They ran across to the other side of the pah, and repeated their previous act of defence with equally good result; while the defenders, who had seemed to be flagging, yelled with delight at the two young Englishmen, and began fighting with renewed vigour.
“Load away, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem; “make your ramrod hop. Never mind the pistol kicking; it kicks much harder with the other end. Four men down. What would my Sally say?”
“Hi! Quick, my lads!” shouted Tomati; and as Don looked up he saw the tattooed Englishman, who looked a very savage now, pointing with his spear at one corner of the place.
Don nodded, and ran with Jem in the required direction, finishing the loading as they went.
It was none too soon, for three of the enemy were on the top of the fence, and, spear in hand, were about to drop down among the defenders.
Bang! Went Jem’s pistol, and one of the savages fell back.
Bang! Don’s shot followed, and the man at whom he aimed fell too, but right among the spears of the defenders; while the third leaped into the pah, and the next moment lay transfixed by half-a-dozen weapons.
“I don’t like this, Jem,” muttered Don, as he loaded again.
“More don’t I, my lad; but it’s shoot them or spear us; so load away.”
Jem words were so much to the point, that they swept away Don’s compunction, and they hastily reloaded.