His warning came not a moment too soon.
A shower of missiles, hurled with unerring aim, fell upon the little craft. Disappointed in their quest, the native children were now bent on revenge.
As fast as they could pick them up and throw, rocks went skimming across the water, falling on both sides, and in front and behind the boat. Several dropped aboard.
One, in falling, just skimmed the back of Shirley’s head as she stooped over in the boat. Dick immediately squeezed in behind her, and another, thrown with unerring aim, carried away his hat. Fortunately however, this broke the force of the stone, and it fell to the bottom of the boat without doing any further damage.
The boat was drawing out of danger now, and the occupants sat up again and drew breaths of relief. Only the stronger of the tots could now reach them with their missiles, and the distance was too great for accurate throwing, so those in the boats felt perfectly safe.
Upon the shore the crowd of native boys and girls gave vent to cries of rage at thus being deprived of their revenge. They danced about excitedly and waved their hands in angry gestures.
At this juncture another native officer hove in sight, and the crowd turned on him. Again rocks, stones and other weapons came into play as the children turned upon him to vent their wrath. For a moment the officer seemed on the point of charging into the crowd, then changed his mind, wheeled on his heel and took to flight. The young ones gave chase, their shouts and cries carrying across the water to the occupants of the boat.
“Well!” exclaimed Shirley, now that they were out of harm’s way at last, “they are vicious little things, aren’t they?”
“Rather,” replied the officer dryly. “If a person fell into their hands it would go hard with him.”
“But what makes them so fierce?” asked Mabel, greatly interested.