CHAPTER XXI

THE DEFENSE OF THE CAVE

We turned. Before us stood a man so small that he might be taken for a dwarf. His head was so large that it was remarkable, and the way it rolled from side to side caused me a certain uneasiness. His eyes were the size of two peas, but they twinkled with a kind of knowing wisdom that continually forced you to look away and in the next moment to return and gaze at him again. A smile covered his mouth, but it was a smile that never changed. You could not tell whether it came from amusement or whether mockery lay behind it. We had hardly caught our breath when he shifted over to us. It was then that I noticed for the first time that his legs were bent in an arch like a bow. They seemed very thin, scarcely able to support the weight of his thick body.

He took off his cap and drew his head in between his shoulders like a turtle.

“I have been on the look-out for you the last three days,” he said. “Where have you been?”

I said not a word but glanced at Charles.

“Who are you?” he gasped, “—friend or enemy?”

“I am the Dwarf of Angers,” was the reply. He hesitated. The smile broadened into a wicked grin. “If I were your enemy,” he went on, “you would have been dead long before this.”

“You say you have been expecting us——,” I began, but he broke in and interrupted me.

“You are a friend of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said in the most matter of fact way. “He heard that you were threatened with danger. I came to see you through.”

I drew back in surprise. My first impulse was to tell him that I had never seen the Abbot of Chalonnes in my life. On second thought, I decided to let him believe as he would.

“We are surrounded by at least a score of men,” I said with some caution. “They are French—followers of a man by the name of De Marsac. The three of us can hardly make a stand against them. They are too many.”

A little cackle of laughter broke from him. He went to the corner of the room where a basket stood. He took from it an apple that was as large as your fist. He stretched out his hand and laid the apple between the middle finger and the forefinger. He extended his arm to full length and slowly drew his fingers together. There came a crushing sound. Then with as much force as if it were struck by a hammer the apple flew apart. One half of it shot over against the wall and the other dropped a little distance from his feet.

My mouth opened in amazement. Such a feat of strength I never believed possible.

“There has never lived a man with hands and arms like these,” he said. “Nature gave me a misshapen body. But she made up for it in another way.” He jumped back and turned to the wall. With a leap as quick as lightning he came towards us, turning one somersault after the other. Not once did his hands touch the floor nor, when he came to a halt, did he draw a single breath that gave a sign of fatigue.

“I can draw a bow that would drive an archer to despair,” he explained. “I never weary. I can go on and on till they drop. I am all hands and arms.” He stopped and looked up at us. The same smile covered his face, only now he opened his lips far enough to show us a line of ugly twisted teeth.

“Can you shoot?” he then demanded with a sudden burst.

“A little,” we stammered, “—but not like you, I am sure.”

He cackled again.

“A little is enough,” he said. “Come!” He spun on his heel and went over to where we had first seen the bows suspended on the wall. “Take this,” he said to Charles. “—and you take this. There’ll be a merry time in the woods before the setting of the sun.”

With that he handed each of us a bow and a quiver of finely made arrows. As though he were the leader of an army, he marched proudly to the door. He swung it open and with a bow stood like a soldier at attention till we filed out.

We were once more among the rocks and stones—and the trees of the forest. It was light, but the rays of the sun shone only here and there in long threads where the breeze for a time drove the branches apart.

We went on stealthily. We kept our bodies low so that if a chance shot were fired at us, it might pass over our heads. I got as far as the row of boulders that, I have said, was like an irregular stone wall. I was on the verge of straightening myself to look further into the woods when an arrow sang past me and struck with a click against the cave.

In the next moment a shriek echoed through the woods. Far off in the shadows of the trees I saw, faintly, of course, a man throw his arms into the air and pitch forward on his face. Before I could recover from my astonishment another ran to lift him to his feet. He had hardly stooped when a shaft easily a yard long pierced his side and he, too, fell forward over his companion.

For a second I was set wondering. I looked around to see if the Dwarf was at our backs. He was nowhere to be seen. Then I was certain that he had gone out among the trees. It was he who had shot the men who were lying there on the ground. I heard a branch over my head crack and saw it bend. A form twisted itself around and dropped quickly to the earth. Before I could wink, the Dwarf was standing between us with the grin stretching from ear to ear. His face was glowing with excitement.

“Did you see them fall?” he cried, and took me by the coat. “Could an archer have reached them at that distance?”

“I never thought that an arrow could carry so far,” said Charles.

The Dwarf bent over and clapped himself on the knee.

“—and neither it did!” he exclaimed. “The arrows I shot didn’t travel a hundred feet. I was up there in the trees—almost over their heads. I shot down upon them. These arms did that—these strong arms of mine!”

I understood.

“You mean that you climbed from one tree to the other?” I asked. “You worked your way from branch to——?”

For an answer he reached up and took hold of the branch from which he had just dropped. He lowered his body as far as he could. Then with a spring as light as a monkey’s he shot into the air. He twisted his small legs, curling them with the suppleness of a snake. His body swung forward. He took another hold. He swung forward again. There was no strain nor gasping for breath. With a litheness that I had never judged possible he squirmed and swung himself, till in a short time he had completely disappeared among the trees.

I looked at Charles and shook my head. We stood there forgetful of our enemies in utter amazement at the Dwarf’s agility. Then without a warning an arrow came darting through the air and dug its point deep into the ground at our feet.

We jumped back and dodged behind a rock. We held our bows in readiness for an attack, with our eyes dancing anxiously in every direction.

Then came a sharp, cackling laugh from over our heads. The branches swayed and the Dwarf dropped nimbly to the earth. He swung the bow which he held in his hand with a kind of childish pride and said, “I could have killed you both! The one arrow would have done it, for you were standing in a straight line!” He puffed himself out and strutted back and forth. “Nature has given me a crooked body,” he went on, “but I’m worth a dozen perfect men.”

It began to dawn on me that the Dwarf was a bit of a fool. He was deformed, of course, but his imagination had played on him so that he pictured himself as the ugliest man on earth. I saw, too, that he was sensitive to a degree. It was this that caused him to boast about the strength of his arms and hands. His continual dwelling on his marksmanship with the bow was a balance to his shortcomings.

My thoughts were interrupted by a cry from Charles. He grasped me by the shoulder and drew me down behind the wall of stone.

“Look!” he cried. “There are a dozen of them moving through the woods!”

Sure enough. I raised my head a little above the wall. I saw the forms of several men passing from tree to tree. They darted as though they feared to trust themselves in the open.

“I have roused them!” cried the Dwarf. “I have stung them to the quick. They are forming for an attack. They will come forward with a rush.”

He was right. No sooner had he spoken when a dozen arrows sped towards us. Their white feathers were like streaks in the air. We hid behind the wall as near to the earth as we could crouch. Two or three hard clicks against the rock in front of us showed that they had gotten the range. The flight of half a dozen others over our heads was warning enough that they were determined to drive us from our fortress at the cost of their lives.

Charles and I raised our bows and peeped out through a crevice in the rock. Our heads were scarcely above the top line of the wall when three arrows in quick succession whizzed past. One of them came so near that the point of it clipped a tiny piece from the stone and sent it flying into my face.

“Now!” cried the Dwarf. “Hold ready!”

I heard a shout. A score of our enemies rushed out from behind the trees. They raised their bows. The arrows came as thick as hail. Another shout and the men strung their bows and shot again. It was now or never. The three of us raised ourselves each on one knee. I cannot speak for the others. As for myself I singled out a fellow who was darting forward from one tree to seek the cover of the next. My arrow caught him in the shoulder between the arm and the neck. His bow dropped from his grasp. As well as I could see, an expression of intense pain crossed his features. He clapped his hand to the wound and reeled back to the tree from which he had just come.

Charles must have hit his man, and even with more accuracy than I hit mine. I saw a fellow spin around like a top and fall staggering to the earth a little to the left. In the turning of my head I caught the flash of hatred on the Dwarf’s face. The bow he carried was of unusual size and the string of great strength. The missile went so fast I could not even see its passage in the air. But the twang had hardly reached my ear when the arrow pierced the neck of an enemy as he was running past a tree. It stopped him in full career. It pierced him through and through, and fastened him to the trunk as firmly as if he were tied with a taut rope.

In the next breath we were down again. A flight of arrows clattered against the stone face of our fortress or passed close over our heads. The enemy must have been filled with bitterness that so many of them had fallen while they had not been able to touch one of us. They paused for a space to form again. This time they came on, not scattered as before, but rather in groups. The first of them shot their arrows and dropped to the ground. Those behind sent their missiles at us just at the moment when they expected we would raise our heads above the wall.

They were coming in. There was no doubt of that. And so close on the heels of each other did their arrows fly that we were unable to look out long enough to take a good aim, for on the second try I shot wide of the mark and in ducking back an arrow almost ended my life, for it grazed the top of my head and cut into my scalp far enough to draw a few drops of blood.

I began to fear for our safety. I knew the kind of enemy we had before us. If they could lay hands upon us they would tear us limb from limb. If we were to get out of our difficulty, it would be only by the death of them all. But how it was to come about was more than I could guess, for their numbers far surpassed ours. Even if we were to make off, there were more and more of them about us in the woods.

I took the risk once more and raised my head above the wall. At the same time I took a shot at a fellow who was half hidden by a tree. It was as good as a miss, for the arrow only grazed his arm and tore a piece of the cloth of the sleeve of his coat. But he let out a roar that echoed to my ears. As though I had destroyed something of the greatest value, he threw all caution to the side. He strung his bow and shot an arrow at me with such force that it struck the rock and shivered into a thousand pieces. Then with the same running motion he came on. He zig-zagged from one tree to the other. He fumbled with his bow, but in his madness could not steady himself long enough to string it. When he was within fifty feet of our wall, he cast it to the ground in anger. He fumbled for a moment at his belt. He drew out a dagger and raised it on high as though he would sweep us all to death with the very fury of his attack.

Both Charles and I (the Dwarf was far to one side) saw him advancing. At the same time we raised ourselves to shoot him down before he reached the wall. But we had no sooner showed the tops of our heads when a rain of arrows forced us to drop back again. In the next second the fellow was bellowing like a wild bull. With one leap he had a footing on the wall. Another, he had sprung over it and bounded into our midst.

It was a situation that we had not foreseen. In a certain sense he was as safe as he would have been if he had remained among the trees. We knew that if we rose to grapple with him we were as good as dead, for the men without were on their guard. They were protecting him with their eyes alert and their bows strung to kill the first of us who would be so forgetful as to raise his head or shoulders in a line with their arrows.

The fellow flew at me like a fury. He caught me by the arm and spun me around. I slid away from him and rolled over two or three times on the ground. Charles lowered his body and made a flying leap. He struck him in the middle of the back and sent him sprawling on his face.

I got to my hands and knees, poising myself on the balls of my feet ready to move in case he came at me again. He rose. His countenance was black with anger. The hand that held the dagger quivered with the wrath that was boiling in him. He stood straight up and glared at me as though his very looks would kill.

The Dwarf was edging over towards us, shuffling with his body low to the earth. His face was covered with the same smile that I had noticed when I first saw him. The fellow had one foot ahead of the other ready to move. The Dwarf made one leap—a long, low horizontal leap. He fastened the fingers of his powerful hands in the calves of my attacker’s legs. He sunk his nails into the flesh with a grip like the claws of a wild animal that is desperate. I heard him snarl and gnash his teeth. The fellow tried to kick him away. He might as well have struggled against the grip of an iron trap. The Dwarf gathered his strength into his shoulders. He took in a deep breath. With a twist he jerked his victim’s legs to the one side. The fellow came down with the swiftness with which you would snap a whip. His head struck a stone and that so loudly that I heard the crack of it. He gave a groan. His arms fell limp to his sides and he rolled over with his eyes glazed on his back.

I breathed a sigh of relief. That I had been near death I fully realized. But I had no time to reflect, for an arrow came darting over our heads and sang its way beyond us into the forest. I sprang to the wall, for I surely thought that the enemy suspected that their companion was captured or injured and would make an attempt to save him.

But here the Dwarf surprised us again. With the litheness of a cat he picked the fallen man in his arms. He stood straight up holding him face towards the foe. He advanced step by step until he came to the edge of our defenses. Then he raised the man like a bundle in his arms. By this the lower part of his body was exposed. I trembled for a moment for I was certain that it was a vulnerable spot for an arrow.

My guess was right. An arrow came speeding at him. Its aim was as true as ever an aim was. The Dwarf’s eye was keen. In a twinkling he lowered the man so that his legs dragged on the ground. The arrow found its mark. It struck the fellow clean in the chest. So great was the force of it that the Dwarf staggered back a step to keep his footing. Then he let out a screech—a horrible sound that came from his throat and echoed in and out among the trees. With a heave as powerful as three strong men he raised the body of the dead man over his head and cast it far out over the wall. It turned and rolled. The arrow twisted under its side and it came to a stop at the foot of a tree.

“Come and get him!” the Dwarf cried. “You’re a fine lot who kill your own men!”

We were answered. As many arrows as a bird had feathers came shooting towards us. On the heels of them the men in the woods ran from their shelter, stringing fresh arrows as they came. The Dwarf began to bounce about like a toad. His hands moved twice as fast as ours. Before I had my bow to my shoulder he had brought a man down. The more excited he grew, the deeper his voice resounded in his throat and the more unearthly his screeches became. There was a savage instinct in him that led me to think he was hardly human.

The first of our assailants got as far as the wall. The Dwarf struck him over the heart and sent him tumbling back. A second followed. Charles made short work of him. Then there came three of them together. They had a daring recklessness in their eyes that told us they had made their calculations and would risk all to rout us from our wall. In their bravado they called to their companions in the rear to have no fear, that this assault would be the last, that they were going to make an end of us.

The Dwarf called to us to hold steady. He sent the foremost of them kicking to the ground. I took the second, while Charles, whose aim was true, dropped the third not a dozen feet from where we crouched. But that was not the end. The others had been roused to a feeling of desperation by our stubbornness. They kept on running. They shot their arrows one after the other so that it was a risk for any of us to show his head above the line of rocks.

The Dwarf gave another screech. Without a word to us he swung himself into the branches of the nearest tree and disappeared from sight. We were left alone, Charles and I, to make what we could of the attack. The first two were easy enough. The third limped away, wounded in the leg. The fourth (it was I who tried the shot) was only grazed along the wrist.

Then we were in for it. Three of our enemies got as far as the wall. The two foremost jumped over and made for us. The third fell as limp as a rag where he had been shot by the Dwarf in the back. I thought we were done for. To avoid a struggle hand to hand I ran with my body lowered to the far corner of our defenses. Charles moved more slowly in the opposite direction. Our separation had this advantage, the men could not pounce upon us two at a time and so singly overcome us.

My fellow had cast his bow away. With his fingers outstretched like the talons of a bird he ran at me and grasped me by the arm. I tore myself loose and sprang still farther away. I saw an advantage and with bent body made a running dive at his legs with about the same motion with which you would dive into deep water. My shoulders struck him on the shins. I fell to the earth, of course, but he fell with me. And in the fall he struck his elbow a sharp crack on the edge of a stone that made him wince with pain.

My mind was running in a hurry. I had no time to think of anything but a safe way out of my predicament. But yet, withal, it occurred to me that there were no more men vaulting over our defenses. I was sure that the Dwarf was guarding us with his arrows in the trees.

I grew strong with a kind of hope. My fellow was gathering himself for a fresh lunge. We were both on our feet. I waited until he came forward. His lips drew back in a snarl. Then of a sudden he caught me by the sleeve of my coat and dragged me towards him. I swung around on the one side as far as I could. Then I gathered my hand into a fist. With a swing that, I am sure, he did not expect I wheeled about and caught him a stunning blow on the jaw.

He was hurt and not a little dazed. With a jerk I tore his grasp from my coat. Then his face filled with fury. The blood shot into his eyes and he gave me a look that had murder in it.

He saw that I was not to be caught, for I was quicker and more lithe than he. As though he was groping for a missile he looked searchingly around on the ground. He picked up a stone that was as large as my head and smiled at me as though to tell me that I was facing my doom.

I stepped back, so that by chance I might dodge the stone if he happened to have a good aim. He raised his arm. He placed one foot before the other and measured me with his eye. But the stone, to my amazement, never was thrown. The man stiffened up with a jerk. His face twisted in intense pain. With a look on his face that I shall not soon forget, he tottered forward and fell at my feet. In another second he was dead with one of the Dwarf’s arrows sticking in his back, swaying and moving like a warning sign.

I was shaking. My nerves were jumping like the cords of a whip. I gave a glance at Charles and saw him struggling with his man on the ground. The two were wrestling, with the one grasping the other’s wrist. As they rolled over a dagger shot into the air and fell at Charles’ side. He reached out and took it by the hasp. Then he bounded quickly to his feet. His face was hot and covered with dirt where he had been rolling in the earth. He made a jump towards his enemy with the dagger raised above his head.

But fright won the victory. The fellow no sooner saw that Charles had the upper hand when he leaped far to the one side. He never stopped but kept on ahead. With a spring he bounded over our wall, and as fast as ever a man ran he made for the shelter of the trees.

That much was over, thanks to the Dwarf. The two of us lowered our bodies again lest an arrow take us unawares. I risked a peep out through one of the crevices. I had every thought that another band of assailants would be on us to take vengeance for the damage we had done their companions. To my surprise the woods were as still for a time as a peaceful countryside. Then, after a little, far off, I heard the screech of the Dwarf coming to us like an echo through the trees. When it died away a silence fell over us once more. I was beginning to count the victory ours, for I was sure that the Dwarf with his arrows, his terrible arms and hands had done their work. Single-handed he had driven our enemies from the neighborhood.

The sun was casting slanting rays out of the west. A new thought rose in my mind. The night would be dark, for there was no space for the shining of the stars through the matted branches of the trees. We would stand guard, of course, ready to ward off an attack. But in case our enemies returned it would be difficult to see them as clearly as we had done during the afternoon. They could storm our little stronghold. By sheer numbers they could overwhelm us. Before we could raise a bow in our defense they could slaughter us where we cowered behind our stone-wall.

This thought grew stronger in my mind as the darkness came on. I spoke to Charles, who only nodded his head.

“If they come,” he said, after turning the matter over, “we must leave. The woods will be safer than it is here.”

To this we agreed. We kept our eyes on the alert, searching in every direction for a foe. The sun had dropped behind the horizon and the shadows of night were stretching themselves like black sheets on every side of us. The woods were silent and mysterious. Not a sound came to our ears except the twittering of a bird or two as he settled in his nest. The shrieking of the Dwarf had long since stopped.

“We must wait till he returns,” said Charles. “We cannot go without a word from him. He will——”

We both jumped to our feet. There was a rustling of the branches over our heads. The Dwarf dropped lightly to the ground and stood facing us in the gathering gloom. His mouth was spread open in a wide grin that showed his big pointed teeth.

“There’s no fear, now,” he said. “I’ve scattered them. Come into my cave. We must eat.”

He led the way. The fire had gone out. He relit it with a piece of tinder and dry wood. When the blaze had started up he drew from out the folds of his shirt a dagger and cast it at my feet. It was the dagger which I had from the scrivener, the one which I was to take to the Abbot of Chalonnes—which I thought I had lost forever in the Loire.

“I found that in the shirt of one of the men I shot down,” he explained. “Take it with you. Guard it better than you have already done. In another hour it will be safe for you to leave. You can keep to the road that leads towards the south. If there is any trouble, show it to the keeper of the inn that stands at the cross-roads. He is a friend of mine.”