With a weapon in either hand the old gentleman blazed away at the Techlas as soon as they approached, doing such deadly execution that the natives were thrown into confusion and held back, uncertain what to do.
Having emptied one brace of revolvers Mr. Perkins hurled them at the heads of his assailants and picked up another pair. I wondered that the San Blas did not shoot him down with arrows, or impale him on a spear, for the top was down and he was unprotected from such missiles; but doubtless they had been instructed to capture him alive and had not been prepared for such a vigorous resistance.
Presently an Indian who had made his way around to the opposite side put his hand on the rail and leaped lightly into the car; but my uncle turned in a flash and seized the fellow at the waist in his powerful arms. Lifting the astonished Techla high in the air Uncle Naboth flung him bodily into the furious crowd before him, tumbling a number of his foes to the ground with this living catapult.
But such magnificent strength and courage was without avail. Before uncle could seize his revolvers again a dozen warriors had leaped into the car beside him and grasped him so firmly that further struggles were useless. The little man collapsed immediately and was dragged out and brought to where we had been watching him in wonder and admiration.
“Good for you, Uncle!” I cried. “If we could have managed to put up such a fight it might have been a different story.”
He smiled at us cheerily.
“Hain’t had so much fun, my lads, since Polly had the measles,” he panted; “but it couldn’t last, o’ course, ’cause I’m all out o’ trainin’.”
And now that all our party had been captured, transforming powerful enemies into helpless victims, King Nalig-Nad appeared before us with a calm countenance and ordered us taken to one of the huts, there to remain in confinement to await his pleasure concerning our disposal.
“Who’s this feller?” asked Uncle Naboth, looking hard at the king.
“It is Nalig-Nad,” I replied, rather depressed by our hard luck.