The youths lost no time in hiding behind a small mud hut, although they knew a bullet could probably penetrate it. But at least it offered temporary shelter, and that was what they wanted.
“Look!” cried Bob, gazing cautiously around the corner of the hut. “There are soldiers in uniform. What do you suppose they’re doing?”
They were soon to see.
The troops, which numbered about thirty, were firing at something that the boys could not see from their places at the side of the hut.
“I’m going to take a chance and get out in the open where I can see something,” said Joe. “Come on. If we’re careful and don’t get in the way of the shooting, we’ll be all right.”
Carefully the chums edged around the side of the dwelling and peeped out at the street. Then they drew back quickly, as a score of shots rang out.
What the youths saw was forty or fifty natives scattered out to escape the fire of the soldiers. Each held in readiness an old rifle, which he discharged at intervals.
“Must be a revolution,” observed Bob. “Perhaps those natives have offered violence to the governor of the town, and the troops have been called to settle the matter.”
Bob could not have come closer to the facts.
“The soldiers are winning,” said Joe. “They’re better trained and have more efficient guns.”