For a moment Mahon thought of stalking them, but reflection decided him against it. It was a risk too great to justify exposing his life. For all it would gain at the best he, in charge of the defence, must not undertake it. And there was really no extra danger to the shack, since it could not be taken from the rear.
He wormed his way back more carefully through the kitchen door and reported what he had seen. Torrance, far from feeling gratitude for the Indian's defence of the trestle, fumed that it should be left to the care of any one but himself. In the midst of his grumbling the first bullets struck the shack. They penetrated door and window and embedded themselves in the rear walls. But Mahon had disposed of the defenders with that peril in mind.
Of the eight Constable Williams and Murphy were stationed in the kitchen, with its one window and door. In Tressa's room, the point of least exposure, two of the crew were established. Torrance and another of the crew held the contractor's bedroom at the front. The living room Mahon himself, assisted by the last member of the crew, took in charge. Tressa carried messages, under strict orders to avoid exposure to window or door. One man in each pair was told off to co-operate with the defenders of any threatened point.
The weakness of the defence was the number of rifles. Torrance had two, the Policemen two. One rifle was given to each room; each of the eight had a revolver. Mahon was almost satisfied that the ammunition would last out any siege the bohunks were likely to undertake.
A few minutes' contemplation of the stable exposure convinced him that the attackers could gain nothing there. To fire the stable would only rob them of the sole protection to the rear, and, with what wind there was against it, fire would not spread to the house.
Standing to the left of the living room window while he reflected, he imagined a movement far down the grade. Immediately he fired. From Torrance's room came the thunder of his rifle. Evidently the bohunks were crossing the grade in numbers.
Thereafter nothing happened for half an hour but pointless and desultory potting. It promised nothing to the attackers and the defence was still intact. The windows were shattered, and by the tinkle of glass every picture and ornament in the room must have been smashed. From the trestle the silence was broken only twice. The Indian was saving his cartridges.
Suddenly a burst of five shots in quick succession warned Mahon that the Indian was alarmed. Recklessly the Sergeant looked through the window. From just beneath the sleepers that held the rails a jabbing flight of flashes pierced the darkness, pointing along the edge of the bank above the path leading up from Conrad's shack. A pause of only a moment—the Indian was filling his magazine—then another burst of the most rapid firing Mahon had ever heard from one rifle. Not a shot replied from the trees along the bank.
Mahon was puzzled. Was a big attack forming? Did the Indian see some threat of which those in the shack were unaware? Mahon issued sharp orders for increased vigilance. But why shoot in that direction to ward off concentrated attack?
The Indian's bullets continued to pour along the edge of the forest.