hose heavy
foliage cut off the light, so that we were gazing down glorious vistas
that ended far away in the deepest shade.

"Might hide an army there, and no one could see 'em," muttered Morgan.

"Find Pomp?" said Hannibal, looking at me inquiringly.

"Yes," I said; "try and find him. Go on."

The great fellow drew a deep breath, and led off at once with the
firelock in his left hand, the axe in his right; and I knew that if we
had a fresh encounter, the modern weapon would be useless in his hands,
while the axe would be terrible.

To my great horror, the course he chose was out by where the desperate
struggle had taken place, and my first instinct was to close my eyes and
not look at the dead Indians; but I told myself I was a soldier's son,
and that these men had fallen as we were fighting for our lives. But it
was very terrible to see them lying there as they had fallen, two of
them still grasping their weapons, and with a look of savage hatred in
their faces.

Hannibal led on, Morgan followed, and I was last, and I was beginning to
feel glad that we were leaving the dead behind, where they lay beneath
the great cypress, when Hannibal turned round and raised his axe to
point as it seemed to me in the direction of the forest beyond the
garden, and to my horror it appeared as if the man had been seized with
a fresh desire to shed blood, for his great lips were drawn away from
his glistening teeth, his eyes opened widely showing broad rings of
white round the dark irides, and throwing up the axe ready to strike, he
dropped the gun and literally bounded at me.

With a faint cry of horror as I saw the awful-looking object leaping at
me, the firelock dropping from his left hand, and the blood glistening
on his great arms, I dropped sidewise just as a knife flashed by my
cheek and over my left shoulder.

It was then that I realised the truth, and drew my breath hard, as I saw
Hannibal's axe descend; there was a terrible crashing sound and a heavy
fall, and as, sick and seeing dimly, I looked down to my left, the great
figure of the black was bending over a grinning object in the bushes at
the forest edge, his foot was pressing back one of our enemies, and he
dragged the axe free.

"Is he dead now?" Morgan whispered, hoarsely, and his face looked
ghastly as he caught me by the arm.

Hannibal uttered a low deep sound, and drew himself up to his full
height. Then he bent down again, and I saw him tear a glitte