But that was one leg too much. "Blaze away at him, Jim," was the order. "We'll fire alternately." And Jim's bullet knocked a chip of bark into space, but did no further harm. "It's my turn now. Watch your side."
But before Pike could take aim there came a shot from the fork of the tree that well nigh robbed the little garrison of its brave leader. The corporal was just creeping forward to where he could rest his rifle on a little rock, and the Indian's bullet struck fairly in the shoulder, tore its way down along the muscles of the back, glanced upward from the shoulder blade, and, flattening on the rock overhead, fell almost before Ned's eyes. The shock knocked the old soldier flat on his face, and there came a yell of savage triumph from the tree, answered by yells from below and above. Ned, terror stricken, sprang to the old soldier's side, just as he was struggling to rise.
"Back! boy, back! They'll all be on us now. My God! Here they come! Now, Jim, fight for all you're worth."
Bang! bang! went the two rifles. Bang! bang! bang! came the shots from both sides and from the front, while the dusky forms could be seen creeping up the rocks east and west of the fire, yelling like fiends. Crack! went Ned's little Ballard again, and Pike seized the boy and fairly thrust him into the depths of the cave. A lithe, naked form leaped into sight just at the entrance and then went crashing down into the blazing embers below. Another Indian gone. Bang! bang! bang! Heavier came the uproar of the shots below. Bang! bang! "Good God!" groaned Pike. "Has the whole Apache nation come to reinforce them? Yell, you hounds—aye—yell! There are only two of us!" Shots came ringing thick and fast. Yells resounded along the mountain side, but they seemed more of warning than of hatred and defiance. Bang! bang! bang! the rifles rattled up the rocky slopes, but where could the bullets go? Not one had struck in the cave for fully ten seconds, yet the rattle and roar of musketry seemed redoubled. What can it mean? Pike creeps still further forward to get a shot at the first Indian that shows himself, but pain and weakness are dimming the sight of his keen, brave eyes; perhaps telling on his hearing. Listen, man! Listen! Those are not Indian yells now resounding down the rocks. Listen, Pike, old friend, old soldier, old hero! Too late—too late! Just as a ringing trumpet call, "Cease firing," comes thrilling up the steep, and little Ned once more leaps forward to aid him, the veteran falls upon his face and all is darkness.
Another moment, and now the very hillside seems to burst into shouts and cheers,—joy, triumph, infinite relief. Victory shines on face after face as the bronzed troopers come crowding to the mouth of the cave. Tenderly they raise Pike from the ground and bear him out into the sunshine. Respectfully they make way for Captain Turner as he springs into their midst and clasps little Nellie in his arms; and poor old Kate, laughing, weeping and showering blessings on "the boys," is frantically shaking hands with man after man. So, too, is Black Jim. And then, half carried, half led, by two stalwart soldiers, Captain Gwynne is borne, trembling like an aspen, into their midst, and, kneeling on the rocky floor, clasps his little ones to his breast, and the strong man sobs aloud his thanks to God for their wonderful preservation.
"Papa—papa, I shot an Indian!" How many a time little Ned has to shout it, in his eager young voice, before the father can realize what is being said.
"It's the truth he's telling, sir," said a big sergeant. "There's wan of 'em lies at the corner there with a hole no bigger than a pay under the right eye," and the captain knows not what to say. The surgeon's stimulants have restored Pike to consciousness, and Gwynne kneels again to take the old soldier's hands in his. Dry eyes are few. Hearts are all too full for many words. After infinite peril and suffering, after most gallant defense, after a night of terror and a day of fiercest battle, the little party was rescued, one and all, to life and love and such a welcome when at last they were brought back to Verde, where Pike was nursed back to strength and health, where Nellie was caressed as a heroine, and where little Ned was petted and well nigh spoiled as "the boy that shot an Indian"—and if he did brag about it occasionally, when he came east to school, who can blame him? But when they came they did not this time try the route of Sunset Pass.
THE END.