now.
I found myself on my feet emptying one magazine, then the other,
clicking open the breech to re-load, snapping it to again, while
cheering and yelling with pure ferocity and joy of slaughter as I did
so. With our four guns the two of us made a horrible havoc. Both the
guards who held Summerlee were down, and he was staggering about like a
drunken man in his amazement, unable to realize that he was a free man.
The dense mob of ape-men ran about in bewilderment, marveling whence
this storm of death was coming or what it might mean. They waved,
gesticulated, screamed, and tripped up over those who had fallen.
Then, with a sudden impulse, they all rushed in a howling crowd to the
trees for shelter, leaving the ground behind them spotted with their
stricken comrades. The prisoners were left for the moment standing
alone in the middle of the clearing.

Challenger's quick brain had grasped the situation. He seized the
bewildered Summerlee by the arm, and they both ran towards us. Two of
their guards bounded after them and fell to two bullets from Lord John.
We ran forward into the open to meet our friends, and pressed a loaded
rifle into the hands of each. But Summerlee was at the end of his
strength. He could hardly totter. Already the ape-men were recovering
from their panic. They were coming through the brushwood and
threatening to cut us off. Challenger and I ran Summerlee along, one
at each of his elbows, while Lord John covered our retreat, firing
again and again as savage heads snarled at us out of the bushes. For a
mile or more the chattering brutes were at our very heels. Then the
pursuit slackened, for they learned our power and would no longer face
that unerring rifle. When we had at last reached the camp, we looked
back and found ourselves alone.

So it seemed to us; and yet we were mistaken. We had hardly closed the
thornbush door of our zareba, clasped each other's hands, and thrown
ourselves panting upon the ground beside our spring, when we heard a
patter of feet and then a gentle, plaintive crying from outside our
entrance. Lord Roxton rushed forward, rifle in hand, and threw it
open. There, prostrate upon their faces, lay the little red figures of
the four surviving Indians, trembling with fear of us and yet imploring
our protection. With an expressive sweep of his hands one of them
pointed to the woods around them, and indicated that they were full of
danger. Then, darting forward,