CHAPTER XVIII
THE TERRIBLE FIGHT AND FINAL VICTORY
“I suppose we are in for it again,” was John’s terse comment, when he saw how the tide of battle had turned.
“We must go to the north,” was Muro’s answer.
And sorrowfully and sadly the march began. It was not a march; it was a hurried retreat. They had nothing to hope from the Brabos, and if the force to the south had staked their fortunes with the latter, it was evident that they would not interfere with the desire of that tribe.
John knew that the Brabos were the first tribe they had seen and engaged on the island. If they had known that the Osagas were the allies of that tribe, they would have halted and shown fight to the fleeing warriors.
The day had been a most trying one to the poor yaks. The roads were terrible to travel over, and they had been forced every step of the way. Jill, the smaller of the two animals, began to show the effect of the pace, and would not be urged along.
Angel, as usual, was in the trees, wherever they were near the line of travel. While thus going forward, he was seen to spring down from a tree, and began setting up the most violent chatter.
George knew what that meant. “What is it, Angel? Which way?”
He selected a tree, and Angel was up alongside and looked to the north. Far in the distance could be seen a large body of warriors coming down rapidly.
Muro and Sutoto sprang to the tree, but not before George cried out: “A big party is coming in from the north.”