Quite time, for spears and bullets crossed, the former in a curve, the
latter direct, and drawing from the enemy yells of mingled defiance,
rage and pain.

"That's give it 'em, sir," whispered Tom May, who was close to Murray,
and he made his rifle hiss as he rammed down a fresh cartridge.

"Any one hurt?" asked the lieutenant, in a low, eager tone.

"I got a spear a-sticking in me, sir," said one of the men, in the same
subdued tone of voice, "but I can't say as it hurts."

"Let me see," said Murray excitedly, and he stepped to where the man was
standing tugging at himself instead of following his comrades' example
and reloading.

"Don't think you can see, sir! it's so smoky. Would you mind ketching
hold here and giving a good pull?"

As the man spoke, the midshipman did as he was requested, so far as to
take hold of the shaft of a spear. But there he stopped short, his
imagination suggesting consequences to which he gave voice in a
strangely unnatural tone.

"I daren't draw it out," he said. "It may be wrong to do so."

"But I can't march with a thing like that all wibble wobble at every
step, sir."

"Then you must be helped, my lad," said Murray hastily. "If I draw it
out the wound may burst out bleeding."

"Think so, sir?"

"Yes. You must be helped back till the doctor has seen to you."

"Here, what is it?" said a familiar voice out of the gloom.

"Titely has a spear through his shoulder, sir."

"Tut, tut, tut! Here, let me look."

"Oh, never mind me, sir," said the injured man; "it don't hurt much,
on'y feels like a scratch; but it's orfly in the way."

"Who's this?" asked the lieutenant.

"Murray, sir."

"Let me see. Yes: right through, evidently."

"He wants it drawn out, sir," said the midshipman, and he was holding up
the spear-shaft where he stood facing the injured man; "but it would be
dangerous to meddle with it, wouldn't it, sir?"

"Yes, certainly," said the lieutenant. "He must be helped back. What's
that?"

"More spears, sir," growled Tom May, as there was the whizz and thud of
the missiles once more.

"Present! Fire!" said the lieutenant sharply; and a fresh volley was
fired, with the result of a rush of feet being plainly heard from the
enemy, now in full retreat.

"Keep silence, my lads," said the lieutenant, who had been waiting till
the thudding of the ramrods came to an end and denoted that the little
party was once more ready to deliver fire.

Silence