towards him.

Then it was that Leonard forgot his caution, as under such circumstances
a man, with nerves already strained to breaking point, well might do.
Doubling his fist, he struck the giant in the face with such force that
Xavier fell headlong to the ground, dragging Juanna after him. Leonard
would have done better had he suffered her to be insulted, but just then
he remembered only that he was protecting a helpless girl.

Juanna was up in a moment and at his side. Xavier also sprang to his
feet, cursing with fury and drawing his sabre as he rose.

"Follow me," said Leonard to Juanna and Otter. Then without more ado he
took to his heels.

A shout of laughter went up from the mob.

"This is the brave man. This is the French fire-eater," they cried. "He
strikes unawares and is afraid to fight." Nor did they stop at words.
All of them were jealous of the stranger, and would have rejoiced to see
him dead.

"Stop him!" they shouted, and many of the men started, running like dogs
to turn a hare.

Still Leonard might have won through, for he was swift of foot. But
neither Juanna nor Otter could run so fast as he, and his pace must
be their pace. Before he had gone a hundred yards he found himself
confronted by a dozen or more of the slavers, some of whom had knives in
their hands.

"Stop, coward, stop and fight," they yelled in Portuguese and Arabic,
waving their weapons in his face.

"Certainly," answered Leonard, wheeling round and glancing about him.

There, not thirty yards away, was the drawbridge of the slave camp, and
he thought that he saw it tremble, as if it was about to fall. At his
side were Otter and Juanna, and towards him, his hideous face red
with blood, rushed the great Portugee, sabre aloft, and screaming
imprecations.

"Otter," Leonard said quickly, as he drew his sword, "guard my back, for
when I have killed this one the rest will spring. For you, young lady,
reach the bridge if you can. Soa and your people are there."

Now Xavier was upon him with a rush. He struck furiously, and Leonard
avoided the blow, springing backwards out of his reach. Twice more he
rushed on thus and twice he smote, but each time Leonard ran backward
towards the drawbridge, that now was not more than twenty yards away.
A fourth time the Portugee came on, and the Englishman could not repeat
his tactics, for the mob hemmed him in behind. On sped Xavier and smote
his hardest: Leonard saw the steel gleam in the moo