There was no question about the surprise with which the attack was received. The entire body of the enemy stood still.
“Surrender!” shouted Trim at the top of his voice, while he aimed his revolver at one of the whites.
The blacks in the enemy’s party immediately took to their heels and made for the other side of the meadow.
At the same instant one of the white men in Trim’s party lost his head through the excitement of the affair and fired at the retreating blacks.
He stood almost beside Trim at the moment and the smoke from his rifle shut out the view for the fraction of a second.
That brief time completely changed the whole affair. It might have gone just as Trim had planned it, although it is possible, too, that the three whites might have made a stubborn fight. However, what happened was this:
Trim called to his man angrily not to fire until he was ordered to do so, and jumped aside in order to get out of the smoke where he could see clearly.
He jumped just in time to escape a bullet that was sent by one of the white enemies for that spot.
The bullet missed Trim and struck the faithful Dobbin in the shoulder.
“Ah, lad, I’m hit!” cried Dobbin, as he stumbled and fell to the ground.