“But I just do mean to say it!” cried Bob, stamping about and laughing as he opened the breech of his gun, and drew out two empty cases, to replace with full.
“Not loaded!”
“No,” cried Bob, “That moment, you know, I shot at the snipes, and hadn’t time to load again. Did you ever see such a game, keeping those chaps off with an empty gun? Oh, I say, don’t!”
This last was in consequence of the energetic action taken by the two poor girls, who, seeing themselves now safe, began to demonstrate their gratitude by hysterical cries and sobs, seizing and kissing the lads’ hands, and finally placing their arms round them and kissing their cheeks.
“Oh, this is awful!” cried Tom Long, who was blushing like a girl.
“I shall be compelled to tell my mamma!” said Bob. “There, there, it’s all right. Come, give me your hand, Semiramis, or Cleopatra, or whatever your name is, and let us make haste down to the river before it is too late.”
The girl seemed to understand him, and ceased sobbing as she prepared to continue the flight, the other clinging to Tom Long’s left hand.
“I say, though, let’s have the birds,” said Bob, stooping to pick them up; but the girl snatched them from him, to carry them herself.
“Yes, Tom, old fellow; no doubt about it, they’re slaves. Come along, or we shall be cut off. It’s not polite to let the ladies carry the baggage, but as we are the escort we must be prepared to fight.”
“I say!” cried Tom Long, “do you know the way?”