The doctor looked up now, and a change seemed to have come over him, for he rose from where he had been seated and took my hand.
“Quite right, my lad,” he said; “one must never say despair. There’s a ledge there higher up where we will place the ammunition. Let’s keep that dry if we can. It may not be touched by the water; even if we have to swim for our lives the guns won’t hurt—that is, if they are not washed away.”
It was as if he had prepared himself for the worst, and was now going to make strenuous efforts to save himself and his friends, after we had taken such precautions as we could about our stores.
Jimmy grinned and helped readily to place the various articles likely to be damaged by water as high as we could on ledges and blocks of stone, though as I did all this it was with the feeling that we were never likely to see the things again.
Still it was like doing one’s duty, and I felt that then, of all times, was the hour for that.
So we worked on, with many a furtive glance at the water, which kept on encroaching till it began to lap the feet of our black companions.
But they did not stir; they remained with their positions unaltered, and still the water advanced, till the highest point of the ledge was covered, and Gyp began whining and paddling about, asking us, as it were, with his intelligent eyes, whether we did not mean to start.
“Hi! Gyp, Gyp!” shouted Jimmy just then; “up along, boy; up along!” and he patted the top of one of the stones that we had used for a breastwork.
The dog leaped up directly, placing himself three feet above the flood, and stood barking loudly.
“Yes, we can stand up there for a while,” said the doctor, “and that will prolong the struggle a bit. Here, come up higher!” he cried, making signs to our black companions, who after a time came unwillingly from their lower position, splashing mournfully through the water, but evidently unwilling even then to disobey their white leader.