Only the babies were allowed to rest that night; the little sea-captain kept the others working until long after midnight, when a new moon arose. He improved the defences. He had all the provisions and the water-jars carried to the hut which he had made his own headquarters, whilst the two Hardens stood as sentries on either side of the village.
At about two o'clock in the morning, Max, on the eastern side of the village, heard the noise of a loosened stone rolling down the mountain-side. That put him on his guard. And a moment after, another stone bounded into the valley.
At that, he sent back M'Wané to tell Crouch that some one was approaching, and remained at his post alone.
There is nothing more majestic in the whole range of Nature than moonlight in the mountains. The white mists drift in the valleys; and, here and there, the great, ragged peaks blot out the stars. Midnight is ever silent in the higher altitudes. The slightest sound--the hoot of an owl or the bubbling of a spring--is magnified by echo, and carried far upon the breeze.
Max, with his rifle at the ready, waited with his heart thumping against his ribs. He heard a noise, quite near to him, but so faint that he could never have heard it had not every sense been on the alert. He saw something white, moving like a ghost in the moonlight. Then, a loud shout was uplifted in the stillness. "Allah Akbar! Strike for God and the Prophet!"
Three white figures rushed in upon him from the darkness. He fired, and one went down. And then, reversing his rifle, he used it as a club, swinging the butt around him in a kind of mad delight.
The two men who remained pressed him close. He saw knives flash in their hands. And then a third figure appeared, and a revolver spat like a cat. Cæsar himself was there.
The Portuguese called back the two Arabs, spoke a few words which Max was not able to hear; and then all three abreast endeavoured to rush the wall. Max fired, but missed. He was attacked from three sides at once, and must have been overpowered had not Crouch hastened to his rescue.
It was no more than a scuffle at the best. Crouch emptied his revolver; but it was too dark to shoot straight. Max used his fist, and sent one of the men rolling backwards; whilst Crouch flew like a leopard at Cæsar's throat. It was all over in an instant. Cæsar and his men drew off as suddenly and quickly as they came, taking with them the Arab whom Max had wounded or killed.
Crouch took out his pipe and filled it.