CHAPTER VI. — DESPERATE WORK.
It seemed to be the only course left. Whether it was or not, it was too late to try anything else. That the natives had discovered the explorers was proven by several low, tremulous whistles which at that instant sounded on the night.
It was risky running along the dark trail, even though illuminated here and there by the rays of the moon: but, feeling that the situation was desperate, Ashman broke into a swift lope, with Johnston at his heels, urging him to make haste.
"If they come too close," thought the young man, "we can dodge among the trees again and pick our way back to the river as best we can—helloa! what's that?"
Well might he ask himself the question, for the whizz of something close to his ear left no doubt that one of their pursuers had hurled a poisoned javelin at them.
An instant after he heard a faint but peculiar noise which he could not describe nor identify. Johnston at the same instant uttered a suppressed exclamation, not intended for his ears, and he called out in a recklessly loud voice,
"Into the woods, quick!"
Ashman did not hesitate, but darted to his right, halting after a couple of steps, through fear of betraying himself.
"Where are you?" asked Johnston, speaking more guardedly.
His groping hand touched Ashman, who seized it and silently drew him forward, neither speaking again.