“Then there’s going to be a big fight when they do find it out,” said Griggs quietly. “I don’t want them to come yet till my hand grows a bit steady, for, kill and slay or no, we’ve got to bring down all we can.”
“I suppose so,” said the doctor gravely. “It’s their lives or ours.”
“Yes. They’ll be real mad; and we’ve got to give them a lesson—one that will make them shy of trying bows and arrows against rifles.—Yes, getting all right again now,” continued the speaker, in answer to eager inquiries from the other side of the gap.
“That’s right,” said Bourne. “Lee.”
“Yes?”
“What do you think of making for the ponies and mules now, before the Indians find that they’re trapped?”
“May I tell him, sir?” said Griggs sharply.
“Yes, say what you think,” cried the doctor.
“Look here, Mr Bourne,” said Griggs quickly; “the doctor thinks the same as I do—that it would be mad, giving ourselves up to be massacred. We’ve got to hold this barricade for our lives, and shoot down every man who tries to climb it. There must be no misses this time. Do you hear, boys? You’re fighting for your fathers’ lives as well as your own. It’s no time to be sorry for the poor Indians now. Shoot your best, and leave them to be sorry for themselves.—By the way, Chris, my lad, can you give me a drink out of your water-bottle? I’m pretty well dried-up. I had to fling mine away so as to run lighter, and it was getting so close that I was very nearly sending my rifle and cartridges off as well. But I managed to bring them home.—Hah!” he continued, after a long draught from the bottle Chris handed to him. “What fine stuff water is. I think we’ve found out that, Squire Bourne, even if we haven’t found the gold.”
“Hush! Listen!” cried the doctor, and he held up his hand.