“Ye’re needed where the fight is, lad,” said Dobbin. “Go and help the fellows an’ don’t mind me.”
“Well,” returned Trim, “you can rest for a few minutes anyway. I’ll go and see what’s up and come back.”
He hurried to the entrance to the cave and found the three guards exulting over their easy victory. “I’ll bet,” exclaimed the white, “that they were surprised when they saw shots coming from the waterfall. I don’t believe they saw us at all, and probably they can’t tell exactly where we are.
“I shouldn’t wonder if they think that the waterfall is enchanted.”
“Perhaps they do!” responded Trim; “but the white leaders will know better. The fight is only just begun.”
Even at that moment they heard a voice somewhere down among the trees shouting angrily.
The words could not be understood, for they were spoken in the Naruga language, but Trim was certain that the voice was that of a white man.
It proved that he was not mistaken when a moment later a large number of savages were seen approaching up the hill toward the falls and among them he distinguished one of the whites whom he had seen on the meadow.
It looked as if the blacks were alarmed and were advancing unwillingly.