She had received a stinging blow—one that was evidently aimed from a catapult—on her hand.
"Jim," she cried, "Hal is in the fort. Hurrah, hurrah! We are going to have a fight after all!"
Here another bullet, not so well aimed as the last, whizzed past her, and drove her to seek shelter in the nearest bush.
"Are you better, Hal?" she called. "And do you really want to fight?"
There was no answer to the first question, but a shot that struck her just above the ankle was a sufficient reply to her second; and, quite regardless of the pain, she gave another loud whoop of joy, in which the other three joined.
"We must get back to the camp," Jim cried, "and arm ourselves. This is altogether too one-sided an affair."
Bitterly now did they regret the rashness which had led them to approach in such a confident, careless manner. Yet, at the same time, they could not help admiring the wiliness which the enemy had shown in thus reserving his fire.
His aim was deadly; but, with a generosity that was truly noble, he did not take advantage of the fact that they were without their armour, and refrained from hitting their faces.
Almost every shot found its mark on them, and at last, despairing of being able to wriggle away in good order, they rose to their feet and made a dash into the thicket.
Rushing pell-mell to the camp, they tied their dish-covers over their faces, and, arming themselves with as much ammunition as they could carry, returned to the clearing.