y to sixty
blacks, each with a burning brand in his left hand and a spear or club
in the other, all leaping and shrieking in concert, as they sprang on
towards the hut. The defenders waited till they got within thirty
paces, and then all together fired. The result was the same as before.
Several fell, others ran howling back wounded, the rest, throwing down
their brands, followed. Another volley was sent after them, in the hope
that it might induce them to abandon the attack. Craven reloaded, and
sat watching at his post. The crack of his rifle was again heard.

"I have hit the scoundrel!" he exclaimed. "He is no black man; he is
ordering them to lift him up; they are carrying him off. I have not the
heart to send another bullet through him, but he deserves it."

"We may capture him, though," cried Arthur. "Let us jump on our horses;
we shall soon overtake them."

The proposal was instantly adopted; no one was more eager and full of
animation than Craven. The horses were led out, and, Larry remaining
with the spare firearms in the hut, the party urged on the animals in
the direction the blacks had gone. The flames of the burning forest
lighted up the country, and enabled them to ride at full speed, though
it was with difficulty they could make the horses keep near the fire,
edging along which the blacks had gone, hoping probably, if they could
get round the furthest end, to place it between themselves and those
they had so ruthlessly attacked. Mounting to the top of a ridge, the
horsemen caught sight of a party of natives on a hill before them, with
a valley intervening. The blacks got to the top, on some open ground,
when it was seen that they were carrying a burden among them. The white
men dashed down into the valley, and, making their way across it, urged
their horses up the opposite height. The blacks saw them coming; in
vain the man they were carrying ordered them to remain by him. Oaths,
entreaties, promises were of no avail. Putting him down, they ran off
as fast as their legs would carry them.

The last exclamations he uttered showed his pursuers that he was no
native. They were in English, and too horrible to be repeated. The
Gilpins reached him. He glared fiercely at them as they dismounted, and
seemed to be feeling for a pistol in his belt. They grasped his hands
to prevent his using it. The oath he uttered betrayed him. Though his
face and arms and the upper part of his body was bla