"FIRE LOW, LADS.... DON'T WASTE A SHOT!"
Three Indians bit the dust at the first volley, and though the rest struggled on to the attack, it was only to be quickly repulsed.
In ten minutes' time all had fled, and the great forest and woodland was as silent as before.
It was Roland's voice that again broke the stillness.
"Rally round, boys," he shouted, "and let me know the worst."
The sacrifice of life, however, was confined to three poor fellows, one white man and two peons; and no one was wounded.
Nobody thought of going to sleep again on this sad night, and when red clouds were at last seen over the green-wooded horizon, heralding the approach of day, a general sense of relief was felt by all in the little camp.
Soon after sunrise breakfast was served, and eaten with avidity by all hands now in camp, for scouts were out, and Dick and Roland awaited the news they would bring with some degree of impatience.
The scouting was really a sort of reconnaisance in force, by picked Indians and whites under the command of the redoubtable Burly Bill.
Suddenly Brawn raised his head and gave vent to an angry "wouff!" and almost at the same time the sound of distant rifle-firing fell on the ears of the little army.