“If it warn’t for wasting the powder, I tell you what we’d do. Get up a-top yonder where we could lean over the palings, wait till the other chaps comes up, and then shoot over their heads with the pistols. That’d make some of ’em run.”
There was another shout here, for two of the scouts came running in, and every man seized his spear, and darted to the spot he was expected to defend.
“Why, Mas’ Don, how they can run! Look at ’em. An Englishman wouldn’t run like that from a dozen men. Here, let’s chuck these spears away. We sha’n’t want ’em. An Englishman as has got fists don’t want no spears. Look! Look!”
The two scouts had come running in very swiftly till they were about a hundred yards from the gateway of the pah, when they stopped short and faced about as two of the enemy, who were in chase, dashed at them, spear in hand.
Then, to Jem’s astonishment, a sharp passage of arms occurred; the spears clashed together, there was a wonderful display of thrusting and parrying, and the two enemies fell back, and the scouts continued their retreat to the shelter of the fort.
“What do you think of that, Jem?” said Don excitedly. “That was real fighting.”
“Real?” cried Jem; “it was wonderful!” and he spoke huskily. “Why, both those chaps was wounded, and these here’s got it, too.”
The two scouts were both gashed about the arms by their enemies’ spears, but they came bravely in, without making any display, and were received by cheers, Tomati going up to each in turn, and gripping his hand.
Just then the Englishman caught sight of his compatriots, and came across to them quickly.
“Hullo!” he said, with a grim smile, “cleared for action, and guns run out?”