“Not they; no more than we can them. I say, I have it! These are two slaves trying to escape, and these chaps want to get them back.”
“Then we’ll take them right away to the fort,” cried Tom. “Look out!” he added, as, after speaking to his followers, the chief Malay made another angry advance with the men.
“Now look here, Mr Café-au-lait,” said Bob, raising his gun this time to his shoulder, as he spoke aloud, “if you don’t sheer off, I’ll let fly at you a regular broadside. Be ready, Tom.”
“Ready!” was the sharp reply, “when you say Fire.”
“Right,” replied Bob. “Now then, old check-petticoat, are you going to call off your men?”
For answer the Malay pointed to the two trembling girls, and signed to his men to advance with their spears.
“I’m horribly alarmed, Tom!” cried Bob, “but retreating now is showing the white feather, and we shall be whopped. Now then, don’t fire, but let’s make a dash at them.”
The Malays were only about three yards off, having before retreated five or six, but now they had diminished the distance, when the two lads, with their pieces at their shoulders, stepped boldly forward, with the result that the Malays broke and fled, their leader first; and out of bravado Tom Long fired a shot over their heads to quicken their steps, while Bob burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
“Look here!” he said. “Here’s a game! Only look, sojer!”
“What is it!” cried Tom, drawing out the empty cartridge case and putting in a new one. “Why, you don’t mean to say—”