Now in a fight or battle of any kind it is very little any single individual can tell of it. We only knew in the present instance that the order was given to “Charge,” and out we rushed from our fiery den.
Ritchie and Wrexham led, keeping the smoke as a cover as long as they could. Jill and I, shoulder to shoulder, followed. I know little else; I only thought of Jill.
Hitherto, I must own, I had considered that in many ways I was my brother’s superior, and more than once, I fear, I treated him as a child. After his bravery this night, and his coolness in this terrible mêlée, I always looked upon him as a man, and my equal—except, of course, in age.
The savages would have done well had they scattered and poured upon us their clouds of arrows. For some reason or another they did not, but waited our charge by the creek side, all in a mass, and with spears and yells. Savages as a rule put no end of value on their yelling and whooping qualities, and at times, it must be admitted, these war cries are very confusing and startling. We fired one rifle volley into their midst; one or two volleys from the revolver. Then we met and mixed. I cannot tell now, nor could I ever tell, their numbers. They seemed like a huge dark cloud.
“Back to back, Jill!” I cried.
“Hurrah!” shouted my brother. “Back to back, Jack, in good old Cornish fashion! Hurrah!”
And back to back we fought in the midst of those fiends, who went down wherever we charged. Back to back, and wielding with terrible effect two long supple Arab swords we had bought at the Cape.
Back to back, as brothers should in an engagement like this. But for how long I know not. A mist came over my eyes, a strange white smoke-like mist. Then I remembered no more.
But I was lying there by the creek side when I came to, with Jill bending over me. Lying in the moonlight, and not far off, talking to Ritchie, was Peter himself, who came towards us as soon as he heard Jill saying, “Are you better now, brother?”