Ralph drank the water, and soon fell into a calmer, more refreshing, slumber.
Kirke went to examine his store of ammunition, and became graver than ever, for he found that it was running extremely short. There was no method by which he might replenish his powder; but the dacoits, with the whole country behind them, could get practically inexhaustible supplies.
Kirke heaved a sigh, and sat down once more by the sleeping boy.
It was growing dark, but the council still argued and disputed at a little distance from the circle entrenched, and words were running high among its members.
All at once a shot was heard, and a bullet tore its way from the gloom of the trees, crashed through Kirke's stockade, and buried itself in the ground.
"Ameh!" shrieked the women, springing to the farthest corners.
The men leapt from their haunches, upon which they were crouching, and jumped over into the circle, glad enough now of the protection afforded them by Kirke's foresight, and once more willing to accept his gallant leadership.
Whiz!—ping!—went a second shot; followed by a third—a fourth. Kirke caught up his gun, and blazed back a return fire, aimed in the direction from which the assault came. "But," thought he, "this is of little avail, for we cannot take aim at the wretches, whereas the blaze of our lamps makes us so many marks to them."
But the firm resistance offered had an effect; the dacoits' shots lessened, then ceased. What did this mean? They must have some new scheme on foot.