With fearful regularity, uplifted
and thrown aside occasionally in defense to avoid a stroke, the ax of
Hilltop fell and there was more and more fine fighting and fine dying. On
either side were men doing scarcely less stark work. Hilltop's two sons,
on either side of him now, as the assailants, crowded by those behind,
pressed closer, fully justified their parentage by what they did, and
Bark was like a young tiger. But the onslaught was too strong. There were
too many against too few. There were loud cries, a sudden impulse and,
though axes rose and fell and more men tumbled backward into the water,
the rock was swept upon and won and the old man stood alone amid his
foes, his sons having been carried backward by the pressure of the mass.
There was sullen battling on the upper level, but there was no fray so
red as that where Hilltop, old as he was, swung his awful ax among the
close crowding throng of enemies about him. Four fell with skulls cleanly
split before a giant of the invaders got behind the gray defender of the
pass. Then an ax came crashing down and old Hilltop pitched forward, dead
before he fell into the cool waters of the pool below.
There was a yell of exultation from the upward-climbing Eastern cave men
as they saw the most dangerous of their immediate enemies go down, but,
before the echoes had come back, the sound was lost in that which came
from the height above them.
Pages:
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286