“They must have fetched me an awful crack on the head, sir. Did they hit you too?”
“Yes, my head aches horribly, Ned. Look, there are our guns standing up against the rock with their spears.”
“And bows and arrows too, sir. Ugh! gives me the shivers. Poisoned!”
“Ned, do you think we could get at our guns and make a dash to escape?”
“What, and risk the arrows?”
“Yes. Once we could get amongst the trees we should have as good a chance of getting away as they would of catching us.”
“Don’t know so much about that, sir. They ain’t got no clothes to catch in the thorns and creepers.”
“But you’ll try?”
“Try, sir! I should think I would; only I’d wait till it got dark first.”
“By that time we may not be alive, Ned.”