Part 43 (2/2)

a.s.sisted by Terence, Ellerton raised the body of the mulatto on his back, and, covered by Mr. McKay and Andy, continued the retreat.

As they reached the scene of the great explosion, they found that ma.s.ses of dislodged boulders extended almost to the edge of the lower cliff. Slowly Ellerton and Terence bore their burden over the rough, rock-strewn ground, the savages meanwhile gaining upon them rapidly.

”Keep going at any cost,” shouted Mr. McKay. ”Gain the door of the fence, and look out for us. Andy, we must make a stand here.”

”All right, pater,” replied his son as he took cover behind a convenient ma.s.s of stones.

The two rifles opened a furious fire upon the advancing natives. Not a shot was thrown away, and although stones and spears whizzed over their heads or shattered themselves against the sheltering rock, father and son continued to blaze away coolly, and deliberately. The savages, now more or less contemptuously familiar with the white men's weapons, hesitated to close in upon the dauntless twain, and, shouting to their fellows to hasten to help them to wipe out the white men, they contented themselves with rus.h.i.+ng to the right and left in the hope of surrounding their foes.

”Stop that chap!” yelled Andy, pointing to a crafty warrior, who was creeping on all fours up the rocks on Mr. McKay's left.

Barely two inches of the man's head were visible above the sheltering boulder, but those two inches were sufficient. Mr. McKay's rifle cracked, and the savage bounded a good three feet in the air to fall upon his face upon the ground.

”They're safe!” shouted Mr. McKay, giving a rapid glance in the direction of the iron fence. ”Now, bolt for it!”

Springing over the remainder of the intervening boulders, father and son ran for shelter. For a brief instant the natives failed to understand that their foes were again in retreat; then, to the accompaniment of a flight of spears, they launched themselves over the latest line of defence and pressed home the pursuit.

Rifle in hand, Terence and Ellerton stood by the open door to aid their comrades' retreat; another five yards, then comparative safely.

Suddenly Andy stumbled and fell headlong on the ground, his rifle flying from his grasp; the next instant half-a-dozen natives were upon him. Without a moment's hesitation, Mr. McKay faced about, and, drawing his revolver, fired.

At the first report one of the pursuers fell; but the hammer of the weapon clicked harmlessly as Mr. McKay attempted to bring down a second. The weapon was empty.

Throwing the now useless weapon straight into the face of one of the savages, Mr. McKay stooped to pick up his rifle, a spear just grazing his shoulder as he did so.

With the strength and fury of a Berserker, he gripped the rifle by the barrel, and wielding it like a ponderous flail he smote right and left.

At one moment the bra.s.s-bound b.u.t.t crashed with a terrific lunge full in the tattooed face of a native; at the next it descended with relentless force upon the skull of another.

Then Ellerton's rifle cracked and Terence's revolver added to the din.

The blacks seemed to melt away; and ere the main body of the pursuers could join in the struggle, the white men were safe within the stockade.

”Don't trouble about the door,” shouted Mr. McKay, as Terence was about to close and barricade the iron-lined aperture.

Breathlessly the harried fugitives entered the cave, and, holding their rifles ready for instant use, awaited the arrival of their triumphant foes.

The door of the fence standing tantalisingly open served a better purpose than if it had been closed and barred. Had it been secured, the savages would soon have battered it in by sheer weight of numbers; but even in the heat of the pursuit the natives paused and looked askance at the mute invitation to enter.

Fears of some other snare, more terrible than those they had already experienced, held them in a spell-bound grip.

The temporary check gave the defenders a chance of much-needed rest.

”Now, lads,” exclaimed Mr. McKay, ”we are safe enough for the present.

A thousand of the wretches couldn't rush us in this place. But keep your eyes open, and let rip at the first chap who shows his head inside the door.”

There was a touch of irony in Mr. McKay's advice. Want of sleep threatened to become a more dangerous foe than the savages themselves, and the lads were almost falling asleep as they awaited the next a.s.sault.

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