The Jungle Fugitives: A Tale of Life and Adventure in India Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  YANKEE MARKSMANSHIP.

  As Jack Everson was seated he faced the broad, sluggish Ganges, withthe low, green banks beyond. He was looking over the water, in therays of the declining sun, when he saw something that caused him torise hastily from his seat and peer earnestly across the river towardthe opposite shore. Observing his action, the doctor asked hisquestion. Both he and his daughter, rising to their feet, gazed in thesame direction. It was easy to see what had attracted the attention oftheir guest. A party of horsemen, fully twenty, if not more, innumber, had approached the river and were now halted on the other side,looking across in the direction of Dr. Marlowe's home, as if debatingthe question of making it a visit.

  "Let me get my glass," said Mary, starting toward the house, hardly ahundred feet distant.

  "Allow me to bring it," interrupted Jack. "It is on one of the chairson the veranda, and I want my rifle."

  Taking the glass from him on his return, the young woman levelled it atthe group of horsemen on the other side.

  "I cannot make out who they are," she said, passing the glass to herfather.

  It took the parent but a few seconds to answer the question. Onesweeping glance told him.

  "They are Ghoojurs," he remarked, with as much calmness as he couldassume.

  "And who are Ghoojurs?" asked Jack Everson, less excited than hisfriends.

  "They belong to the nomadic tribes which originally occupied India, andare among the worst wretches in the world. They are brigands androbbers, who are to be dreaded at all times. Now, if the revolt hasbroken out, they will be as merciless as tigers."

  "It looks as if they intended to make us a visit, doctor?"

  "Alas! there can be no earthly doubt of it."

  "Let us hurry into the jungle," said Mary, her face paling with fear."We have not a minute to waste."

  "The advice is good, but before acting on it I should like to make anexperiment."

  During this brief interval Jack Everson had carefully examined hisrifle to assure himself that it was in good condition.

  "Heavens, man!" exclaimed Dr. Marlowe, "you are not going to try a shotat them?"

  "That is my intention."

  "They are a mile distant!"

  "One of my medals was won for hitting a target at exactly thatdistance," replied Jack, continuing his preparations.

  "It is impossible that you should succeed."

  "But not impossible that I should try, so please don't bother the manat the wheel."

  "They have ridden into the water," added the young woman, still nervousand excited.

  "Which will serve to shorten the distance somewhat."

  "Why not wait until they are halfway across; or, better still, not waitat all?" inquired the doctor.

  Jack Everson made no reply, but, lying down on his back, he slightlyseparated his raised knees, and, by crossing his ankles, made a restfor the barrel of his rifle. The left arm was crooked under his head,so as to serve as a pillow or support, leaving the hand to steady thestock of his gun, while the right inclosed the trigger guard.

  The horsemen, instead of riding side by side, were strung along in aline, with the leader several paces in advance and mounted on a ratherlarge horse of a coal-black color. Directly behind him came one upon abay, while a little further back rode another on a white steed. Therecould be no question that they were on their way to kill without mercy.

  The situation was intensely trying to father and daughter. The wholeparty of Ghoojurs had entered the Ganges and were steadily approaching.The water was so shallow that it could be seen as it splashed about thebodies of the riders, who were talking and laughing, as if inanticipation of the enjoyment awaiting them. They preserved theirsingle file, like so many American Indians in crossing a stream, andtheir last thought must have been of any possible danger that couldthreaten them from the three on the further bank.

  The situation was becoming unbearable when the rifle cracked with anoise no louder than a Chinese cracker, and a faint puff of smokecurled upward from the muzzle of the weapon. At the same moment theGhoojur at the front, on his black horse, flung up his arms and tumbledsideways into the water, which splashed over his animal's head.Frightened, the horse reared, pawed the air, and, whirling about,galloped back to the bank, sending the water flying in showers from hishoofs.

  "Score me a bull's-eye!" called Jack Everson, who in his pleasure overhis success, could not wait for the result.

  "But see!" cried Mary, "you have only infuriated them. Oh! father, howcan we save ourselves?"