But what a world of meaning there was in the word, as with a hiss of rage the boy thrust his piece from the loophole and sent two heavy charges of shot right into the midst of a crowd of blacks who were coming up to the house carrying fire-sticks and brushwood, with which they ran round and piled it up against the angle formed by the kitchen where it projected at the back. There was a tremendous yelling as the boy fired, and two men fell, while others ran about shrieking; but the mischief was done, and in a few minutes there was a burst of flame, and a peculiar pungent odour of burning wood began to find its way in and threaten suffocation.
“What’s to be done, father?” whispered Norman, as light began to show through the thin cracks or chinks of the wooden wall.
“I’d say go out and die fighting like men, boys,” said the captain, with a groan; “but there are women. Come, we must not give up,” he added, and going to the loophole nearest to him he set the example of firing with unerring aim, whenever he had the chance, at an enemy.
Uncle Jack followed suit, and in obedience to orders, the boys went on steadily reloading.
But the side of the house was growing hot; the kitchen had caught, the crackling of the dry wood began to increase to a roar, and that side of the house was rapidly growing light as day, when Uncle Jack said in a whisper, which the boys heard: “Ned, lad, it’s very hard for us, but we’ve had our day. Can nothing be done?”
A tremendous triumphant yelling drowned any attempt at speaking on the captain’s part, but as it lulled for a few moments, he said, “Nothing. We have done all we could.”
“Rifle, Tim,” whispered Norman, in horror, “couldn’t we get out by the front and take them down to the scrub? The wretches are all on this side.”
“Impossible, boys,” said the captain, sternly. “Can’t you hear? they are piling wood by the other door.”
Rifle uttered a sobbing groan, and just then there was a flash of light in the front, and a furious burst of shouts as a tongue of flame shot up past the loophole, accompanied by a crackling roar.
“Your hands, boys,” said a deep low voice, that was wonderfully soft and musical just then; “destroy no more life. God bless you all, and forgive me!”