Jem followed his example, and covered the other; while the enemy yelled, and thrust at them with their spears, yelling the more excitedly as it was found impossible to reach them.
“Let me give the word, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem, whose voice shook with excitement. “Mind and don’t miss, dear lad, or they’ll be down upon us. Ready?”
“Yes,” said Don.
“Here goes, then,” cried Jem. “Fire! Stop your vents.”
The two pistols went off simultaneously, and for a few moments the smoke concealed the results. Then there was a tremendous yelling outside, one that was answered from within by the defenders, who seemed to have become inspirited by the shots; for either from fright, or from the effects of the bullets, the two great Maoris who were cutting the lashings were down, and the defenders were once more at the fence, keeping the enemy back.
“Load quickly, Jem,” said Don.
“That’s just what I was a-going to say to you, Mas’ Don.”
“Well done, my lads! That’s good!” cried a hoarse voice; and Tomati was close to them. “Keep that up; but hold your fire till you see them trying to get over, and wherever you see that, run there and give ’em a couple of shots. Ha, ha! Ha, ha!” he roared, as he rushed away to encourage his followers, just as Jem had rammed home his charge, and examined the priming in the pistol pan.
“That’s just what we will do,” said Jem; “only I should like to keep at it while my blood’s warm. If I cool down I can’t fight. Say, Mas’ Don, I hope we didn’t kill those two chaps.”
“I hope they’re wounded, Jem, so that they can’t fight,” replied Don, as he finished his priming. “Quick! They’re getting up yonder.”