Read Online Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1966 by Battle at Bear Paw Gap (v1.1) - Free Book Online Page B

followed
him to the far side. Together they paused below the mill, gazing upslope toward
the window with its yellow glow.
                 Then
Mark’s hand shot out to clutch Esau’s shoulder and force him to drop to the
ground. For between that lighted rectangle and the two watchers appeared a moving
black silhouette of a head and shoulders, sliding across as though to approach
and peep in.
                 Esau
flung himself prone and set his left elbow to the earth of the road. He shoved
his rifle forward and took aim, but Mark pushed the barrel aside. “Wait/’ he
whispered. “We don’t know who that is.”
                 “An
enemy,” Esau said under his breath, but relaxed his finger on the trigger.
                 The
dark shape seemed to stoop at the window. Then it straightened, and up rose an arm. The hand held something—a tomahawk, poised to
throw.
                 But
from inside burst a wild yell, and then a shot rang out, loud and abrupt as a
splitting tree. At once the shadow whipped itself back, and feet drummed on the
slope as they ran down toward the very spot where Mark and Esau lay.
                 “Halt!”
cried Mark, struggling to his feet.
                 As
he came up, the fleeing body slammed against his. Mark’s rifle flew from his
hands, and Mark tried to grapple and pin the unknown fugitive. His fingers
clutched a handful of loose shirt fabric. There was a rending noise, and the
stranger pulled free and shot away down the road. Mark stooped for his rifle,
but already the shape had vanished in the dark.
                 “Ha,
rogue” he heard the bellowing voice of Simon Durwell, and a door flew open. The
miller’s squat form sprang out. Light from inside gave Mark a glimpse of two
big pistols in Durwell’s hands.
                 “Hold
your fire, sir, it’s Mark Jarrett!” Mark warned hastily.
                Esau was on his knee, and he sent a
rifle shot into gloom where the figure had vanished. Durwell came charging down
to where Mark and Esau stood.
                 “Were
you at tricks outside my window?” he barked.
                 “Nay,
’twas someone we don’t know,” Mark said. “He ran when you fired. And there’s no
chance of finding him in the night.”
                 “Who
was he, then?” Durwell questioned them. “Bram’s cat Wessah gave us warning. We
sat at supper within, and Wessah looked to the window and mewed. I saw a face
there, daubed as with Indian paint. I caught up my pistols from beside my
plate, and fired. Had I taken half a second to aim, I’d have dropped him.”
                 “He
had a tomahawk, ready to hurl in at you,” said Esau. “And Bram Schneider was
within, at table with you?”
                 “ Aye, and why do you ask? Now he’s under the bed, I make no
doubt.” Durwell snorted with laughter. “He almost fell down in terror, and
spilled a saucepan of dumplings. Come, lads, up to the house. What do you do
out in the night?”
                 “We
but thought we’d make a tour of the road,” said Mark, and followed the miller
along the upward path to the house.
                 They
entered the outer room of the leanto where Durwell and Schneider kept their
bachelor living quarters. A fire burned on the hearth, and on the table a
tallow candle stood in a leaden sconce. In the corner farthest from the window
trembled Bram Schneider, clutching Wessah in his arms.
                 “You
play pranks,” Schneider accused angrily, his eyes wide in indictment. “You come
to our window, make a teufel face—I
tell your fathers about you!” “ ’Twas not we who
played pranks,” Mark assured him. “Another night-prowler was out there, poising
his tomahawk to throw in at you.”
                 “Who
was he?” Schneider hurled a question.