Onward the two stumbled toward the point from which the single
rifle shot had come. The black was unarmed--Baynes, fearing his
loyalty had not dared trust him even to carry the rifle which the
white man would have been glad to be relieved of many times upon
the long march; but now that they were approaching their goal, and
knowing as he did that hatred of Malbihn burned hot in the black
man's brain, Baynes handed him the rifle, for he guessed that there
would be fighting--he intended that there should, or he had come
to avenge. Himself, an excellent revolver shot, would depend upon
the smaller weapon at his side.
As the two forged ahead toward their goal they were startled by a
volley of shots ahead of them. Then came a few scattering reports,
some savage yells, and silence. Baynes was frantic in his endeavors
to advance more rapidly, but there the jungle seemed a thousand
times more tangled than before. A dozen times he tripped and
fell. Twice the black followed a blind trail and they were forced
to retrace their steps; but at last they came out into a little
clearing near the big afi--a clearing that once held a thriving
village, but lay somber and desolate in decay and ruin.
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