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Updated: June 12, 2025
She did not speak, but her mistress knew the meaning of the act. The Comanche had placed his foot on the upper round of the ladder and was about to descend to the lower apartments, where they were awaiting him. "Leave him to me," whispered Mrs. Shirril; "don't stir or do anything."
Lying extended as flat as before, Captain Shirril placed his ear close to the door and listened. Within the first minute he caught a sound, but it was so faint and indefinite that he could not tell what it meant. It might have been caused by someone moving about in the room directly below, but he was inclined to believe that the Comanche was still near the scuttle and was trying to get his range.
"It will be worse for their heads than for the door, but I think your people are the only ones who work that way." "Dat's 'cause we hab de hardest kind ob heads," was the truthful response; "but mebbe dey's usin' somethin' else to break in de door." "It can do no injury if they do," replied Mrs. Shirril, who could not shake off a feeling of uneasiness because of the discovery.
The meal was quickly finished, and Captain Shirril, with two of his hands, set out for the camp to the rear, where he hoped to find the missing cattle. Since there was a possibility that they had strayed in other directions, three more men were despatched to make search. It was rather curious that the captain selected as his assistants his nephew Avon and the young Comanche Shackaye.
Shirril?" she asked in a whisper. "Yes, Dinah," came the guarded response; "don't bother me for a few minutes; I want to watch and listen." "All right; dat suits me," muttered the servant with a chuckle, as she closed the door with the utmost care.
It was not necessary to explain, for, before he could have done so, his comrades caught sight of the stirring scene which thrilled their leader. Captain Shirril and his nephew were standing off a party of dusky assailants, who were pressing them hard.
It was hardly dark, indeed, when a horseman was seen approaching from the southward, on an easy gallop, and there was no doubt that he belonged to the other party. "It's my old friend Sclevinger," said Captain Shirril, recognizing the visitor, as he saluted, and, checking his steed beside that of the old Texan, extended his hand, with the heartiest of salutations.
"No; I didn't hear him nor did you either; dat warn't de voice ob Avon." "How can you know that?" asked Mrs. Shirril, beginning to feel anew hope within her. "Lor' o' massy! habent I heerd de voice ob dat younker offen 'nough to know it 'mong ten fousand?
Shirril had no fear of his trying to burn the structure, for, if he did so, his own situation would be as hopeless as theirs. The sounds of firing and the noise on the roof, which soon reached her ears, caused great uneasiness for her husband, but, like a pioneer's wife, she gave her whole attention to the peril that confronted her. Suddenly the servant touched her arm.
This was simply prudence on their part, since they knew there was the best reason for believing the whites would instantly seize any advantage offered them. Captain Shirril now did an exceedingly clever thing.
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