them. After some twenty -five yards of this difficult passage, they came
out upon another trail, when the Indian was once more put upon the
stretcher and carried on. Presently they heard the lowing of cattle
mingled with the war -cries, and at the same time the trail, which had
been rising steadily, reached a summit heavily overshadowed by trees.
Up this the Indian crawled from the stretcher, and, after peering over
cautiously, motioned the others to leave the litter below and join him.
From this vantage they looked down upon a grassy plateau where some two
hundred head of cattle were grazing, guarded by three our four mounted
Indians, who tro tted their shaggy ponies backwards and forwards along
the slope to prevent the cattle roaming into the range of arrow fire
from the stockade village. From the height where they crouched, the
three fugitives could see the main body of the attacking force awaiting
the order to advance against the palisades in the shelter of a dried -up
river-bed. Shuhshuhgah whispered that his father would await attack, and
then spare some half of his braves to run through the tunneled secret
path which came out into a cave at the base of the very hillock upon
which they now waited. The enemy were dancing safely in the river-bed,
working themselves up into the required frenzy for attack.
It was then that Mipps made what seemed to Syn an entirely irrelevant
remark, but which was destined not only to spell disaster to the
attackers, but to coin a name which was to become fearful enough to
terrorize the trade routes of the high seas.
Mipps pointed to Shuhshuhgah’s blood-stained bandage and whispered,
“Ere, look at that big beast. Enjoying a good meal off your blood,
Shushy mate.”
The Indian looked at his leg, and saw what, to the others, was a
large gag-or horsefly. He took the fearful insect very carefully
between his finger and thumb, and with a smile of triumph said, “It is
the Clegg. Terrible fellow too. You shall see what he can do. Look.”
- 90 -
He flung it into the air over the lip of the hillock in the direction
of the cattle. They saw it flying and heard its waspish note. The cattle
sensed its coming. Panic seized them. This fly was their worst enemy,
for it was too small to trample or toss, and yet, large enough to suck
their blood and cause the most maddening irritation. A medieval knight
in full armour might have felt the same toward a flea. Bellowing in
panic, they stampeded for the river-bed in full gallop, sliding down the
bank in terror right amongst the dancing Indians, who fell and scattered
before the giant impact. By now the invisible Clegg fly kept the cattle
on the run, and, like a sheep-dog, kept them well herded, so that as
they were driven down the river-bed they presented a solid wedge of hoof
and horn. The defending Indians, seeing what had happened, gave the
attackers no time to rally, but attacked in their turn, swarming over
the palisades and hurling themselves upon their trampled enemy, who had
no chief to encourage them. It was then that Shuhshuhgah pointed beneath
them, and round the base of the hill there came trotting a long line of
fresh warriors.
“They came by the tunnel,” he said. “I thought my father would use
it.”
Taken now on both sides of the river, the deep bed became a human
shambles. The carnage was ghastly.
“Your Mountain Cat is avenged,” said the Indian.
“Poor old Pussy!” replied Mipps.
In a few minutes the victory was complete, and Shuhshuhgah’s village
was safe. It was then that he raised himself upon his elbow and gave the
cry of the heron three times. Those who saw him waving ran to the
hillock.
To these, Shuhshuhgah explained how his life had been saved by the
two pale -faces, telling them to bring him the litter and carry him by
way of the tunnel to his father.
This tunnel, as Syn and Mipps discovered, was entered through a cave
on the side of the hill, and with torch-bearers to light the way, they
descended a flight of rock steps into along, wide passage. The
Englishmen walked each side of the litter, for the Indian had given a
hand to each in order to show good faith.
Presently they reached another flight of steps and, climbing this,
reached a rough doorway, which by the light of the torches they saw was
hung with a curtain of skins. Parting this, the torch-bearers called
out:
“Shuhshuhgah lives.”
They found themselves in a vast cavern, into which their wounded were
brought and attended to by the women. Amongst these there walked an
elderly man of great height and fine presence. The Indian did not need
to tell them that this was his father, and the Chieftain. The venerable
warrior turned to the torch-bearers, and watched the stretcher carried
in. Then, approaching, he said:
“Shuhshuhgah.”
Syn and Mipps were standing aside to allow the father to embrace his
son, whom he must have thought dead, but the son would not allow this.
Instead he placed the Englishmen’s hands upon those of the Chief, and in
the Indian tongue told how they had risked their lives and saved his.
The old man replied with fitting thanks, which Syn not only understood,
but answered, much to their astonishment, in the same language.
Mipps said, “Ere, sir, I’m missing all this. Wish you’d talk
English.”
After Shuhshuhgah’s leg had been re-dressed, the Chieftain conducted
them to his own hut, and gave them rum and light flour-cakes. Mipps, who
was a good trencherman at any time, swallowed his portion in two
mouthfuls and looked around for more.
- 91 -
At this, Shuhshuhgah smiled and said, “Do not spoil your stomach for
the victory feast, my little brave. There will be eating and dancing to
fill by sunset. Do you not smell the cattle roasting?”
Mipps sniffed and nodded, and stayed his gnawing stomach with that
reflection. He was glad, however, to find that there was no such
restriction put upon the rum, in that it was as powerful as fire.
All this while the warriors were returning with scalps. The cattle
had been rounded up, and the oxen upon the spit poles were roasted. With
great ceremony the Chief sat with his son, Syn and Mipps around him.
Before the feast started, the singing poet of the tribe sang of the
killing, thanking God for the bravery of the pal e-faces who had saved
their beloved Shuhshuhgah, whose own ingenuity with the Clegg fly came
in for many stanzas of praise. There followed a dance, in which the
scene was re -enacted, and with great effect, since Syn and Mipps,
falling into their humour, loaned not only their jackets and threecornered hats to those representing them, but sword and cutlass as well.
Mipps having no stature, a little boy was picked to dance his part, and
Mipps applauded this urchin’s caperings more than any. This and the rum
so excited this admiration, that upon the conclusion of the dance, Mipps
leapt to his feet and, shouting a nautical tune, executed a very
spirited hornpipe, to the wonder of the Indians.
The feast itself went on for hours, during which, with much strange
ceremony, Syn and Mipps were made blood-brothers of the tribe, and given
many a pipe of peace. Indian trophies of value were presented to them,
Mipps being specially delighted with a barrel of rum for his own
consumption.
“This is the life for me, sir,” he told his master. “Better than