Sergeant Dick of the Royal Mounted Police A thrilling story of the Canadian woods
shifting their grip along as the craft swung her stern slowly in
towards the verandah again.
But the sight of the swimmers making for the verandah, as well as
the two canoes within the palisading, told Sergeant Dick that the
best thing he and the three men heaving on the ark’s bow could do
would be to take refuge inside her.
The hail of bullets now being poured upon the ark and the front of
the “castle” from the reserve canoes outside the palisades seemed to
forbid the smallest hope of him or the other three getting back
safely within the house.
He therefore bawled at the top of his voice:
“Bar the door, Mrs. Arnold--Muriel--Jenny! Never mind us out here!
Arnold, we four must get inside the ark, and hold it.”
CHAPTER XI--THE DEFENSE OF THE ARK
Sergeant Dick knew that the old squatter had the keys of the cabin
doors upon him; that there would be no necessity for them to force
an entrance.
“Right you are, sergeant!” Arnold answered; and, as the side of the
ark bumped heavily against the verandah, the old man and his two
sons vaulted hurriedly aboard, and dashed at the door near them.
Even as the key rattled in the lock, and Old Alf pushed the door in,
Sergeant Dick sprang round the corner of the “house” or cabin.
Nevertheless, inside he was within an ace of being shut
out--purposely or accidentally--by Abner Arnold, who was slamming
the door in his face, when he flung himself bodily against it, and,
by main force, thrust it open sufficiently to slip inside.
“Did you want to shut me out?” he demanded, in fierce suspicion of
the young squatter. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned
and helped to shoot home the bolts and put up the heavy wooden bars
which stood ready for the purpose.
Old Alf and Amos were rushing through into the second cabin, to make
sure of the door and broken window there.
The rattling of musketry continued unabatedly outside, and bullets
thudded against the door and the stout log-walls of the cabin like
hail. As soon as the door was secure, Sergeant Dick sprang to the
first loop on the south, or offside, of the craft, and looked forth.
He saw the plumed heads of several savage warriors ranged along the
bulwark of the scow. They were in the very act of clambering aboard!
As in the attack on the “castle,” he instantly decided to use his
automatic instead of his rifle, which, however, he had carried hung
upon his right shoulder, ready for instant use. While hurrying along
the footboard at the side of the cabin, he had seen to his
pistol--made sure that it was reloaded to its utmost capacity.
With ten lives in the deadly little weapon, he thrust its short
barrel out through the loophole, and opened a merciless fusillade
upon the Indians clambering aboard.
At every bark of the weapon there was an agonized scream outside.
Four of the redmen either lay head downwards over the bulwarks or
had fallen back into the lake, in less than as many seconds. The
others, with screams of dismay, whipped down again out of
sight--all, that is, in front of his loop.
But in the scow’s waist, and at her far end John Dick could hear the
triumphant yells of the Indians mingled with the crackle of his
fellow defenders’ revolvers.
Abner Arnold had remained at the door by which they had got in, and
was firing out through a loophole he had uncovered in it. A steel
slide was fitted into grooves over a horizontal slit, about two
inches wide, and six or eight long. Through this aperture the young
squatter had his revolver thrust, and was potting fiercely at the
Indians trying to climb over that end of the scow.
“You can hold your own, Abner?” the sergeant asked.
“Yes, curse you, yes!” was the fierce reply.
“Right. Then I’ll go along to the next cabin and see if your father
and brother need me.”
The cabin he was in was fitted up, in rather primitive style, as a
dining-compartment, or “saloon” and kitchen in one. A table-top was
hooked up within a couple of inches of the slightly rounded,
coach-like roof, and might be lowered by cords passing through rings
to the level of an ordinary table.
On either side of the cabin ran a banked seat, which could be
converted into two beds or berths--that is four in all--while there
were hooks for hammocks if there were any call for additional
sleeping accommodation.
Under the banked seats were lockers and drawers, most neatly made,
and on the four walls--over the doors and flanking these, as well as
on the two side walls--were little cupboards and all manner of
cooking utensils and other domestic equipage.
In one corner of the apartment stood a small American iron stove,
the pipe of which passed out through a hole in the eaves of the
roof.
Pursuant to his expressed intention, Sergeant Dick passed hurriedly
through the inner door into the other cabin, which was much better
furnished, and evidently reserved for the womenfolk. There was no
table hooked up, nor any stove, but there were banked seats for four
beds, as well as hooks for hammocks, a couple of
looking-glasses--the worse for frequent use--on the walls, a couple
of lift-up dressing ledges, etc., and four wardrobe cupboards, one
in each corner, for storage purposes, in addition to more lockers
and little cupboards.
John Dick took in only the faintest idea of the apartment, of
course. Naturally his thoughts were elsewhere at that moment than
with the structure of Old Alf Arnold’s strange houseboat.
He saw the old man firing out sideways, with a revolver, through a
loophole nearer him than the window with the broken shutter, and
Amos kneeling at the end-door, shooting through the lower loophole
in it. The younger man was casting anxious glances, ’tween whiles,
at the broken window, which gaped open--a square foot and more--for
any redskin foe to shoot in at.
As a matter of fact, several bullets whizzed in through it and
buried themselves with loud thuds in the opposite wall.
It was to prevent any of the Indians reaching the window that his
father was firing sideways, chiefly through the adjacent loops. Amos
had clearly run past the open window on hands and knees.
Neither he nor his father, Sergeant Dick saw, could be spared from
their posts to try to cover the broken window. Both men had their
hands full, for the time being at any rate, keeping the assailants
from getting aboard.
On the other hand it would not do for the sergeant himself to leave
Abner Arnold too long alone to hold the other cabin. Some of the foe
would be bound to return to the quarter left undefended, and if not
checked would smash in the two loops or shuttered windows at the
point.
With his usual promptitude and decision, the young sergeant of the
Royal Canadian Mounted Police at once acted. He rushed forward to
where, by the light from without, he saw the dislodged shutter lying
upon the cabin floor, caught it up, and, stooping so as not to let
his head show above the sill of the opening, dashed up under this
and clapped the shutter, still fairly serviceable and intact, save
for its lack of fastenings, over the aperture.
As he thus closed this several bullets rattled on the outside of the
shutter, almost knocking it out of his hands. But he kept it pressed
tightly over the opening with one hand, and turned and shouted to
Old Alf:
“You run and help Abner in the other cabin, Mr. Arnold. I can manage
here.”
He knocked up the hook which held the slide over the loop or slit in
the shutter, with his pistol muzzle, while he kept the shutter
pressed over the open window with his left hand. Then he pushed
aside the slide and thrust the weapon out, peering forth at the same
time.
There came a loud shout of alarm from Abner, and Old Man Arnold,
wheeling, rushed back to the other cabin.
“They’ve cut us loose, father--Amos!” Abner bawled.
A redskin’s knife or tomahawk had slashed through the solitary
mooring-rope holding his end of the scow to the “castle” verandah,
and the craft began to drift on the current towards the southern
side of the “dock,” or palisaded enclosure.
It was no easy task Sergeant Dick had set himself--to hold up the
heavy steel shutter over the window, and at the same time fire out
through the loophole in it.
All the windows aboard the ark were constructed alike. They were
merely square casements, and in the ordinary way they would be left
open for light or air. The shutters--solid plates of steel an inch
or more in thickness--were fitted in grooves, which rose above them,
and could be dropped down easily over them on the inside and hooked
into position thus.
Howling Wolf had, of course, beaten the steel plate bodily out of
its grooves, and burst the hook away--no light achievement in the
circumstances.
Old Man Arnold had kept that quarter of the scow free of boarders,
but now, on the closing of the open window, which all the Indians in
the canoes opposite had been making their target, several redskins,
swimming alongside, attempted again to board.
The two canoes within the “dock” at the same time closed up and
ranged alongside on that same quarter, and every warrior in them at
once stood up and gripped the side of the scow, making to draw
himself up and over into it.
But in this intention the majority of them were frustrated by the
sudden and by them, as well as by the defenders, the unexpected
release of the scow. This, borne upon by the current as it was,
ceased merely turning or veering round as if pivoted at its bow, and
instead began to move away sidelong, bodily.
How it happened the occupants of the canoes themselves hardly had
time to comprehend, but their dangling feet helped no doubt in the
catastrophe which followed. For coming in contact with the offside
gunwales of their frail craft, they helped to kick these under water
as the inside gunwales rose up with the scow pressing hard upon
them.
In an instant both canoes had filled and sunk, leaving half their
late occupants clinging to the scow, and the other half struggling
in the water, into which they had dropped either from fright or for
lack of a secure hold on the bulwark over them.
CHAPTER XII--SAVED BY A WOMAN’S WIT
Sergeant Dick’s automatic at once spoke rapidly; and, shot through
the brain, three of the would-be invaders fell back from the
bulwark, while the others, fearing the same fate, voluntarily let go
and likewise disappeared.
“Hooray!” shouted Amos. “We’ve done ’em yit again. Keep the shutter
up just a little longer, sergeant, and I’ll be able to help ye.”
He vacated his kneeling posture at the door, slamming and hooking
the slide over the loop in it, and turned and looked wildly about
the cabin for a means of fastening up the shutter. But his dull wits
could think of none on the spur of the moment.
“You’ll have to drop it and let it sweat, sergeant,” he said. “I
don’t see how we can manage it arter all. Look ahere, I’ll take the
loop beside it and guard it that way, and you can take the door
’stead o’ me. The women in the ‘castle’ will pick off all the red
varmints who try to board us on t’other side, you see.”
Sergeant Dick could not help smiling grimly at the young man
resigning the post at the door to him. It was far the more perilous
position if the window he was at had to be left unshuttered.
None of these young squatters commended himself very much to the
police officer. One and all, though fierce and plucky enough, he had
already had plenty of evidence, would prefer to save his own skin at
his (the sergeant’s) expense.
Without a word, however, John Dick at once dropped the shutter again
to the floor, and almost heaved a sigh of relief at being thus rid
of its most tiring weight.
Then he flitted to the door, and knelt by the loop Amos had just