Mr. Blount fell dead, and Dick Caister's shoulder was broken by a bullet; but there was no check, as the colonists poured into the huts. There was a short sharp fight, but in two minutes it was over. Three of the gang had been shot, as they leapt from the windows. Four more lay dead, or dying, in the huts.
One of them had thrown down his arms, and shouted for mercy. He had been knocked down and stunned, by the butt end of a rifle; but was otherwise unwounded.
Short as was the fight, it had given time to the blacks to rally. Their shouts were ringing in the air, and the spears were flying thickly as the party, having finished their work, rushed outside again, to assist the constables who were guarding the horses.
"Pour a volley into the bushes," Reuben shouted; "then mount, and charge them."
The order was executed and, in a minute, the horsemen were dashing hither and thither among the bushes, shooting down with their pistols the blacks who resisted, or dealing tremendous blows among them with their hunting whips. The charge was irresistible, and in five minutes the main body of the blacks were flying, at full speed, up the steep hillsides.
The victors soon gathered round the huts. Several men and horses had been wounded with spears, but none of the injuries were of a serious character.
"Well, how about the prisoners?" Reuben asked the sergeant, who had arrived before him.
"There's only one prisoner, sir. All the rest are accounted for."
"Is it their captain?"
"I don't know, sir. I have never set eyes on him; but if he's a young chap, as they say, it ain't him."