ving. For
the moment it seems as though the Ba-gcatya were fighting with each
other, striving to hew their way through their own ranks in their
endeavours to escape beyond the reach of that awful and destructive
fire.

"Give it to them again!" growls Hazon, a lurid gleam in his deep-set,
piercing eyes. "But, aim low--aim low!"

Again not a shot is thrown away. That side of the savage host falls back
hurriedly, leaving the ground bestrewn with bodies, dead, dying,
crushed. A perfect storm of exultant cheers greets this move.

But if a temporary retreat, it is no rout. In obedience to a
rapidly-uttered, whistling signal, fully one-half of the main body
swings round and hurls itself with incredible force and fury upon
another point of the rock-circle, seemingly the weakest point, for here
the rocks are low and apart, and have to be supplemented with bags and
bales.

Laurence Stanninghame is in command here. And now his dark face flushes
with the glow of a mad excitement, a perfectly transforming
exhilaration. He would thunder his commands aloud, but that a deadly
coolness is as indispensable almost as accuracy of aim. His orders are
the same as Hazon's and uttered as calmly--but for a suppressed
tremor--and as audibly.

The very earth seems to rock and reel beneath the detonating roll of the
volleys, the thunderous rumble of charging feet. The dark, glaring
faces of warring demons, the flinging aloft of shields, the groaning and
yells, the redness of the sheeting flames, all this renders him mad--mad
with the revel of conflict, with the herculean determination which is
sublime above death. Here again whole lines of the enemy are down. Here
again those in front would draw back if they could, but the immense
weight behind hurls them on. It is the work of but very few moments.

And now the whole of the Ba-gcatya host is circling around the slaver's
position, every now and again making a furious rush upon what seems a
weak point of the defences. But the defenders have a way of massing upon
each point thus attacked, and that with a celerity which is truly
marvellous, and the result is the same. Yet with each repulse the
terrible ranks leap forward immediately, and every such charge brings
them nearer than the last. Moreover, as each of their fighting leaders
is picked off, another springs forward with unparalleled intrepidity to
take his place. The while the barking roar of their terrific slogan
rends the air in its mos