"Gee whiz!" Frank whispered. "Why don't you knock a fellow over?"
"What are you trying to do?" demanded Jack.
"Not a thing," was the reply. "Say, but we'll get a nice soak if we remain here."
"You'll get a nice soak on the coco, if you don't stop pulling me around," came back from Jack.
"Then keep your hands off me!" Frank responded.
But in a moment both boys knew that they were not struggling with each other. A brilliant flash of lightning cut the sky, and by its light they saw each other lying on the ground under the window, each with a couple of men in native costume perched on top.
Jack fired, but the pressure on his back was not lessened. Instead, he felt a snaky hand slip down his arm, seize his fingers and twist the gun away.
"Frank!" he called out. "Frank! Shoot at the heathens! I missed, and one of them has my gun."
Frank obeyed the suggestion, and three reports were heard. Jack, though not naturally bloodthirsty, was overjoyed at the sound of a groan which came from the spot where Frank lay.
"Don't try that again, son!"