All the fearful passions of these savages were soon let loose. The scene was like pandemonium.
The poor Jesuits hid themselves in their little church, barricading the door, and devoting the first part of the night to prayer and song. But at midnight the awful howling of the cannibals coming nearer and nearer told them that they had been missed, and that their doom was now sealed.
Only one man escaped to tell the terrible tale.
And these, or rather their descendants, were the very cannibals that Roland's little army had now to do battle with.
Both he and Dick, however, kept up a good heart.
There was ammunition enough to last for months of desultory firing, if necessary, and when the attack was made at last, after Bill's scouts had been driven in, the savages learned a lesson they were never likely to forget.
Brave indeed they were, and over and over again they charged, spear in hand, almost into the trenches. But only to be thrust back wounded, or to die where they stood, beneath a steady revolver fire.
But they retreated almost as quickly as they had come, and once more sought the shelter of bush and jungle.
Not for very long, however. They were evidently determined that the little garrison should enjoy no peace.
They had changed their tactics now, and instead of making wild rushes towards the ramparts, they commenced to bombard the fort with large stones.