“I don’t look horribly frightened, do I?”
“No,” I said; “you look cool enough. Why?”
“Because I feel in a horrid stew, just as I did when a lot of the black fellows carried me off. I was a little one then.”
“Were you ever a little one, Jack!” I said wonderingly.
“Why, of course I was—a very little one. You don’t suppose I was born with long legs like a colt, do you? The blacks came one day when father was away, and mother had gone to see after the cow, and after taking all the meal and bacon they went off, one of them tucking me under his arm, and I never made a sound, I was so frightened, for I was sure they were going to eat me. I feel something like I did then; but I say, Joe Carstairs, you’re sure I don’t show it?”
“Sure! Yes,” I said quickly. “If we have to shoot at these savages shall you take aim at them?”
“All depends,” said Jack coolly. “First of all, I shall fire in front of their bows like the man-o’-war’s men do. If that don’t stop ’em I shall fire at their legs, and if that don’t do any good then I shall let ’em have it right full, for it’ll be their own fault. That’s my principle, Joe Carstairs; if a fellow lets me alone I never interfere with him, but if he begins at me I’m nasty. Here, you leave those arrows alone, and—well, what’s the matter with you?”
This was to Gyp, who was whining uneasily as if he scented danger, and wanted to run out.
“Down, Gyp, down!” said his master; and the dog crouched lower, growling, though, now as a fresh arrow flashed in from another part.
The doctor started and raised his gun to take aim at the spot from whence this shot had come, for one of the savages had climbed up and reached a ledge above where we were. In fact this man’s attack made our position ten times more perilous than it was before.