But only for a moment. The leaders soon righted themselves, Downing regaining his feet first. With a wild, profane oath he darted on, beside himself with rage.
The men followed. Walter, knowing a critical and almost hopeless crisis had come, threw down his gun, and brandishing the keen bowie, awaited their attack.
It came. The robbers, anticipating an easy victory, rushed against the barrier, supposing it would give to their combined weight and momentum. But the vines were tough and strong, and though the robbers dashed in a body upon them they resisted the shock. They swayed, bent, and creaked, but, with their natural elasticity, immediately returned to their natural position.
“Cut through the accursed vines!” howled Downing, white with rage. “Cut through them! No quarter to the villain inside! Cut his throat the minute you get at him!”
Drawing his knife, he set the example by cutting wildly and violently. Fortunate it was for Walter the vines were tough and thick—fortunate it was for him that he had an open space behind him to fight in.
“Get behind that log, yonder, Kate!” ordered Walter. “Else you may get hit by a bullet.”
She obeyed. Now danger had come, now that an imminent crisis had arrived, she, though pale, was calm and collected. Disregarding his command to lie still, she seized his abandoned gun, and lying behind the log, attempted to reload it. But she had no ammunition—it was hanging to Walter’s shoulder.
Slipping up behind him, she quickly took off his powder-horn and bullet-pouch, then retreated to the log and loaded the gun, finding caps in the pouch. Then she watched her lover with the eye of a lynx.
He stood behind the only tree in his “fort,” watching, with snapping eyes, the robbers as they energetically worked at the vines. Cutting and twisting, they worked hard and swiftly, and soon Walter could see their hands protruding through the leaves.
One hand in particular he noticed—a brown, horny hand, huge in dimensions. A thought struck him. Creeping softly within easy striking distance, he raised his knife, and taking a sure, deliberate aim, struck it with all his force. At the same time Fink, outside, cried aloud, and drawing his arm hastily back from his task, exposed it to view.