The Round-Up: A Romance of Arizona; Novelized from Edmund Day's MelodramaMurray, John
Philosophy
The Round-Up: A Romance of Arizona; Novelized from Edmund Day's Melodrama
Murray, John
Arizona -- Fiction; Love stories
"It's a ten to one shot that they finish me," he reflected; "but the
wages I've paid for by a year of hard work and absence from her side,
stay just as near Echo Allen as I can bring them alive, and, if there's
any truth in what they say about spirits disclosing in dreams the place
of buried treasure, with the chance of my getting them to her after I
am dead."
Taking the useless boulders from the edge of the cliff, but carefully,
so as not to expose himself to the fire of the Apaches, he piled them
on top of the upper wall in such a fashion as to form little turrets.
He left an opening in each, through which he could observe, in turn,
each point of the compass whence danger might be expected, and could
fire his Winchester without exposing himself. Then he began going from
post to post on a continuous round of self-imposed sentinel duty. "If
I could only climb the sahuaro," he thought, "and fly my red shirt as a
flag, to let the Rurales know I've flanked the enemy, it might hurry
them along in time to put a crimp in these devils before they get me.
But it'll have to be 'Hold the Fort' without any 'Oh, Say Can You See?'
business. Anyhow, I'm flying the rattlesnake flag of Bunker Hill,
'Don't Tread on Me!' Whether the Rurales see it or not, I've saved
their hides. If the Apaches had got to this fort first, gee, how they
would have crumpled up the Greasers as they came along the trail!"
Rendered thirsty by his exertions, Lane remembered the canteen in the
bisnaga, which he had forgotten among his other preparations for
defense. He cautiously reached his hand over the ledge, and secured
the precious vessel, but, as he was withdrawing it, PING! came a bullet
through the canteen, knocking it out of his hand. As it fell clattering
down the side of the ledge, he groaned: "Damned good shooting! They've
probably left their best marksman below with the ponies. No hope for
escape on that side. Well, there's some consolation in the thought that
they'll undoubtedly finish me before I get too damned thirsty. Glad it
wasn't my hand."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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