Then there was a wild struggle, the pistols were useless, and now thoroughly mastered by their lithe antagonists, all the efforts of the last few hours proved to have been in vain, for Mr Braine, Murray, the doctor, Mr Greig, Tim, and the two boys lay bound where they had been dragged out among the bushes, with the ladies seated weeping by them, and only one of the unfortunate party spoke.
It was Tim, who turned to the boys.
“Look at that now,” he said; “I niver had a chance, and I’ve murthered one hand hitting it against the wall.”
“Never mind,” said Ned; “perhaps our time will come.”
“Faix thin, me lad, I’d like to hear it shtrike at wanst.”
Chapter Twenty Seven.
A Bad Return.
It was a dreary tramp down to the naga lying close beside their own, fastened to a tree on the river-bank; but though the two wounded men scowled at them, and even at the doctor who had offered to, and did dress their wounds, the rest of the Malays were respectful and friendly enough, for the Resident and doctor were favourites with them, and they could all recollect acts of kindness. The ladies were helped over difficult parts, and refreshments and water were freely offered to those who had, as the Malays thought, naturally enough tried to escape, while they on their part had received orders to recapture them, and been successful.