Seeing their champion killed, the Curracoo wavered; and, seizing this favourable opportunity, Yacka, uttering a loud war-yell, sprang forward and called upon the men in ambush to follow him. In a few minutes the Enooma blacks were furiously attacking the Curracoos in the rear. Unaccustomed to these tactics, the Curracoos were terrified, and at once tried to run away from the danger. This, however, was impossible; they were hemmed in on all sides, and by merciless foes who knew not the meaning of the word ‘quarter.’ It was a fearful sight to see these blacks felled to the ground by the heavy blows rained upon them on all sides. The Enooma were bent upon slaughter, and killed their enemies without mercy. The plain had every appearance of a battle-field, and in some places half a dozen blacks were piled in a heap, dead.
At a signal from Yacka the Enooma ceased fighting, and, surrounding the blacks still left alive, held them prisoners. These men were disarmed and marched off towards the camp. A few of the Curracoos could be seen flying from the scene of the battle which had proved so fatal to them, but comparatively few of them escaped.
Yacka came to Edgar and Will, and they saw he was almost covered with blood, and his club was dripping dark-red drops. The black’s eyes shone with the light of battle and thirst for blood. All the savage nature of this strange being was roused, and the cruelty in him was uppermost. He shook the blood-stained club over his head, and said:
‘Victory to the Enooma. There has been a terrible slaughter. Come and see. Yacka will show you how the Enooma strike their enemies.’
Edgar and Will descended from the hill where they had witnessed the fight, and followed Yacka on to the field of battle.
CHAPTER XVI.
AFTER THE FIGHT.
It was indeed a terrible sight the two friends gazed upon. On the ground where the fight had furiously raged lay scores of dead blacks in all attitudes, just as they had fallen. It made them shudder to look at the scene. The terrific nature of the blows dealt was apparent, for most of the dead had their skulls fractured, and their features were ghastly and distorted. Their weapons lay near them, and Edgar picked up the club which the powerful black who fought the Enooma chief had used. It was a great weight, and fully three feet long, and capable of dealing a fearful blow, even in a weak man’s hands. The end was covered with blood and hair, showing that the Curracoo had killed many enemies before he was slain.
‘You will bury these men?’ asked Edgar.
‘The Enooma must have burial,’ said Yacka; ‘the Curracoo are not fit to be hidden away;’ and he struck a fallen black, who still showed signs of life, over the head with his club.
‘That was a cowardly thing to do,’ said Edgar.