“Oh, no!” they exclaimed, in a breath. “Well, it is very unlucky, and we shall be driven to give them a severe lesson.”
“Well, you have, father,” said Mark. “And it is very easy to drive them away, uncle.”
“Yes,” put in the doctor, “once or twice; but I am afraid we have come to the end of friendly feeling, and this cannot be resumed. There must be no more coming into the camp, Sir James.”
“Certainly not. They must be taught to keep outside, without violence if we can manage it—if not, with.”
During the next few days the blacks kept aloof, and it almost seemed as if they had been too much alarmed by the falling stones to come near.
“Yes,” said the doctor, “they must have thought that we could start the old buildings to crumble about their ears, for they have been too much accustomed to the effects of rifles to be frightened by them so long as nobody falls. And I suppose if later on we are obliged to use small shot, those will only scare them for a time.”
“Yes, it’s a most unfortunate business, and I almost think that we had better go farther afield,” said Sir James.
“And fare worse, father,” said Mark.
“Perhaps,” said his father, smiling. “But there, we will hold out for the present, and see what time brings forth.”
“Perhaps it will be all for the best,” said Mark. “If they had not been checked there’s no knowing what they might have taken next.”