[Illustration: Ralph's Winchester cracked and the raised arm fell
shattered and useless.]
The attacked villagers, inspirited by the assistance they were
receiving, fought with renewed energy.
In those days repeating breech loaders were much less commonly used
than in more recent years. The savages became terror stricken at guns
which seemed to be always loaded.
A final and despairing yell gave the signal for retreat, and in a
moment or two more, none of the enemy were to be seen, except the dead
and wounded left behind.
Our three adventurers were then overwhelmed by the rude but expressive
manifestations of thanks on the part of the villagers. The wounded
were soon despatched, and it became evident to Duff, who partially
understood their practices, that a cannibal feast would be next in
order.
The very idea sickened Ralph, though Ben announced that he had no
objections to see one "black nigger eat up another."
"Well, we have, if you haven't," said Duff, "so, as it is pretty near
day and we're loaded, I think we had better be getting back to the
ship, Captain's in a hurry to leave the coast anyhow."
But when the natives heard of this determination, they one and all
tried to persuade the whites to remain at least until day. The
red-shirted chief pleaded almost with tears, in the very few words of
English at his command.
"You--me--brothers!" He pointed from Duff to himself. "You--stay.
All--stay. Eat War-i-ka-ri much; eat--heap!"
But when he found that all persuasion was useless, he bade his people
fill the yawl with vegetables and such meat as was on hand.
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