“No,” said the captain, quietly. “We had better retire to the house. I think we can give them a warm reception there.”
“Shoot! Bang, bang!” cried Shanter, grinning. “Ow—ow—ow!”
He held his bands to his head after dropping his weapons as he yelled, ran round in a circle, staggered, fell, kicked a little, and lay quite still for a few moments as if dead. Then leaping up, he secured his weapons, shook them threateningly at the little grove, and urged all to go up to the house.
“We shall have to trust him,” said the captain. “Come along, Jack.—Now, boys, I’m afraid this is war in earnest, and the siege has begun.”
“Plenty black fellow,” shouted Shanter, excitedly, as he pointed in a fresh direction, where three or four heads were seen for a minute before they disappeared among the trees.
“And no time to be lost,” cried the captain.—“German, while we can, go up and begin filling what tubs you can with water in case the enemy tries to cut off our supply. We will cover you.”
“Right, sir,” said the gardener, and he ran up to the house with his fork over his shoulder, while the others followed more leisurely, keeping a sharp look-out.
“Come along,” cried Shanter, as they reached the house. “Shut fass. Black fellow baal come along. Big white Mary gib mine damper now.”
Five minutes later he was eating some bread with a contented smile on his countenance, while Tim and Norman kept watch, and the others busied themselves closing the shutters and carrying in blocks and slabs of wood, reserved for such an emergency, and now used as barricades for windows and loop-holed doors.
All worked vigorously, provisions were rolled in from the storehouse, though that was so near that its door could be commanded if a fresh supply was required. Fence gates were closed and fastened, the water-supply augmented, and at last the captain turned to the pale-faced women who had been helping with all their strength, and said: