d, it had dropped now that the cord was cut. They had
burst their way through the band swung across the river, and they had
killed the most dangerous of their enemies. The relief was immense, and
they showed it by giddy laughter, by gripping hands, and by shouting and
gesticulating.

"You stuck to me like a good 'un," said Dick, in grateful tones. "Had
you funked we should have been taken. I will report to Mr Pepson."

"And massa save Johnnie. Look at man me jest throw to de fishes. He
kill me sure as egg if massa not fire. Fine shot. Big sportman, massa;
and Johnnie say so to all de town when him back. But what part you hit?
Look! Blood here and dere, and dere. Eberywhere!"

He held up his hands in consternation, for our hero was indeed in a
sorry plight. He had been little better than a scarecrow after his dash
through the bush, and his escape from the stockade, and the few hours
aboard the launch had not improved matters. He was as black as a sweep,
for the soot from the funnel had played upon him as the launch bounded
forward, while the perspiration had helped it to adhere. Then he had
been struck in no fewer than six places by the slugs of the enemy, and
in each case his tattered clothes told the tale. Not that the bleeding
had been severe. On the contrary, none of the slugs had penetrated far,
and in three of the wounds there was merely a large red bruise, now
getting more discoloured. The skin had not been broken, and where there
had been penetration it had been so slight that the missiles had fallen
out into his clothing. Still one cannot stop a slug without feeling the
effect, and Dick felt as if he had been playing a very hard and rough
game of football. He limped owing to the wound on his knee. When he
breathed he suffered considerable pain, for he had had a hard rap over
the ribs, while his shoulders were so stiff from a wound just below the
neck that he might well have fallen in the scrum and had half a dozen
lusty fellows tumbling on him.

"All's well that ends well," he cried cheerily. "And that reminds me
that I'm hungry again. I have come to the conclusion that fighting is
hungry work. What stores are there, my lad?"

"Find plenty, sar. Massa say tree week ago, `yo go down to launch and
put dis and dat aboard. Den s'pose nigger come 'long, all right for us.
Get to launch and steam 'way. Hab grub to fill de tumock.' Johnnie
plenty hungry, too."

"Then off you go and lay a