The hours glided on, and at first every now and then an arrow was shot with bad aim into the natural fortification, but by degrees these were less frequent, and at last the only sign made by the enemy was a little group of men armed with club and spear watching them from the bottom of the slope.
“What do they mean to do?” said Oliver. “Starve us out?”
“Seems like it,” said Panton. “Well, it won’t take long, unless we can live on water. Wonder whether there are any fish below here in the lake?”
“If there are, we have no means of catching them,” said Oliver, sadly. “I’m thinking that our only chance is to assume the aggressive now, and drive them off the island.”
“I’m afraid there would not be many of us left to do the driving, before we had finished,” said Panton.
Boom! Crash!
“Ah, if you would erupt in real earnest, and frighten the black ruffians away, you would be doing some good,” he continued, as the volcano made itself evident.
“Hi, look out!” cried one of the men. “They’re coming on again.” For a sudden movement was visible in the group below them, and they had hardly seized their weapons to bring them to bear, when Smith suddenly uttered another warning shout, as he came back from the edge of the lake to which he had descended for a drink.
“All right, we see them,” cried Oliver.
“No, you don’t, sir!” yelled the sailor. “Look! look yonder.”