‘Take that, ye murdtherin’ divils!’ said old Tom, who had crawled behind a fallen log, and now raising himself, poured three shots from a gun and a brace of horse-pistols into the enemy. ‘I seen one of ye go down thin, and it’s not the only one we’ll have this blessed night.’
‘There’s number two,’ said Gerald O’More, as he rolled over a tall man with stripes of white and red pigment, who had dashed out for an instant.
‘Well done, O’More!’ cried Hubert, with a cheery ring in his voice. ‘Make as much noise as you like now, but don’t give away a chance. Look out!’—as three spears hissed dangerously close—‘you’ll be hit if you don’t mind, and——’
‘Hang the brutes!’ shouted O’More. ‘We could charge if we could only see them. What do you think of it, Hamilton?’
‘We shall come out straight,’ said that gentleman, with his customary coolness, ‘if we behave like disciplined troops and not like recruits. Pardon me, O’More, but this impetuosity is out of place. If one of us get hurt it may demoralise the men and give the blacks confidence.’
‘Never fear,’ said the excited young man. ‘It’s not the front rankers that drop the fastest. By George!’ This half-ejaculation was elicited by a spear-point which, passing between the arm and body, grazed his side.
‘I told you so,’ said Hamilton. ‘Why the deuce can’t you behave reasonably! These imps of darkness can see us better than we see them. How they are yelling in the rear!’
‘That’s to draw us off,’ said Gerald. ‘I won’t go behind a tree now, if I was to be here for seven years. But that spear didn’t come far. It’s one they throw with the hand—old Tom taught me that much; I’ll have the scoundrel if I see the night out.’
A sustained volley along the line from the main body of stock-riders at the rear, headed by Ardmillan, Neil Barrington, and Argyll, appeared to have told upon the enemy. More than one dying yell was heard. The spears were less constant, and though several blows and bruises had been inflicted by thrown boomerangs and nullahs, no serious casualty had occurred among the white men.
On the right wing of the advanced guard old Tom had ensconced himself behind a huge fallen tree, which hid both himself and his dogs. These last growled ominously, but took no further part, as yet, in the fray.