"I guess so. But they couldn't spare the men or the time to send expeditions inter the interior of the islands. The natives know every path and trail. It might take months to punish them, so they have things pretty much their own way."
"It sure looks like that," agreed his companion. "But how about having a pull at that Pisco bottle?"
"Here it is," rejoined the other, apparently producing some sort of bottle and passing it to his companion.
"Ah-h-h-h-h-h, that was good," breathed one of the voices, after an interval.
"Well, you want to be careful how much you drink of it," was the answer. "It's fiery stuff, all right. They say that it has been the ruin of the natives down here."
"Comes from Peru, don't it?"
"That's right. But hark!—what in the name of the Old Harry is that?"
The boys, who had listened to this conversation with interest, wondered, too, what a sudden commotion in the direction of the camp might betoken.
Shouts, cries, and imprecations arose on the night air. Presently a fusillade of shots rang out.
"We're attacked!" shouted one of the men outside the hut. "Come on! Let's get over there!"