“Does it mean fight, then?”
“It means fight, my brother.”
Silently we had stood listening to this. Now we prepared for action.
“Use your firearms first,” commanded Allerton; “and then, if necessary, the electrites. But remember we must save every charge in the batteries that we can.”
We placed the four chests on end in a row, forming a scanty bulwark, and took station behind them. The party of Mopanes, evidently returning to their villages from a hunting expedition, were now heard noisily jabbering in the distance, the sounds gradually drawing nearer. It seemed they knew and used this trail as well as the Itzaex did, although Chaka had called it a “secret trail.” How many we were about to face we could not conjecture, but none of us showed or felt much fear. Indeed, I am inclined to think we one and all welcomed the chance to prove the qualities of our equipment. I was sorry to receive orders not to fire the electrite, being curious to know how effective these queer weapons would be; but I well knew Allerton was right in husbanding our supply of stored electricity. We might need every charge badly before we had played the game to the end.
The trail wound irregularly here and there through the dense forest, but for some seventy yards ahead it came straight toward us, broader and more open than in most places, which was all to our disadvantage. This was offset by the fact that the natives had no suspicion an enemy was in their path. They were between the Itzaex and their own people, and imagined they had nothing to fear. Not even a scout had been sent ahead. They rounded the curve in a dense mass, chattering and laughing until they caught sight of us standing motionless in the trail. Then their astonishment was genuine enough.
I think, had they found us garbed in the same manner as all white men who had visited their coast had been, that there might have been chance for a parley; but our appearance was so strange that they did not hesitate a moment about attacking us. The first of the band, which numbered about a hundred warriors, had scarcely halted when their wicked darts began to fly in our direction.
These darts, the most dangerous weapons employed by the Maya tribes, are slim strips of a tough vine, cut and hardened in the sun until they become nearly as hard as steel. One end is sharpened and coated with a deadly vegetable poison; the other has a flat piece of bark inserted in a notch to give it “wings.” The darts are carried in a bark sheath and are hurled with amazing swiftness and accuracy. The Maya tribes also use bows and arrows, as well as long spears with heads of sharpened stone or iron. But these latter weapons are most serviceable in hunting; in a fight the Mayas depend largely upon the darts, a prick from one of the points sending its poison coursing through the veins of the victim, who expires in agony in a few minutes.
It may be the distance was in our favor; anyway the darts rattled against our armor harmlessly enough. And we did not give the enemy time to come nearer, just then. Taking careful aim we returned a volley from our rifles which, backed by the thick mass of howling Indians, did terrible execution. Nearly a score fell where they stood and the others took to instant flight.
I felt much elated by our success until I noticed Chaka shaking his head as if greatly annoyed. There was little opportunity to inquire the reason, for in a surprisingly brief space of time a dart struck full upon my headgear, and so sharp was the slender point that it stuck in the meshes and hung there. Another and another dart followed, from this or that side and even from behind us. The cunning Mopanes had leaped into the thicket and surrounded us, from their concealment being enabled to attack us with impunity. Arrows also flew, striking us sharp blows. A spear knocked Pedro clean off his feet, but failed to wound him, as it struck against his impervious gas-jacket.