WITH FIERCE SHOUTS THE SAVAGES TORE DOWN
THE PATH STRAIGHT FOR THE BARRICADE
CHAPTER XXVI
A GREAT DISASTER
The natives had furnished themselves with torches made from the branches of resinous trees, and in the ruddy flare the painted bodies of the warriors made an easy mark.
"Three hundred yards," said Mr. McKay, setting up the backsight of his rifle. "Fire rapidly, but aim low. We may check the rush before they come to close quarters."
The sharp reports of the rifles echoed along the rocky walls of the defile, and a series of loud shrieks told that the fire had not been in vain. Yet the onward rush was apparently unchecked, for though several of the torches were extinguished, the savages still rushed to the attack.
"Where's the searchlight?" muttered Mr. McKay, as he thrust a fresh clip of cartridges into his magazine.
At that moment the giant beam swung majestically round and fixed itself upon the gorge.