He had not much left, but what he had he utilized in warning the man he had saved to hold on for dear life.
“Lie still!” he shouted. “You’re all right! Don’t stand up! They’re after you!”
Chick had seen that three of the pursuing natives were dashing down the mountainside.
Each of them carried a spear, and there was no reason to doubt that he could hurl it with the precision of Jai Singh himself.
The only reason they did not send their weapons ahead of them now seemed to be that they had not time.
At least, that was Chick’s first reading of it. Then he changed his mind, as he saw that the spears were fastened to them by a cord that passed around their neck and over one shoulder.
The cords had become entangled in some way, and all three of the men were trying desperately to get them loose.
Down they came! Then—just as they were going to throw themselves upon Chick and the young man he had saved, and neither of whom had had time to get to his feet—there was a bang, and the foremost of the three rascals threw up his hands, whirled around, and went over the precipice!
“Get the other two!” roared the familiar voice of Patsy Garvan, as his good-tempered face appeared above the edge of the rocks at the back.
He was seen to be hurrying along to get to the narrow ledge, and his rifle was ready to send another shot at the companions of the fellow he had shot.