om some prehistoric manual, slung
their rifles on their shoulders and came on. The fire from the fort did
not stop them, though it broke their line. In a minute they were
clutching at every hand-grip and foothold on the wall, and Andover with
a beaming face directed the disposition of his men.

Forza is built of great, rough stones, with ends projecting in places
cyclopean-wise, which to an active man might give a foothold. The
little garrison was at its posts, and picked the men off with carbines
and revolvers, and in emergencies gave a brown chest the straight
bayonet-thrust home. The tribesmen fought like fiends, scrambling up
silently with long knives between their teeth, till a shot found them
and they rolled back to die on the sand at the foot. Now and again
a man would reach the parapet and spring down into the courtyard. Then
it was the turn of Andover and Lewis to account for him, and they did
not miss. One man with matted hair and beard was at Lewis's back before
he saw him. A crooked knife had nearly found that young man's neck, but
a lucky twisting aside saved him. He dodged his adversary up and down
the yard till he got his pistol from his inner pocket. Then it was his
turn to face about. The man never stopped and a ball took him between
the eyes. He dropped dead as a stone, and his knife flying from his
hand skidded along the sand till it stopped with a clatter on the
stones. The sound in the hot sulphurous air grated horribly, and Lewis
clapped his hands to his ears to find that he too had not come off
scathless. The knife had cut the lobe, and, bleeding like a pig, he
went in search of water.

The assailants seemed prepared to find paradise speedily, for they were
not sparing with their lives. The attacking party was small, and
apparently there was no reserve, for in all the wide landscape there was
no sign of man. Then for no earthly reason the assault was at an end.
One by one the men dropped back and disappeared from the plateau. There
was no overt signal, no sound; but in a little the annoyed garrison were
looking at vacancy and one another.

"This is the devil's own business," said Andover, rubbing his eyes. The
men, too astonished to pick off stragglers, allowed the enemy to melt
into space; then they set themselves down with rifles cuddled up to
their chins, and stared at Andover.

"It beats me," said that disturbed man. "How many killed?"

"Seven," said a sergeant. "About five more wounded.