“Don’t expose an arm, though, Hans,” said Victor; “for it is death even to be scratched by one of their arrows.”
“I will be careful,” replied Hans, as he fitted an arrow to the bowstring, and crouching below the rocks they had piled up as a breastwork, drew the bow and discharged the arrow. The little reed flew on, and fell at the side of the tree near which one of the Bushmen was crouching. The little man saw the arrow fall, though he knew not who had discharged it, and, with an eagerness to possess himself of the weapon which quite overcame his caution, he sprang from behind the tree and grasped the arrow which he at once saw amidst the dry leaves and grass. Victor, who was watching the result of this, saw the act of the Bushman, and instantly lowering his gun, he discharged a bullet at him. True to its direction, the bullet struck the Bushman on the shoulder, and passing through his arm, rendered him incapable of again using his bow. The wounded man had not much compassion from his captors; for the Matabili, seeing he could no longer be of service of them, and having a natural hatred of Bushmen, instantly despatched him with their spears, intimating to the remaining Bushman that unless he succeeded in shooting the white men, he would soon meet the same fate as his companion.
Scarcely had the two men taken their eyes off the tree behind which the Bushman had been killed, when Katrine’s voice and words caused them to look on the plain to the eastward of their position.
“Hans, Hans!” she called, “look what is coming: there are more Matabili. Are there not two hundred more at least coming to help those who are now here? What can we do?”
Hans and Victor looked towards the east, and there saw a large body of Matabili coming rapidly over the plains, and evidently directed, by some guide, towards their present position.
“They will be too many for us, Victor, I am afraid; what are we to do now, I wonder?”
“Keep down, Hans! keep down!” said Victor; “see what is in your hat!”
Hans instinctively crouched behind the breastwork, and taking off his hat, saw in the crown a Bushman’s arrow.
“There’s another struck the rock behind us; we must shoot this fellow any how, he is savage now that his brother is killed. There he is, Victor, in that fork of the tree, the rascal, he may hit us from there; but here goes for two ounces of lead in him.” The loud report of Hans’ gun was followed by the dull sound of the Bushman’s body falling to the ground, he being dead before he reached it. From the plain, however, a savage vengeful yell answered the report of the gun, and the additional party of Matabili rushed onwards, their shouts being responded to by their companions around Hans’ stronghold.