They had only time, however, to fire one good volley, when the chief of the invading savages seemed to give orders for his wild warriors to take the bush, even in face of Antonio’s deadly, though desultory fire.
But, see, a dark cloud has suddenly appeared in the rear of the enemy. It is the king and his men, who have emerged from the bush.
Indecision marks the conduct of the invading savages now.
Another war-rocket comes roaring from the boats, another, and still another follows.
One more withering volley is fired from the bush.
Then Antonio, waving his sword aloft, shouts—
“Now, brave boys! Now is our time. Fix bayonets. At them with the steel. Charge!”
They did charge with a true British cheer, and with true British vim.
Those bayonets made terrible havoc in the enemy’s ranks, so did Antonio’s sword, and the revolvers of our young heroes.
Hard would it have gone, however, with Antonio’s men, had not at the most critical moment—for Antonio himself had tripped and fallen, and a hulking savage was kneeling on his breast, shortening his assegai to stab him—the king’s men rushed on to the combat.