“Always inflict loss upon the enemy when you get a chance,” remarked the Sergeant, as he opened fire with his repeating rifle upon other Fung who by now were clustering upon the back of the idol. This position, however, they soon abandoned as untenable, except one or two of them who remained there, dead or wounded.
A silence followed, in the midst of which I heard Quick saying to Joshua in his very worst Arabic:
“Now does your Royal Highness think that we Gentiles are cowards, although it is true those Fung are as good men as we any day?”
Joshua declined argument, and I turned to watch Oliver, who had covered his face with his hands, and seemed to be weeping.
“What is it, O friend, what is it?” I heard Maqueda say in her gentle voice—a voice full of tears, tears of gratitude I think. “You have done a great deed; you have returned safe; all is well.”
“Nay,” he answered, forgetting her titles in his distress, “all is ill. I have failed, and to-night they throw my brother to the lions. He told me so.”
Maqueda, finding no answer, stretched out her hand to the Mountaineer, his companion in adventure, who kissed it.
“Japhet,” she said, “I am proud of you; your reward is fourfold, and henceforth you are a captain of my Mountaineers.”
“Tell us what happened,” I said to Oliver.
“This,” he answered: “I remembered about your son, and so did Higgs. In fact, he spoke of him first—they seem to have become friends. He said he would not escape without him, and could fetch him in a moment, as he was only just below. Well, he went to do so, and must have found the guard instead, who, I suppose, had heard us talking. You know as much about the rest as I do. To-night, when the full moon is two hours high, there is to be a ceremony of sacrifice, and poor Higgs will be let down into the den of lions. He was writing his will in a note-book when we saw him, as Barung had promised to send it to us.”