It was too horrible to think of. Chris all through that afternoon had been suffering from the effect of his exertions, and had sunk into a restful state a long way on to the border which divides wakefulness from sleep; but with the coming of darkness his brain had become active to a painful degree, and but for the stringent orders he had received to be prepared and wait with the ponies, he would have gone forward, sought his father, and told him of his fears.
“He’s sure to know better than I do,” cried the boy at last, to comfort himself, but with very poor effect, as he kept his watch till the darkness had seemed to settle down like a flood in the gulch, the ponies had become invisible, and the sky had turned to a dark purple with a few stars dotting it here and there.
Half-an-hour now passed, and then the boy’s agonised tension was broken by three shots ringing out almost together.
“A volley!” he said aloud, and the words had hardly passed his lips before there was a repetition of the reports.
“The other three barrels!” he cried excitedly, and then, speaking as if those of whom he thought were close at hand, “Load, load, load!” he panted. “Oh, quick, quick! They’re coming on!”
He waited again, but there was not a sound, and half-an-hour seemed to have passed, during which his busy brain invented a host of horrors, chief among which was that in which he pictured to himself the Indians stealing up to the defenders of the barrier, knife in hand, to spring upon them and massacre all before they could fire another shot in their defence.
So horrible became the silence at last that Chris felt that if it lasted much longer he must mount his mustang and ride forward to learn the worst.
“Even if they kill me,” he muttered, and he mentally saw himself falling beneath the enemy’s blows.
But in response to a desperate effort to recall his duty those thoughts grew dull and distant, and straining his eyes to gaze into the darkness he obeyed a sudden impulse to slip the ponies’ bridles into their mouths, fasten a strap or two, and then tighten the saddle-girths, the animals submitting patiently enough, and allowing themselves to be placed in readiness for a start.
“I can’t do anything more,” he said to himself. “Oh, how terribly dark!”