shone out. Then the splint burst
into flame as voices were heard inquiring what it all meant.

"Back into your room!" thundered the captain.

As he spoke, _thud_, _thud_, _thud_, came three heavy knocks at the door
in front, which were answered by Uncle Jack's gun rapidly thrust through
the slit left for defence, out of which a long tongue of flame rushed as
there was a sharp report, and then silence.

"Blows of clubs?" cried the captain, sheltering the light with his hand,
as he looked toward his brother.

"Spears," said Uncle Jack, laconically; and the next moment the sound of
his powder-flask was heard upon the muzzle of the gun, followed by the
ramming down of a wad.

But the boys' eyes were not directed toward their uncle, whose figure
could be plainly seen as he loaded again, for they were fixed upon the
body of a black lying face downward on the kitchen floor, with Shanter,
hideously painted, squatting beside it, showing his white teeth, and
evidently supremely proud of his deed of arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

"THEY'RE ON THE ROOF."

Coming quickly into the kitchen with the candle, the captain held it
down over the prostrate black, turned him partly over, and let him fall
back as he rapidly blew it out.

"Dead," he said, hoarsely.

"Yohi. Gone bong," said Shanter, quietly. "Come along mumkull Marmi
and plenty white Marys. When piggi jump up, baal find dat black
fellow."

There was a few moments' silence, and then the captain said sharply:
"Norman--Tim, lift out the bar. Rifle, be ready with your piece, and
fire at once if an attack is made. Don't lift out the shutter, Norman,
till I say `Now!'"

Norman made no reply, for much of his training had been tinged with
military discipline. He lifted out the bar, and set it down, then he
and Tim took hold of the shutter, while Rifle stood ready with his
fowling-piece, listening intently, though, to his father, who was
whispering to Shanter.

"Now!" said the captain, sharply. The shutter was lifted out, the boys
felt the captain and Shanter push by them; there was a strange rustling
sound, a yell from many voices close at hand, and the shutter was thrust
back in its place, but would not go home.

_Bang_, _bang_! Two sharp reports from Rifle's piece, which was then
dragged back and the shutter glided into the opening, but was driven
right in the boys' faces by what seemed to be half a dozen heavy blows.
Then it was pushed in its place again,