I remember that the fire was hot in my face as I reached Rawley and nipped his thongs, and that the astonishment on the priest’s face was comical. Also, I was conscious of a numbness in my right hand. I had used my fist perhaps more vigorously than necessary. Two or three natives were prone when I shouldered Mr. Vancouver and called to Rawley, and the darkness of the forest soon concealed us.
A roar delayed by astonishment rose behind us; a thousand devils had opened throat and were leaping to the pursuit.
CHAPTER XXIII.—The Great Catastrophe.
A Powerless Ruler Confronts a Mutiny. Death of the Sovereign Demanded. The Army Under My Command. Christopher’s Sacrifice. The Final Cataclysm.
AFTER a hard run, I laid Mr. Vancouver across Hobart’s shoulder. There was no need to urge all speed to the colony. I turned back to meet the pursuers, and ran swiftly until I encountered the foremost. Before they had seen me I dropped to the ground and was diligently examining it when they came up and halted, others running behind.
“Which way?” inquired the first.
“Stand back!” I said. “I have the trail.”
They obeyed, but my knife was ready for a contingency. I pretended to lose the signs, but found them again, followed a few paces, and announced that the fugitives had turned there and headed for the trail. “That will bring them into a trap,” I added, “for people are still coming up the trail to the clearing. I will follow the runaways and give the alarm. You men spread up and down here, for they may double back. When others come from the clearing, turn them all back, for they will spoil the trail and I never can find it again. Then you too go back if you don’t hear from me very soon. Send a man at once to the priest, and tell him to hold the people there, and to order up more wood and prepare for the sacrifice. I am a Suminali man and can trail like a dog.”