d young Bradley, keep
close to me, and carry this rifle."

Stedman's speech was hot and wild enough to suit a critical and feverish
audience before a barricade in Paris. And when he was through, Gordon
and Bradley punctuated his oration by firing off the two Winchester
rifles in the air, at which the people jumped and fell on their knees,
and prayed to their several gods. The fighting men of the village
followed the four white men to the outskirts, and took up their stand
there as Stedman told them to do, and the four walked on over the
roughly hewn road, to meet the enemy.

Gordon walked with Bradley, Jr., in advance. Stedman and old Tom Bradley
followed close behind, with the two shot-guns, and the presents in a
basket.

"Are these Hillmen used to guns?" asked Gordon. Stedman said no, they
were not.

"This shot-gun of mine is the only one on the island," he explained,
"and we never came near enough them, before, to do anything with it. It
only carries a hundred yards. The Opekians never make any show of
resistance. They are quite content if the Hillmen satisfy themselves
with the outlying huts, as long as they leave them and the town alone;
so they seldom come to close quarters."

The four men walked on for a half an hour or so, in silence, peering
eagerly on every side; but it was not until they had left the woods and
marched out into the level stretch of grassy country, that they came
upon the enemy. The Hillmen were about forty in number, and were as
savage and ugly-looking giants as any in a picture book. They had
captured a dozen cows and goats, and were driving them on before them,
as they advanced further upon the village. When they saw the four men,
they gave a mixed chorus of cries and yells, and some of them stopped,
and others ran forward, shaking their spears, and shooting their broad
arrows into the ground before them. A tall, gray-bearded, muscular old
man, with a skirt of feathers about him, and necklaces of bones and
animals' claws around his bare chest, ran in front of them, and seemed
to be trying to make them approach more slowly.

"Is that Messenwah?" asked Gordon.

"Yes," said Stedman; "he is trying to keep them back. I don't believe he
ever saw a white man before."

"Stedman," said Albert, speaking quickly, "give your gun to Bradley, and
go forward with your arms in the air, and waving your handkerchief, and
tell them in their language that the King is coming. If they go at you,
Bradle