“Don’t talk so much, my man,” said the doctor. “Keep your breath for the exertion.”
“Cert’nly, sir. That’s right,” said the man in quick, excited tones. “Won’t say another word, only this. I should like to have just one pop at the chap who shot me, and hit him in the same place. I’m ashamed to see you working so hard, Mr Jack, sir. How far is it down to the boat?”
“About a mile, Ned; but pray do as Doctor Instow says—keep quiet.”
“Right, sir, I will,” replied the man, setting his teeth hard, his drawn face showing the agony he was in; and they went on descending, to be startled by another heavy detonation.
“Another signal,” said the doctor; but the words were hardly out of his lips when there was a fresh report running up the gully, and being multiplied in echoes which gradually died away.
“Those are not signals, Jack,” said the doctor quietly. “It means an attack upon the yacht by the canoes.”
“Oh! and we not there,” cried the lad excitedly.
“Well, the more lucky for us, eh?”
“Doctor Instow!” cried Jack indignantly; “when these men are wanted to help defend the vessel. Pray, pray try and walk faster, Ned.”
“Trying my best, sir, but I’m very shaky. Legs must be a regular pair of cowards, sir, for they won’t hurry a bit. Ah!”