“No, I don't think I am hit; if I am, it is on the head. I feel something warm round the back of my neck.”
“By Jove, yes!” Wilson said; “here is where it is; there is a cut all along the top of your head; the bullet seems to have hit you at the back, and gone right along over the top. It can't have gone in, or else you would not be able to talk.”
“Help me up,” Bathurst said, and he was soon on his feet. He felt giddy and confused. “Who have you with you?” he asked.
“Two natives. I think one is the young chief, and the other is one of his followers.”
Bathurst spoke to them in their native language, and found that Wilson was not mistaken. As soon as he found that he was understood, the young chief poured out a volley of curses upon those who had attacked them.
Bathurst stopped him. “We shall have time for that afterwards, Murad,” he said; “the first thing is to see what had best be done. What has happened since I landed, Wilson?”
“Our boat was pretty nearly cut in two,” Wilson said, “and was sinking when I jumped over; the other boat has been rowed ashore.”
“What did you hear, Wilson?”
“I heard the women scream,” Wilson said reluctantly, “and five or six shots were fired. There has been no sound since then.”
Bathurst stood silent for a minute.