The others turned to fly to the shelter of the neighboring forests.
"Hurrah! they're bolting," said Mont.
"But they've collared what was left of our bread, and the remains of the roast pork," said the hired boy angrily. "Oh, the varmints! I'll just give them something."
He advanced to fire better.
An aged chief, however, turned at this moment and discharged a parting shot which took effect in the calf of Stump's leg.
"Oh, dear! I'm hit," he cried. "A great wooden skewer's stuck right in my leg, sir. Perhaps it's poisoned, sir. Oh, dear, but I wish it hadn't been me. There's the professor, now; he could have borne it better than me."
"Thank you, my young friend," said the professor, "the calf of my leg is as susceptible to pain as yours; let us get away, as arrowheads are sharp, and in certain parts of the body mortal."
"Where shall we go?" asked Mont.
"We are not safe here. The savages will return in larger numbers directly, and we shall probably lose our lives, so I propose to seek our boat."
"And go back to the Searcher?" asked Carl.