It was time, for all at once bright rays flashed from the surface of the little river, and shone upon the rocky walls, as with shout and yell the blacks once more came on, and though shot after shot was fired they still pressed forward, evidently determined to avenge the deaths of so many of their party.
But the burning wood they bore helped the retreating party, and rendered the bearers plain objects for the marksmen, while the deafening roar of echoes after every discharge had its effect, and checked the savages more than seeing one or two of their number drop.
But still they came on, forcing the little party back till the sharp bend was reached, and all passed round into absolute darkness and the fearful roar of the failing waters.
“They’ll never come along here, surely,” said Panton, with his lips to his companion’s ear, as they slowly retreated, backing, hand in hand, and guiding themselves by one passing his foot along the edge of the river’s bank.
It was a vain hope, for lights soon flashed round, and the great cavernous place was more and more lit up, the shadowy black figures darting here and there, and sending an arrow whenever they fancied they could see one of the sailors.
“Our last chance,” shouted Panton, excitedly. “We must stand at bay yonder, on the point, and sell our lives dearly. We’ll wait till they come close up, and then begin sending volleys, half firing while the others reload. What do you say!”
“That is what I thought,” said Oliver, “but would it be possible to go on?”
“What, past the falls? Impossible.”
“It’s that or death,” said Oliver, sternly.—“Yes? What is it?”
“I says, would you like me to show ’em the way now, sir?” yelled Wriggs in his ear, for he had edged up unseen.