“Yes, we’re ready,” said Jem.
“Going to fight on our side?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Jem, in a dubious kind of way. “Fighting arn’t much in my line.”
“Not in yours neither, youngster. There, I daresay we shall soon beat them off. You two keep under shelter, and if things go against us, you both get away, and make for the mountain. Go right into that cave, and wait till I join you.”
“But there will not be much fighting, will there—I mean real fighting?” said Jem.
“I don’t know what you mean by real fighting, squire; but I suppose we shall keep on till half of us on both sides are killed and wounded.”
“So bad as that?”
“P’r’aps worse,” said the man grimly. “Here, shake hands young un, in case we don’t have another chance. If you have to run for it, keep along the east coast for about a hundred miles; there’s white men settled down yonder. Good-bye.”
Tomati shook hands heartily, and went off to his righting men, who were excitedly watching the level below the pah, to which part it was expected the enemy would first come.
Don joined them, eager to see how matters were going, and hopeful still, in spite of Tomati’s words, that matters would not assume so serious an aspect; but just then a hand was laid upon his arm.