“I guess not!” shouted Patsy, somewhere in the gloom. “Whoof!”
This last ejaculation accompanied a clashing of steel, which was immediately followed by the report of a revolver.
“Keep on firing!” cried Nick. “Fire, but run! Make for the hills!”
His little party sent a volley back to the drawbridge, and when Nick glanced back he saw four of the spearmen go down on their faces.
In the middle of them towered the tall form of Calaman, holding up one hand for attention.
“Stop!” he ordered. “Don’t cast your spears! Bring them in alive! That’s how I want them—alive!”
The hurling of the spears ceased, but a shout from Patsy made Nick run to his side.
“What’s the trouble, Patsy?”
“They’ve got Chick! Look! There’s four of them! He’s fighting like a wild cat, but what can one do against four? And there are more coming!”
In his excitement, Patsy leveled his revolver at the four men who had surrounded Chick at the very edge of the drawbridge.