"Yes, give them a chance, boys. Don't crowd," cried one planter.
"Here! We can't see them. Let's have some light," shouted another.
"Where are those servants? Bring out all the lamps!"
"Lamps be hanged! Let's have a decent blaze. We'll have a bonfire."
Several of the younger planters ran to the stable and outhouses and brought piles of straw, old boxes, anything that would burn. Others despatched coolies to the factory near by to fetch wood, broken chests, and other fuel. Several bonfires were made and the flames lit up the scene with a blaze of light.
"Why, you're wounded, Dermot!" exclaimed Payne.
"Oh, no. Just a scratch."
"Yes, he is wounded, but he pretends it's nothing," said Noreen. "Do see if it's anything serious, Mr. Payne."
"I assure you it's nothing," protested the soldier, resisting eager and well-meant attempts to drag him into the house and tend his hurts by force. But attention was diverted when a planter cried:
"Good Heavens! what's this? The elephant's tusk is covered with blood."