"I will climb," whispered back Harry. "Hold my spear."
He passed the weapon to the old hunter, and followed Phra right up to the fork, level with the top of the wall; and by that time his comrade had nearly reached the wall, which was a couple of feet below the great bough, when there was a bright flash from a window, the crashing of a bullet through the branches of the tree, and almost simultaneously a loud report.
"Don't fire—don't fire! Friends!" cried Mr. Kenyon; but before the words had passed his lips there was another report.
"Who is it?" came now.
"Kenyon, Cameron, and men to help," cried the doctor.
"How are we to know that? Speak again."
"Up with you, and over!" cried Mr. Kenyon angrily. "We shall have the wretches round here directly. Quick, boys; get on, and drop!"
There was no further opposition; the English was unmistakable, and the two who had been at the window guarding the well-known weak spot, descended from the barricaded window to help the new-comers, welcoming each warmly as he descended.
It was close work though, for, hearing the firing, a party of the watchful enemy was attracted to the spot before all were over, the last man and Sree—who had stayed to see all in safety before he crossed the natural bridge—having to halt and engage in a sort of duel with spears in the darkness, when from their crippled position in the tree, matters would have gone ill with them but for the diversion made by the defenders, who fired a little volley from the window, which held the enemy in check till Sree was safe.
"What an escape!" whispered Harry, as he caught the old hunter's arm when he dropped into the narrow court.