."

A whiz of something, together with a double report. A bullet thudded
hard upon the outside wall, knocking up a cloud of chips and dust. Then
a regular fusillade rattled from the nearest thorn-bushes, and the
vicious hum of missiles in uncomfortable proximity. At the same time
tossing shields and glinting assegais stirred along the mimosa fringe,
as a swarm of savages broke into view, hurrying to the support of those
who had first attacked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A TRAP.

Ancram felt his face going cold and white. He was not by temperament
especially brave, and had never seen a shot fired, or a blow struck in
anger, with lethal weapon that is, in his life, and now the whiz and
impact of these humming missiles, any one of which might knock him into
the next world in less than a second, struck terror into his soul. So
too did the sight of those long bright blades in the grip of these
threatening savages, brawny of frame and ferocious of aspect, in their
wild and fantastic war-gear of cow-tails and monkey skins and variegated
hide. Not to put too fine a point upon it, he was badly scared, and,
what was worse, looked all that.

"Here--hi! Hold up!" cried Lamont, as ducking spasmodically to avoid a
bullet that had whizzed nearly a yard over his head Ancram cannoned
violently against him. "Confound it, you've upset all my `peg,' which
is a waste of good liquor. Never mind, there's plenty more,
fortunately. You'd better have another yourself, Ancram."

"Er--ah--I think I had."

But the hand that held his glass trembled so violently that he spilled
nearly half of what he had just mixed for himself. At the same time
Peters burst into a roar of laughter, but not at this.

"There's a nigger," he explained, "who keeps bobbing his head round a
stone, but he's in too much of a funk to keep it there; and the
expression on his face as he bobs it back again is enough to kill a
cat."

Ancram stared, and gave a sickly grin. He couldn't have raised a
spontaneous laugh then--no not to save his life. Yet these other two
were keenly enjoying the joke.

"They won't show in a hurry," said Lamont. "These magazine guns of ours
have put the fear of the Lord into them."

"Will they go away then, and leave us?" said Ancram eagerly.

"Not much. They'll lie low till it's dark. Then they'll have things
all their own way."

Ancram went pale again.

"But--but--D'you mean to say," he stammered, "that we shall be--at