Puggles needed no urging. He was only too well aware of the danger that threatened his master and his own precious self should the fugitives think better of their cowardice and reappear on, the scene. He set to work with a will.
Into hut after hut they forced their way, peering into every nook and corner, and calling upon Jack as loudly as they dared; only to receive for answer the dull echoes of their own shouts. Nowhere was there any sign of Jack. “Had he been already removed?” Don asked himself desperately, as he sped from door to door. It almost seemed so; but while a single hut remained unsearched there was still hope.
Half-a-dozen only were left, when the catastrophe he had all along been dreading actually occurred. The natives came trooping back. To their infinite relief, no doubt, the witch-tiger had vanished, and in its stead appeared two human figures darting from hut to hut. The natives raised a shout of defiance and pressed forward to the attack, catching up as weapons whatever came first to hand.
Crossing the street at a bound, Don joined the black boy, just as the latter emerged from the doorway of a hut, and thrust into his hands one of two pistols with which he had come provided. Backing against the door of the hut, with pistols drawn they awaited the attack. It began with a rattling volley of missiles, but the low, projecting thatch of the native dwelling, jutting out as it did several feet from the wall, served to somewhat break the force of the stony hail.
“Don't fire till I give the word,” said Don between his teeth. “We can't afford to waste a shot. The beggars are drawing their knives.”
The words had barely left his lips when, with a shout and a disorderly rush, the crowd broke for the spot where they stood.
“Ready, Pug. Fire!”
Simultaneously with the sharp crack of the pistols, there leapt skyward from mid-street a sudden, blinding flash of lurid light, accompanied by dense volumes of sulphurous smoke, and a thunderous shock that shook the walls of the huts to their foundations. Don and his companion were dashed violently through the door against which they stood, and hurled upon the floor within. A thick shower of sand and stones rattled about and upon them. But of this fact they were unconscious. The shock had stunned them.
When Don came to himself he found Puggles seated on the ground by his side, blubbering dismally.
Not only was the roof ablaze, but showers of glowing sparks fell thickly upon them. The floor of the hut was a bed of fire, the heat intolerable. Puggs, dazed “by the recent shock, and stupefied with fright, seemed to comprehend not a word that was said to him. Don accordingly seized him by the arm and dragged him into the street.