“Bravo, my lad! Phew! How my hand bleeds.”
“I’m afraid we shall be beaten, Jem.”
“I’m sure of it, my lad. My right hand, too; I can’t hit with it. Wish we was all going to run away now.”
“Do you, Jem?”
“Ay, that I do; only we couldn’t run away and leave the women and children, even if they are beaten.”
A terrible yelling and shrieking arose at that moment from behind where they stood, and as they turned, it was to see the whole of the defenders, headed by Tomati, making a rush for one portion of the fence where some of the stout poles had given way. A breach had been made, and yelling like furies, the enemy were pouring through in a crowd.