Then they drew back, Norman closed the door, and began securing it, while Tim ran to the inner room.
“Come and help to fasten this, uncle,” he said quietly.
“Eh? Yes, my boy,” said the captain, following him, and Tim seized his arm.
“Quick!” he whispered, “they’re coming on again in front.”
The captain seized gun and ammunition; Uncle Jack and Sam German were roused from sleep, which was to last till they came on duty to watch; a few imperative words were uttered to the ladies; and once more everyone was at his post, waiting with beating heart for the attack. But it did not come.
An hour had passed, then another, and when the captain whisperingly asked whether the boys were sure, and whether they might not have been deceived, and taken the black shadows of evening or a depression of the ground for an enemy, they began to think that they must have been mistaken. So the captain went to the back to speak to Uncle Jack and Sam German, who were there that night, the latter solacing himself with a pipe of tobacco, which he was smoking while his companion watched.
“A false alarm, I think, Jack,” said the captain. “So much the better.”
“But I don’t mind. It shows how thoroughly the boys are on the Alert,” he was going to whisper, but he did not speak, for at that moment there was a faint rustling overhead; the brothers pressed each other’s hands, and Sam German laid his pipe softly in the chimney, took up his gun, and listened.
The next minute the soft rustle continued, and a noise as of someone in pain was heard, while the listeners in the darkness knew perfectly that a black had lowered himself and stood barefooted upon the sharp spikes.
Another attempt was made and another. The blacks, being emboldened by the perfect silence within, tried a fresh plan, which consisted in lowering down a heavy piece of wood, and began to batter the new protection. But a couple of shots fired up the chimney had the customary result, and there was silence once more.