I was exulting in the strategy that had outflanked the Faytans and reflecting that our boys had made a dash for those rocks during the darkness of the storm, when their movements could not be observed, when two stout arms seized me and raised me bodily from the ground. I thought at first some of our own people had rescued me, but being turned face down over a broad shoulder I saw the dusky skin of a savage below me and knew that I had been taken by a Faytan.
Instantly I began to struggle and cry out, but bound as I was I could offer no serious resistance and my howls were almost drowned by the crack of rifles, which continued unabated. I know now that my friends saw my plight and Ned and Señor de Jiminez, who were both splendid shots, made one or two attempts to bring down my captor; but my sprawling body so covered him that only his head and legs were free, and to fire at him at all was to put me in imminent danger.
He was a powerful fellow, and fairly ran with me—no light burden, if I am small—back to the forest. There were few of his band as successful and he doubtless owed his own safety to the fact that he bore me upon his back.
The “stinging weapons” had played fearful havoc with the attacking party, and even as the few stragglers who survived—most of them wounded—crept back to the protecting forest, our men sallied from the rocks, hastily stripped the pearl ornaments from the fallen, and regained the ship without a single casualty.
I stood among the trees watching them, with the king at one side of me and the Crooked One on the other side. My joy was equaled by the chagrin of my enemies when we saw Joe was safe with his comrades and being complimented on all sides, while the ladies waved their handkerchiefs to him from the deck of the ship.
We were a silent party. I, because I was so disappointed and disgusted at my hard luck that I could almost have cried, and the others because their prettily conceived plan of attack had been thwarted and their warriors mowed down by scores.
“It is useless, your Majesty,” announced the Crooked One, regretfully; “the weapons of the pale-skins are too bitter for us to face. The other plan is best. It will require time and patience; but it is best.”
“Come, then,” replied the King, briefly. “We will return to the city.”
“What is the other plan?” I inquired, as we were conducted to our litters.
“We shall let thirst and hunger fight for us,” answered Attero, readily. “Your people will soon need fresh water; but they cannot get it without entering the forest, where my warriors will patiently await them.”