The leader of the Malay party volubly said something to the two English, and then said some angry words to the two girls, who clung more tightly to their protectors, as he caught each by her shoulder.
Bob brought the barrel of his gun down heavily on the Malay’s head, in the same fashion as he had served Yusuf, who was now missing, having suddenly glided away.
The Malay leaped back, tore out his kris, and made at his assailant; but the presented barrels of the two guns kept him back, as they did his companions, who had presented their limbings as their leader drew his kris, while now the girls leaped bravely up, and interposed their bodies between the two youths and the threatened danger.
“That’s very prettily done, my dears,” said Bob; “but you are both of you horribly in the way if we should shoot, and it isn’t the fashion in England. Place aux Messieurs in a case like this. There, you stand behind me.”
He gently placed the girl behind him, keeping his gun the while pointed at the Malays, and Tom Long followed his example.
“Shall we shoot, Bob Roberts?” said the ensign, hoarsely.
“No,” said Bob, whose voice sounded just as hoarse. “Not unless they try to do us mischief. This is the time for a strategical retreat, as they are three to one, and we may at any time be cut off. I say, Tom, I feel in such a horrible state of squirm; don’t you?”
“Never was so frightened in my life,” replied Tom, “but pray don’t show it.”
“Show it?” replied Bob sharply; “hang ’em, no; they should cut me to pieces first. But I say, old fellow, I never thought I was such a coward before.”
“More did I,” replied Tom. “Suppose they understand what we’re saying!”