Jack remained where he was, and permitted Waldron and Doorival to go slowly forward. He looked carefully to his rifle, and as the array of natives came rather confusedly along he picked out a conspicuous-looking personage in the lead and fired. The unfortunate savage threw up his arms and dropped dead in his tracks. Another fell, desperately wounded, and yet another to the third shot. The mass of pursuers became confused at this sudden onslaught. They halted, appeared irresolute, and finally made a flank movement, and suffered our travellers to pursue their way in peace.
Jack quickly rejoined his men, who had stopped at the first shot; they then dismounted, and, leading their weary horses, made good their way to the cover, where they found firm ground and a sheltered nook, wherein they rested for the night, thankful to believe that they would remain unmolested by the dismayed contingent of the tribes of Raak.
“It was unfortunate that we should be compelled to draw first blood,” said Jack, as they kept midnight watch, “but it was unavoidable. If one horse had fallen we should have had the whole mob upon us at once, without the faintest chance of escape.”
“What made you think of that particular style of defence?”
“I happened to know two explorers,” answered Jack, “who saved themselves in a similar emergency long ago. Only that they were in very wet, marshy country. Shirley told me he had never known it fail; and he being an unquestioned authority I determined to try it.”
“Well, there’s nothing like experience,” said Guy, reflectively. “I should never have thought of it, though I was just preparing to sell my life dearly, as the writing fellows call it. To-morrow we shall be well across this belt of scrub, and I suppose we may consider the war-path business over.”
“I trust so,” answered his comrade; “we have plenty of obstacles and troubles before us yet without that. I must say I shall be glad to see the first bush inn again, unsatisfactory halting-places as they are, notwithstanding.”
“That tribe give us fits when we go back to Raak again,” observed Doorival, with decision. “How many men you take, Misser Redgrave?”
“Plenty of men, plenty of guns, Doorival,” said Guy Waldron; “don’t you be afraid. You must tell them all about that if they don’t touch the cattle we’ll be the best friends they ever had.”
“I not afraid,” said the boy, proudly. “You nebber see me frighten, Misser Waldron!”