ss, with spears and guns at
trail, pausing often to glance towards the camp they meant so soon to
surprise and capture.

The moon gets yet brighter. Moncrieff is watching. Shading his eyes from
the light, he is gazing across the marsh and listening to every sound. Not
a quarter of a mile away is a little marshy lake. From behind it for
several minutes he has heard mournful cries. They proceed from the
burrowing owls; but they must have been startled! They even fly towards
the camp, as if to give warning of the approach of the swarthy foe.

Suddenly from the edge of the lake a sound like the blast of a trumpet is
heard; another and another, and finally a chorus of trumpet notes; and
shortly after a flock of huge flamingoes are seen wheeling in the moonlit
air.

'It is as I thought,' says Moncrieff; 'they are creeping through the
grass. Hurry round, Dugald, and call the men quietly to quarters.'

Moncrieff himself, rifle in hand, climbs up to the top of the waggon.

'Go down now,' he tells the sentry. 'I mean to fire the first shot.'

He lies down to wait and watch. No bloodhound could have a better eye.
Presently he sees a dark form raise itself near a tussock of grass. There
is a sharp report, and the figure springs into the air, then falls dead on
the pampas.

No need for the foe to conceal themselves any longer. With a wild and
unearthly scream, that the very earth itself seems to re-echo, they spring
from their hiding and advance at the double towards the fort--for fort it
is now. As they come yelling on they fire recklessly towards it. They
might as well fire in the air.

Moncrieff's bold Doric is heard, and to some purpose, at this juncture.

'Keep weel down, men! Keep weel to cove_rrr_! Fire never a shot till he
has the o_rr_der. Let every bullet have its billet. Ready!
Fire-_r_-_r_-_r_!'

Moncrieff rattled out the _r_'s indefinitely, and the rifles rattled out
at the same time. So well aimed was the volley that the dark cloud seemed
staggered. The savages wavered for a time, but on they came again,
redoubling their yells. They fired again, then, dropping their guns,
rushed on towards the breastwork spears in hand. It was thus that the
conflict commenced in dread earnest, and the revolvers now did fearful
execution. The Indians were hurled back again and again, and finally they
broke and sought cover in the bush. Their wounded lay writhing and crying
out close beneath the rampart, and among these were a