Sergeant Dick of the Royal Mounted Police A thrilling story of the Canadian woods
within it. We can do nothing as yet to succor your relations, Miss
Arnold, but we can get all in readiness, before their arrival, to
beat off the savages, or at any rate hold the wretches well at bay.
Ah, see!”
And he pressed the binoculars into the hands of the girl.
“The ark has met your uncle and cousins, and they are getting aboard
her. You may count them safe now from all pursuit so long as the
wind lasts; and it is not likely to drop for some time, blowing as
hard as it is. Come! We’ll see to all the windows--make preparations
for a possibly long and determined siege by the craftiest enemies
ever known.”
The first war-whoop of the more distant body of redskins was
answered by another from the half-dozen leading canoes--the original
pursuers, who now concentrated a heavy fire upon the ark as she took
aboard the fugitives.
CHAPTER VI--THE TRAPPER AND HIS SONS
Muriel waited to dart a glance through the glasses in the direction
of her relatives before following the police-sergeant into the
house.
She saw the ark lying almost broadside on, in the act of putting
about, with her cousins and cousins-in-law helping each other on to
the stern-quarter from the two canoes.
A sufficiently wide and high screen had been put up by her aunt to
cover Jenny at the tiller; and, from behind this shelter, Aunt Kate
herself was rapidly firing at the Indians in the leading canoes,
holding them well in check.
The strange echo from the western shore wafted the sounds of the
brisk exchange of shots to Muriel’s ears.
The screen her aunt and Jenny used was as big as two cabin doors
placed side by side. Several inches thick, and covered on both sides
with sheet iron, it was as much as two ordinary men could lift, yet
Aunt Kate had moved it with ease by herself.
It had two collapsing or folding legs on one side, like the back
legs of a pair of steps, so that it would stand upright. Furthermore
it was loopholed for rifle-fire.
Uncle Alf and his sons and daughters-in-law, as they scrambled
aboard from the canoes, were sheltered by the cabin from the fire of
their red enemies. Some of them, rushing inside the two
compartments, at once replied to it briskly--aided their mother in
keeping the assailants back while the canoes were got in.
Then round the scow was turned, the screen astern being moved with
the tiller to keep it or rather those at it still covered, and back
the craft came bowling, with bellying sail, towards the “castle”
again.
Muriel, half-laughing, half-crying with relief and satisfaction, now
ran inside the house after Sergeant Dick.
“Where are you, sergeant?” she called, and he answered from one of
the back bedrooms.
“My uncle and cousins are all safe aboard the ark, and are making
here as fast as the wind can blow them,” she called back. “Of course
they could not hope to hold their own in the ark against so many
canoes. The only thing is to defend the ‘castle’ to the bitter end.”
She passed through, as she spoke, into the central passage, from
which the six rooms of the “castle” all opened, and joined the
sergeant in the left-hand back bedroom.
That apartment contained four small square windows, two in the rear
wall, and two at the side.
Sergeant Dick had already secured two out of the four windows by
letting down sliding shutters set within the embrasures. These
shutters were, like the tiller-screen used on the ark, of stout wood
faced and backed by iron plating, and they were fastened in
position, when let down, by strong bolts, so that they could not be
easily forced from without.
The windows, being of the casement type, opened inward, and could be
hooked back against the wall. In each shutter was a loophole for
firing through.
Sergeant Dick noticed that the corner forming the outside angle of
the house was rounded off by an extra vertical balk of timber,
fitted triangular-wise into it, thus greatly increasing the
thickness of the two outer walls just there.
As the window on either hand was only a mere step from the corner, a
man stationed there could with ease defend both the back and side of
the house; and the extra thickness of the rounded angle would render
his position still more snug and safe.
“This is my married cousin Abel’s bedroom,” explained Muriel, as she
let down one of the shutters and shot home the two bolts on it.
“You’ve seen to all the windows in--which other room?”
“The one through that door,” replied John Dick, pointing towards the
front of the house.
Another door, alongside the one the girl had come in, led into a
bedroom between that they were in and the living-room.
There were no fewer than three doors in every room in the house, so
that it was possible to make a complete circuit of this without
utilizing the central passage, the idea being to enable the inmates,
in case of a siege or other emergency, like fire, passing quickly
from one room to another.
“Aaron and Deborah’s room,” Muriel said. “Come then, the bathroom
must be our next concern.”
She led the way through the third door into a room somewhat smaller,
fitted up with a large enameled iron bath--a piece of furniture
which considerably surprised Sergeant Dick to find in a Wild West
home of such limited dimensions, especially when built over a lake.
This apartment had its three doors like all the others, one in each
of the inner walls, and having shuttered and bolted the two windows
in it, the sergeant and Muriel went on into the next room.
“This is the room my cousin Jenny and I share,” explained the girl.
Had she not told him, Sergeant Dick would have guessed as much from
the female articles of dress and finery hanging around, as well as
the general subtle atmosphere of daintiness that prevailed.
Pictures hung on the walls here, including a pretty water-color
sketch of a lovely woman in evening dress.
There were _four_ windows in this room, and they had all to be
shuttered and made fast in like manner to the others. Then the man
and girl entered Uncle Alf and Aunt Kate’s bedroom adjoining,
secured the two windows there, and, passing through yet another
door, found themselves back in the living-room, the windows of which
they likewise secured.
“Now there only remains the front door,” said Muriel, adding, with a
laugh, “and we can’t very well fasten that up until my uncle and
aunt and the others are all safe inside with us.”
She stepped out again on to the verandah. And Dick, following her,
saw that the ark was coming on fast to the “castle,” and was not a
quarter of a mile away now, while the Indian canoes, although
paddling their swiftest in her wake, were fully half a mile off.
Laughing softly and yet tremulously over the escape of her relations
from their pursuers, Muriel remained at the front door with the
sergeant, while the ark drew nearer and nearer, until at last it was
close enough for its occupants to exchange greetings with her and
Dick.
These greetings were naturally curt and scant.
Sailing up to the open gateway in the palisades, Uncle Alf and his
sons warped the ark in by means of boathooks. Then the gate was
padlocked behind the craft, and she was drawn by a rope, which
Sergeant Dick threw from the verandah, alongside the hanging-ladder.
“Glad to have ye here, sergeant,” greeted Uncle Alf--a huge,
grizzled Hercules of a man--as he sprang up the steps and grasped
Dick’s hand cordially. “The more pairs of eyes behind the sights of
rifles, and hands to use the weapons, the better, in the face of
that crowd of painted, blood-thirsty rips. Ye’re more’n welcome,
sergeant.”
“’Specially if ye can shoot as straight as most of you troopers
can,” grinned the eldest son, Abel.
The rude witticism was received by all with a merriment that spoke
volumes for their dauntlessness, in the face of the red peril coming
on so fast behind them.
The ark was hurriedly moored alongside the verandah, the cabin doors
being locked with ordinary keys and then padlocked as well, so that
they might not be easily burst in if the savages got aboard.
The iron-plated tiller shield was brought into the house, and all
withdrew within this. Then the door was not only locked and bolted,
top and bottom, but also barricaded with stout logs, put
transversely across it, at intervals of only a few feet, within iron
sockets screwed on to the doorposts.
Sergeant Dick and the four women did the barricading, while the old
trapper and his four stalwart sons--all big, powerful men like
himself--hastily arranged as to where each of them should be
stationed.
Bella and Deborah Arnold, Muriel’s two cousins-in-law, had both of
them a certain amount of flamboyant beauty allied to a
devil-may-care air, well suited to the rather picturesque, if
unconventional, costumes they wore.
They were dressed like cowgirls, in short skirts, “wide-awake” hats,
and top boots; and round their waists they had cartridge-belts
supporting cases containing automatic pistols, while slung on their
backs were heavy Winchester repeaters.
“The pelts will be safe enough in the ark,” said old Alf. “The
painted rips are not likely to get inside the palisades ag’in our
rifles. If they do they’re more welcome to the pelts than to our
scalps. Now, sergeant, you and me ’ull defend this ’ere room, the
front of the house, with the old woman and Muriel. Abel, my eldest
son, will go to his bedroom, and hold the back and the right side of
the house with his wife. And, Amos, you will take your stand in the
middle room on the right-hand side--your brother Aaron’s room. Aaron
and Deborah, you two will take Muriel and Jenny’s room; and, Abner,
your mother’s and my room. Jenny, you will remain in the central
passage with all the doors open, and be ready to go to the aid of
any one who needs you, take round fresh ammunition, or refill the
water-buckets if necessary.”
Sergeant Dick, used as he was to the giving and receiving of
commands, as well as to prompt decision and arrangement in crises
like the present, was surprised in no small measure at the
military-like precision of the old trapper, as the latter thus
ordered the defense.
He had fully expected that all would look to him to do this.
But, doubtless, Dick told himself, Old Man Arnold had planned the
defense of the place repeatedly, and all his sons and daughters were
well schooled in the _rôles_ they were to play in it.
They had not long been at their posts--with jugs of drinking water
and water-buckets, in case of fire, placed handy--when the Indian
flotilla came within gunshot in the rapidly deepening darkness.
It at once divided into two parties, each taking opposite sides of
the lake, clearly so as to surround the “castle.”
CHAPTER VII--HOWLING WOLF
“They will land on Stable Islet, sure, and try and carry off the
horses there,” growled Uncle Alf. “They’ll tow the beasts off,
swimming, behind a canoe.”
“Better that,” said Muriel, “than that they should kill the animals
or burn them alive in the stable. Poor old Dobbin and Betty. I’ll
never see you again, I expect.”
“Wait,” said Sergeant Dick. “I will speak to the Indians. It is my
duty to. Perhaps I can pacify them--prevail on the mad fools to
abandon the warpath and return peacefully to the Reservation.”
Alf Arnold guffawed derisively.
“Mout as well try to reason with tigers that hev tasted or smelt
blood,” he said. “They’ll not listen to you, sergeant, but be far
more likely to give ye a volley. You’ll never be so dodrotted
foolish as to put your nose outside the door?”
“It is my duty as an officer of the law to try and avert bloodshed
and reason with them, and I mean to,” answered Dick quietly. “I am
going to unbar the door again.”
“Don’t show yourself, sergeant, for Heaven’s sake,” implored Muriel,