On the Face of the Precipice.
The cane-knives were speedily at work; the grass was long and abundant, and as the two men were working for liberty—nay, probably for life itself—they were not long in cutting a sufficient quantity for their purpose. Walford was then lifted carefully out upon the ground, the grass was thickly and evenly distributed over the inner side of the hammock, and then the invalid was again deposited within it, and securely lashed up, his head only being left free. This done, two lanyards were securely attached to the extempore hammock, one at its head, and the other at its foot.
“Well done; that’s capital!” exclaimed George, as the last turn was taken, making all secure. “Now slip the bight over your—ah! here come the dogs, by all that’s unfortunate. We must defend ourselves with the cane-knives. I’ll tackle the first one, you take the next, and—mind—we have no time to waste; luckily there are only three of the brutes as yet; we must kill them, and be up out of reach before the others or their masters arrive. Keep steady, Tom, my lad, and strike so that one blow shall be sufficient. Now then—come on, you devils!”
As George finished speaking, the dogs—three superb specimens of the Cuban bloodhound—dashed up to within about ten feet of the fugitives, and there stopped, not attacking them, as they had expected, but merely baying loudly.
“This will not do,” exclaimed George; “if we turn our backs upon them for a single instant, they will seize us; and we cannot afford the time to stand looking at them. I will take the dark one, you attack the light fellow, and mind what you are about, for they are as strong and active as tigers. Now!”
At the word both men sprang forward with uplifted cane-knives, and made a slash at the dogs. The creatures tried to dodge the blows, and one of them—the one attacked by Tom—succeeded. George, however, was more fortunate; he made a feint, and as the dog sprang aside, he followed him up, recovering his weapon smartly at the same time, and bringing it down in another second on the creature’s head with such strength and effect that the skull was cloven open, and the poor brute, with a yell of agony, rolled over dead. Tom, meanwhile, was battling ineffectually with the dog he had attacked, and George turned just in time to see the hound spring savagely at the lad’s throat, and hurl him to the ground. With a single bound Leicester reached Tom’s side, and raising the cane-knife above his head, and grasping the handle with both hands, he brought it down with all his strength across the dog’s neck, taking care to avoid the thick leather collar which protected it. The blow clove through skin and bone, dividing the spine and nearly severing the head from the body; but even then it was difficult to free poor Tom from the iron jaws which had seized him. With a vigorous wrench, however, this was effected, and George then dragged the lad to his feet.
“Are you hurt?” panted Leicester.
“No,” gasped Tom. “The beast only seized me by the collar of my jacket, and—”
“Then come on at once,” interrupted George; “the third dog has turned tail, like a craven, luckily for us. Now slip the bight of the lanyard over your neck, and follow me. Leave the cane-knives; they will only encumber us, and perhaps throw us down the face of the precipice. Now, look out, I’m going to start.”
As George spoke, he approached the face of the precipice, and, taking advantage of whatever projections he could find, began the task of scaling it, Tom following behind, and Walford slung in his make-shift hammock between the two.