As for Dutch, he singled out Lauré, and made a desperate attack upon him with his long, keen knife, the shot the Cuban fired at him having merely grazed his neck, but directly after they were separated in the struggle as the furious knot of combatants swayed to and fro. But he rid himself of another antagonist, and seizing the cutlass with which he was armed again made at the Cuban.
As he approached, Lauré raised his revolver once more, took steady aim, and was about to fire; but regardless of this, Dutch struggled to get at him, when a wild shriek from a voice he knew made him turn for a moment, and that threw him off his guard. Poor Hester had been a horrified witness of the struggle, and had seen Lauré’s deadly aim. Till that moment her lips had been. Sealed, but now the involuntary cry escaped her, and as Dutch turned, the shot struck him on the shoulder, fortunately only ploughing a shallow flesh wound; but the next moment a blow from another hand struck him down, and the rest being mastered, the men, by Lauré’s orders dragged out two injured comrades and, securing the weapons, left the slippery cabin and secured the door.
Story 1--Chapter XXXI.
Renegades.
When Dutch recovered his senses, it was to find his head resting in his wife’s lap, and the doctor busily engaged in bandaging his wounds, and as the misty sense of wonder passed off, a feeling of thankfulness came upon him, and he pressed the little soft hand that held his, for his great horror had been lest Hester should have fallen into Lauré’s hands. The joy he felt was heightened, too, by seeing Bessy Studwick there as well, busily attending her father, and then going from one to the other, carrying water, for the heat was terrible, and the wounds caused a thirst that was almost maddening. But, painful as they were, not one man had received mortal injury, and the doctor’s words were more healing even than his bandages.
Some hours passed, and then the cabin door was opened, and food and water carried in by three of the men; and then, with Lauré fully armed behind him, came ’Pollo, who with swab and pail was ordered to remove the blood that liberally besprinkled the cabin floor.
His lips parted to speak, as he was at work where Oakum sat up with bandaged head, contentedly chewing his tobacco; but a significant motion of the Cuban’s hands made him turn hastily away.
This did not close Oakum’s lips, though, for he said, quietly,—