udden fall of
so many gave him time to launch out his great fists a second time. They
fell with the weight of sledge-hammers on the faces of two more of his
opponents, flattening their noses, and otherwise disfiguring their
features, besides stretching them on the ground. At the same time,
Corrie flung his empty pistol in the face of a man who attempted to
assault his companion on the right flank unawares, and laid him prone on
the earth. Another savage, who made the same effort on the left,
received a gash on the thigh from the broken saber that sent him howling
from the scene of conflict.

Thus were eight savages disposed of in about as many seconds.

But there is a limit to the powers and the prowess of man. The savages,
on seeing the fall of so many of their companions, rushed in on Bumpus
before he could recover himself for another blow. That is to say, the
savages behind pushed forward those in front whether they would or no,
and falling _en masse_ on the unfortunate pair, well-nigh buried them
alive in black human flesh.

Bumpus's last cry before being smothered was, "Down with the black
varmints!" and Corrie's last shout was, "Hooray!"

Thus fell--despite the undignified manner of their fall--a couple of as
great heroes as were ever heard of in the annals of war; not excepting
even those of Homer himself.

Now, good reader, this maybe all very well for us to describe, and for
you to read, but it was a terrible thing for Poopy to witness. Being
bound hand and foot, she was compelled to look on; and, to say truth,
she did look on with uncommon interest. When her friends fell, however,
she expressed her regrets and fears in a subdued shriek, for which she
received a sounding slap on the cheek from a young savage who had
chosen for himself the comparatively dangerous post of watching her,
while his less courageous friends were fighting.

Strange to say, Poopy did not shed more tears (as one might have
expected) on receiving such treatment. She had been used to that sort of
thing, poor child. Before coming to the service of her little mistress,
she had been brought up (it would be more strictly correct to say that
she had been kicked, and cuffed, and pinched, and battered up) by a
step-mother, whose chief delight was to pull out handfuls of her woolly
hair, beat her nose flat (which was adding insult to injury, for it was
too flat by nature), and otherwise to maltreat her. When, therefore,
Poopy received the s