“Oh, nonsense, Mr Morgan,” said the lad.
“It’s quite right,” he said; “and I believe you saved my life too. At all events, you gave the others time to get up and stop them. Without a boat we should have been helpless.”
“Hah! he’d make a capital soldier,” said the major, as he shaded his eyes with his hand. “Now, then, Mr Gregory, can your lads get the gig right up the sands and into the river-bed yonder?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it, then, for one of the praus is coming on so as to be within reach of the shore, and either land men, or try and shatter the gig. Now, I tell you what: we’ll intrench ourselves a bit, and then when they’re near enough, and I’ve got the barrel resting in a fork of one of these trees, if I can’t pick off a few men with a revolver, my name’s not O’Halloran. Now, then, to work.”
The order was given; and as the men ran up the gig, one of the two praus was seen to swing slowly round, and then began to move toward them, with her long sweeps dipping regularly in the calm blue sunlit sea, while at that moment, forgotten till then, Bruff, the dog, came limping over the sand, after a laborious journey on three legs, to lie down uttering a low whine at his master’s feet.