"Just keep your weather eye open there, Hawkins and Hurst," he sang out cheerily, "while I lay-to here and repair damages. Mr. Alec's hit. Ah! It's not much. He's conscious and says it's nothing. Now, old boy, let's see what has happened. Ah! Gone clean through the fleshy part of the arm and still transfixing the limb. Right! Break it off short and pull the piece out. Now, let's have a look at the head."
He held the end of the broken arrow up and inspected it carefully. It was armed with a piece of pointed metal of a yellowish-green colour.
"Copper," Dick announced. "A little corroded, but I'll swear it ain't poisoned. Anyway, to make sure, I'll suck the wound. That'll make a fellow feel easier."
Without hesitation he slit the sleeve right up above the elbow, using the sharp edge of the arrowhead for the purpose, and exposed the wounds and sucked them both in succession.
"Talk about cannibals," he grinned. "My—Alec, you taste too salt for anything! Feel better? Oh! Feel absolutely fit! Then let's see what's happening?"
Half a dozen arrows had meanwhile crossed the clearing, though but for the single native whom Hawkins declared he had seen, not another had put in an appearance, nor had there been so much as a sound from them. Merely the musical twanging of bows as the arrows were released.
"Put a charge into 'em, sir!" cried Hurst. "Them small shot'll soon clear 'em away. You'll hear the varmints holler."
It seemed to be a reasonable course to take, and at once Dick lifted his gun and sent the contents of two cartridges swishing amongst the trees. Not a cry followed, but the curious twang of bows was not again heard, while no more arrows flew across the clearing.
"Then we'll push on toward the ship. Now, Alec, feel fit for it?"