CHAPTER XXIV.—IN THE NICK OF TIME.
The surprise had been cleverly executed. Another moment, and Jack and his black attendants would have been surrounded. As it was, the odds were dead against them.
The unexpected appearance of the schooner had evidently wrought a complete change in the tactics of the enemy. So here they were.
This sleek, corpulent native who led the escaladers was none other than old Salambo!
Salambo, the shark-charmer, thief, and director-in-chief of the harassing attacks by which they, the party of adventurers in search of what was indisputably their own, had been baffled at every turn.
By means of the lascar's murderous hand he had clutched at the captain's throat and taken the captain's life. And now that his tool was for ever wrenched from his grasp, he had come in person to add the finishing-stroke to his evil work. Jack's blood boiled as he thought of it. One swift glance around, and his course was taken.
“The temple, Spottie! Point for the temple, Pug!”
The natives, perceiving their intention, swerved aside and attempted to cut them off. But so unexpected was Jack's manouvre, so prompt the obedience of Spottie and Puggles, that the attempt proved unsuccessful. A wild, breathless dash, and they had turned the corner of the temple—whose door, as usual, faced east—and crossed its threshold.