At the end of that time he was rudely shaken by a strong hand. The guilty are always easily startled. Springing from his couch he had seized Bevan by the throat before he was quite awake.
“Hist! man, not quite so fast” gasped his host shaking him off. “Come, they’ve turned up sooner than I expected.”
“What—who?” said Brixton, looking round.
“My enemy, of coorse, an’ a gang of redskins to help him. They expect to catch us asleep, but they’ll find out their mistake soon enough. That lad there brought me the news, and, you see, he an’ Betty are getting things ready.”
Tom glanced through the slightly opened doorway, as he tightened his belt, and saw Betty and a boy of about fourteen years of age standing at a table, busily engaged loading several old-fashioned horse-pistols with buckshot.
“Who’s the boy?” asked Tom.
“They call him Tolly. I saved the little chap once from a grizzly b’ar, an’ he’s a grateful feller, you see—has run a long way to give me warnin’ in time. Come, here’s a shot-gun for you, charged wi’ slugs. I’m not allowed to use ball, you must know, ’cause Betty thinks that balls kill an’ slugs only wound! I humour the little gal, you see, for she’s a good darter to me. We’ve both on us bin lookin’ forward to this day, for we knowed it must come sooner or later, an’ I made her a promise that, when it did come, I’d only defend the hut wi’ slugs. But slugs ain’t bad shots at a close range, when aimed low.”
The man gave a sly chuckle and a huge wink as he said this, and entered the large room of the hut.
Betty was very pale and silent. She did not even look up from the pistol she was loading when Tom entered. The boy Tolly, however, looked at his tall, strong figure with evident satisfaction.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, ramming down a charge of slugs with great energy; “we’ll be able to make a good fight without your services, Betty. Won’t we, old man?”