Ferrier leant over, grasped him, and hauled him by main force into the canoe. Then the four sturdy natives dug their paddles into the water. The enemy had reached the brink; some were already on the causeway; but at this moment four rifles flashed from the fort, and a man toppled off the causeway into the pool. The others halted. The canoe sped on; a bullet splashed in its wake; more arrows fell perilously near; but just as the enemy had gained courage to rush over the causeway again, Ferrier steered the canoe away from that side and guided it round to the lower end of the island where landing was easier. The canoe scraped the shore: its occupants sprang to land: and with Ferrier's aid the negroes carried John up to the wall, where willing hands hoisted him over.
"A near shave, old chap," said Ferrier. "You look awfully done up."
"Pretty nearly crocked," said John, with a feeble smile. "Are those beggars attacking?"
"No," replied Ferrier, looking over the wall. "They've gone back. It's not light enough yet."
"Thank goodness! I'm no good at present; I'm----"
"Don't you worry," interrupted Ferrier, seeing his lips quivering. "Just lie easy for a bit: I'll bring you something to eat."
John closed his eyes and shivered in his drenched clothes. Ferrier got two of the men to carry him to the fire, and in a few moments gave him a mug of soup.
"You'll feel better after that: hippo soup, my boy."
"They got back safely then?"
"Of course they did, an hour after sundown. They hid in the woods yonder until the coast was clear. I gave them a good ragging for leaving you."