At this crisis occurred the incident which I have characterised as ludicrous.
With the exception of the few engaged in their coarse cuisine, the rest of us remained in the water. We were lying around the circular rim of the basin — our bodies parallel to one another, and our heads upon the bank. We were not dreaming of being disturbed by an intruder of any kind — at least for a time. We were no longer in fear of the fire, and our savage foemen were far off.
All at once, however, an enemy was discovered in an unexpected quarter — right in the midst of us.
Just in the centre of the pond, where the water was deepest, a monstrous form rose suddenly to the surface; at the same time that our ears were greeted with a loud bellowing, as if half a score of bulls were let loose into the glade.
In an instant, the water was agitated and lashed into foam, and the spray fell in showers around our heads.
Weird-like and sudden, as was the apparition, there was nothing mysterious about it. The hideous form, and deep barytone were well-known to all. It was simply an alligator.
But for its enormous size the presence of the reptile would scarce have been regarded; but it was one of the largest of its kind — its long body almost equalling the diameter of the pond, with huge gaunt jaws that seemed capable of swallowing a man at a single "gulp." Its roar, too, was enough to inspire even the boldest with terror.
It produced this effect; and the wild frightened looks of those in the water — their confused plunging and splashing, as they scrambled to their feet and hastened to get out of it — their simultaneous rushing up the bank, and scattering off into the open ground — all contributed to form a spectacle ludicrous in the extreme.
In less than ten seconds’ time the great saurian had the pond to himself; where he continued to bellow, and lash the water in his rage.
He was not permitted to exult long in his triumph. The hunters, with several others, seized their rifles, and ran forwards to the edge of the pond, when a volley from a dozen guns terminated the monster’s existence.
Those who had been "ashore," were already convulsed with laughter at the scared fugitives; but the latter, having recovered from their momentary affright, now joined in the laugh, till the woods rang with a chorus of wild cachinnations.
Could the Indians have heard us at that moment, they must have fancied as mad, or more likely dead, and that our voices were those of their own fiends, headed by Wykome himself — rejoicing over the holocaust of their pale-faced foes.
Chapter Ninety
A Conflict in Darkness
The forest continued to burn throughout the night, the following day, and the night after. Even on the second day, most of the trees were still on fire.
They no longer blazed, for the air was perfectly still, and there was no wind to fan the fire into flame. It was seen in red patches against the trunks, smouldering and gradually becoming less, as its strength spontaneously died out.
From many of the trees it had disappeared altogether, and these no longer bore any resemblance to trees, but looked like huge, sharp-pointed stakes, charred and black, as though profusely coated with coal-tar.
Though there were portions of the forest that might now have been traversed, there were other places where the fire still burned fiercely enough to oppose our progress. We were still besieged by the igneous element — as completely confined within the circumscribed boundaries of the glade, as if encompassed by a hostile army of twenty times our number — indeed, more so. No rescue could possibly reach us. Even our enemies, so far as our safety was concerned, could not have "raised the siege."
So far the old hunter’s providence had stood us in good stead. But for the horse some of us must have succumbed to hunger; or, at all events, suffered its extreme. We had been now four days without food — except what the handful of pine cones and the horse-flesh afforded us; and still the fiery forest hemmed us in. There was no alternative but to stay where we were until, as Hickman phrased it, "the woods should git cool."
We were cheered with the hope that another day would effect this purpose, and we might travel with safety.
The prospect before us was gloomy as that around us. As our dread of the fire declined, that of our human foes increased in an inverse proportion. We had but little hope of getting off without an encounter. They could traverse the woods as soon as we, and were certain to be on the look-out. With them the account was still to be settled. The gauntlet was yet to be run.
But we had grown fierce and less fearful. The greatest coward of our party had become brave, and no one voted for either skulking or hanging back. Stand or fall, we had resolved upon keeping together, and cutting our way through the hostile lines, or dying in the attempt. It was but the old programme, with a slight change in the mise-en-scene.
We waited only for another night to carry our plans into execution. The woods would scarce be as "cool" as we might have desired, but hunger was again hurrying us. The horse — a small one — had disappeared. Fifty starved stomachs are hard to satisfy. The bones lay around clean picked — those that contained marrow, broken into fragments and emptied of their contents; even the hideous saurian was a skeleton!
A more disgusting spectacle was presented by the bodies of the two criminals. The heat had swollen them to enormous proportions, and decomposition had already commenced. The air was loaded with that horrid effluvia peculiar to the dead body of a human being.
Our comrades who fell in the fight had been buried, and there was some talk of performing the like office for the others. No one objected; but none volunteered to take the trouble. In such cases men are overpowered by an extreme apathy; and this was chiefly the reason why the bodies of these wretches were suffered to remain without interment.
With eyes bent anxiously towards the west, we awaited the going down of the sun. So long as his bright orb was above the horizon, we could only guess at the condition of the fire. The darkness would enable us to distinguish that part of the forest that was still burning, and point out the direction we should take. The fire itself would guide us to the shunning of it.
Twilight found us on the tiptoe of expectation, and not without hope. There was but little redness among the scathed pines — the smoke appeared slighter than we had yet observed it. Some believed that the fires were nearly out — all thought the time had arrived when we could pass through them.
An unexpected circumstance put this point beyond conjecture. While we stood waiting, the rain began to fall — at first in big solitary drops, but in a few moments it came pouring down as if all heaven’s fountains had been opened together.
We hailed the phenomenon with joy. It appeared an omen in our favour. We could hardly restrain ourselves from setting forth at once; but the more cautious counselled the rest to patience, and we stood awaiting the deeper darkness.
The rain continued to pour — its clouds hastening the night. As it darkened, scarce a spark appeared among the trees.
"It is dark enough," urged the impatient. The others yielded, and we started forth into the bosom of the ruined forest. We moved silently along amid the black, calcined trunks. Each grasped his gun tight and ready for use. Mine was held only in one hand — the other rested in a sling.
In this plight I was not alone. Half a dozen of my comrades had been also "winged;" and together we kept in the rear. The better men marched in front, Hickman and Weatherford acting as guides.
The rain beat down upon us. There was no longer a foliage to intercept it. As we walked under the burnt branches, the black char was driven against our faces, and as quickly washed off again. Most of the men were bareheaded — their caps were over the locks of their guns to keep them dry — some sheltered their priming with the skirts of their coats.