Suddenly Jack Bowler asked:
“What time are ye relieved?”
“About three o’clock, sah,” replied Pomp; “dat I’ishman he gib me a chaince to sleep den.”
Bowler knocked the ashes from his pipe. Then he leaned over against Pomp, and whispered:
“Look forward there! Don’t ye see somebody?”
Pomp turned his head in the direction indicated. Fatal move it proved for him.
The next moment the world swam about him, and then he knew no more.
With terrific force Bowler had struck him over the head with a heavy iron instrument. The negro’s head was proverbially hard, but it was not hard enough for that.
In an instant Bowler was upon his feet.
He took a step toward the cabin and listened. Then he gave a shrill, hardly audible whistle.