by three our four mounted

Indians, who tro tted their shaggy ponies backwards and forwards along

the slope to prevent the cattle roaming into the range of arrow fire

from the stockade village. From the height where they crouched, the

three fugitives could see the main body of the attacking force awaiting

the order to advance against the palisades in the shelter of a dried -up

river-bed. Shuhshuhgah whispered that his father would await attack, and

then spare some half of his braves to run through the tunneled secret

path which came out into a cave at the base of the very hillock upon

which they now waited. The enemy were dancing safely in the river-bed,

working themselves up into the required frenzy for attack.

It was then that Mipps made what seemed to Syn an entirely irrelevant

remark, but which was destined not only to spell disaster to the

attackers, but to coin a name which was to become fearful enough to

terrorize the trade routes of the high seas.

Mipps pointed to Shuhshuhgah’s blood-stained bandage and whispered,

“Ere, look at that big beast. Enjoying a good meal off your blood,

Shushy mate.”

The Indian looked at his leg, and saw what, to the others, was a

large gag-or horsefly. He took the fearful insect very carefully

between his finger and thumb, and with a smile of triumph said, “It is

the Clegg. Terrible fellow too. You shall see what he can do. Look.”

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He flung it into the air over the lip of the hillock in the direction

of the cattle. They saw it flying and heard its waspish note. The cattle

sensed its coming. Panic seized them. This fly was their worst enemy,

for it was too small to trample or toss, and yet, large enough to suck

their blood and cause the most maddening irritation. A medieval knight

in full armour might have felt the same toward a flea. Bellowing in

panic, they stampeded for the river-bed in full gallop, sliding down the

bank in terror right amongst the dancing Indians, who fell and scattered

before the giant impact. By now the invisible Clegg fly kept the cattle

on the run, and, like a sheep-dog, kept them well herded, so that as

they were driven down the river-bed they presented a solid wedge of hoof

and horn. The defending Indians, seeing what had happened, gave the

attackers no time to rally, but attacked in their turn, swarming over

the palisades and hurling themselves upon their trampled enemy, who had

no chief to encourage them. It was then that Shuhshuhgah pointed beneath

them, and round the base of the hill there came trotting a long line of

fresh warriors.

“They came by the tunnel,” he said. “I thought my father would use

it.”

Taken now on both sides of the river, the deep bed became a human

shambles. The carnage was ghastly.

“Your Mountain Cat is avenged,” said the Indian.

“Poor old Pussy!” replied Mipps.

In a few minutes the victory was complete, and Shuhshuhgah’s village

was safe. It was then that he raised himself upon his elbow and gave the

cry of the heron three times. Those who saw him waving ran to the

hillock.

To these, Shuhshuhgah explained how his life had been saved by the

two pale -faces, telling them to bring him the litter and carry him by

way of the tunnel to his father.

This tunnel, as Syn and Mipps discovered, was entered through a cave

on the side of the hill, and with torch-bearers to light the way, they

descended a flight of rock steps into along, wide passage. The

Englishmen walked each side of the litter, for the Indian had given a

hand to each in order to show good faith.

Presently they reached another flight of steps and, climbing this,

reached a rough doorway, which by the light of the torches they saw was

hung with a curtain of skins. Parting this, the torch-bearers called

out:

“Shuhshuhgah lives.”

They found themselves in a vast cavern, into which their wounded were

brought and attended to by the women. Amongst these there walked an

elderly man of great height and fine presence. The Indian did not need

to tell them that this was his father, and the Chieftain. The venerable

warrior turned to the torch-bearers, and watched the stretcher carried