“That’s so, messmate,” growled Wriggs, “for black-skins as can’t live in a beautiful country without wantin’ to kill and eat their neighbours, oughtn’t to be ’lowed to live at all, that’s what I says about them. Here, hold tight!”
He set the example by throwing his arms about a young tree, for there was a peculiar rushing sound as the earth quivered and the trees of the forest bent over and seemed as if stricken by some tremendous blast, though all the time there was not a breath of air.
Then they became conscious of a black cloud rising over the forest beyond the clearing, as if the precursor of some fresh eruption.
“I say, Billy,” whispered Smith, “oughtn’t this here to scare them sawages?”
“I should say so,” replied the other; “all I know is that it scares me.”
“Hist—hist!” whispered Drew, as he pointed forward and signed to the others to lie close, for from out of the edge of the forest, about a hundred yards in front, a black head was thrust forth from among the trees.
It was a strange and incongruous sight. Between the hiding party and the black scout of the savages there ran a high wall of dazzling green of many tints, bright flowers hung clustering down, the dazzling sun shone from the vivid blue sky, and every now and then bird and butterfly of effulgent hue flitted before their sight; while there, just beyond this strip of glorious beauty, there was the hideous black grotesque head of the Papuan, evidently scanning the side of the forest back towards where they were hidden.
The next minute he had drawn back, but only to spring out with a shout, brandishing his club, while his cry was taken up by fifty throats, as with a roar the whole band rushed into sight, and dashed down towards where the little party lay.