"We'd best put back, and try our luck over the boulders!" Phil said, panting so heavily that it was only with difficulty he could speak intelligently.
"We've fought our way through this stuff for an hour, and it will take us as long to go back," I said petulantly. "It stands to reason that we must come to an end of such work very soon, and we'd better push on, if only to find an easier way of descent."
Phil made no decided objection to this proposition, and after a short time of rest I led the way once more, straining my eyes in vain for some token that we were near the end of this most fatiguing journey.
On, on we pressed, I wishing most devoutly that I had never fallen in with Phil's scheme, and then, suddenly, the ironlike weeds became less dense. It was possible to make my way with far less exertion, and I shouted the joyful information to Phil, who I knew needed something to cheer him on.
"We're getting out where it will be possible to take our choice of paths!" I cried; "and if you're of the same opinion, we won't travel many miles farther for the sake of seeing a battle between the savages, but make our way back to the shore."
I had no more than thus spoken when there was a rustling of the stiff stalks just in front of me, and looking up quickly I saw the muzzle of a musket within three or four inches of my face.
While standing like a statue gazing at the metal tube, so much surprised that it was impossible to speak, a voice cried harshly:—
"Throw down your weapon, or I'll put a bullet through you."
"We haven't any weapons!" I cried; and a great simple I was for having given such information.
Then there came into my mind the thought that he who had shouted must be one of our men, because it was not probable there were any on the island besides them who spoke English, and I cried gleefully to Phil:—