A chill of despair ran through all as they glanced in the direction pointed out by Smith, for there, coming rapidly round by the edge of the lake, were some fifty of the enemy, who had evidently kept their attention while a part of their force had managed to penetrate the dense forest, to where they could scale the crater wall nearly on the opposite side, and then descend to the lake, so as to come and take them in the rear.
“What shall we do, face both ways and fight?” said Panton.
“Madness!” cried Oliver. “There’s hope for us yet. This way.”
He began to descend rapidly, and then led the party along by the side of the lake, leaping from stone to stone, till he reached the spot where the waters flowed out slowly into the cave.
“In with you, quickly!” he cried; but some of the men hesitated. “Lead the way, Smith, and we’ll cover you. Quick!”
Smith plunged in, and now his messmates followed, and so hardly were they pressed that the foremost blacks came bounding up just as Oliver and Panton backed slowly in, keeping their pieces towards the entrance, and firing twice as some of the enemy began to follow.
These shots and the darkness checked them, and they vented their disappointment by howling with rage, and sending arrow after arrow splintering against the roof or rocky sides, and making the hollows echo dismally.
With a little care, though, sufficient distance was soon placed between the fugitives and their pursuers, while a bend in the passage-like entrance protected them from the arrows, which were deflected as they struck the walls, and after a time these ceased, and all waited for the next development of the attack.
“They will not dare to come in here,” Drew said; “these people are too superstitious to enter such a hole.”
“Not when they have lights,” said Oliver, sadly. “Smith, can you lead the men farther in? You know the way. Forward.”