A GHOST--A TERRIBLE COMBAT ENDING IN A DREADFUL PLUNGE.
"Corrie," said Jo Bumpus, solemnly, with a troubled expression on his
grave face, "I've heer'd a many a cry in this life, both ashore and
afloat; but, since I was half as long as a marlinespike, I've never
heerd the likes o' that there screech nowhere."
At any other time the boy would have expressed a doubt as to the
possibility of the Grampus having, at any period of his existence, been
so short as "half the length of a marlinespike;" but, being very
imaginative by nature, and having been encouraged to believe in ghosts
by education, he was too frightened to be funny. With a face that might
very well have passed for that of a ghost, and a very pale ghost too, he
said, in a tremulous voice:
"Oh dear! Bumpus; what _shall_ we do?"
"Dun know," replied Jo, very sternly; for the stout mariner also
believed in ghosts, as a matter of course, although he would not admit
it; and, being a man of iron mold and powerful will, there was at that
moment going on within his capacious breast a terrific struggle between
natural courage and supernatural cowardice.
"Let's go back," whispered Corrie. "I know another pass over the hills.
It's a longer one, to be sure; but we can run, you know, to make for--"
He was struck dumb and motionless at this point by the recurrence of the
dreadful howling, louder than ever, as poor Poopy's despair deepened.
"Don't speak to me, boy," said Bumpus, still more sternly, while a cold
sweat stood in large beads on his pale forehead. "Here's wot I calls
somethin' new; an' it becomes a man, specially a British seaman, d'ye
see, to inquire into new things in a reasonable sort of way."
Jo caught his breath, and clutched the rock beside him powerfully, as he
continued:
"It ain't a ghost, in course; it _can't_ be that. Cause why? there's no
sich a thing as a ghost."
"Ain't there?" whispered Corrie, hopefully.
The hideous yell that Poopy here set up seemed to give the lie direct to
the skeptical seaman; but he went on deliberately, though with a glazed
eye and a deathlike pallor on his face--
"No; there ain't no ghosts,--never wos, an' never will be. All ghosts is
sciencrific dolusions, nothing more; and it's only the hignorant an'
supercilious as b'lieves in 'em. I don't; an', wots more," added Jo,
with tremendous decision, "I _won't_!"
At this point, the "sciencrific dolusion" recurred to her former idea of
alarming the settlement; and with this view began to retrace her steps,
howling as she went.
Of course, as Jo and his small companion had been guided by her
footsteps, it followed that Poopy, in retracing them, gradually drew
near to the terrified pair. The short twilight of those regions had
already deepened into the shades of night; so that the poor girl's form
was not at first visible, as she advanced from among the dark shadows of
the overhanging cliffs and the large masses of scattered rock that lay
strewn about that wild mountain pass.
Now, although John Bumpus succeeded, by an almost supernatural effort,
in calming the tumultuous agitation of his spirit, while the wild cries
of the girl were at some distance, he found himself utterly bereft of
speech when the dreadful sounds unmistakably approached him. Corrie,
too, became livid, and both were rooted to the spot in unutterable
horror; but when the ghost at length actually came into view, and (owing
to Poopy's body being dark, and her garments white) presented the
appearance of a dimly luminous creature, without head, arms, or legs,
the last spark of endurance in man and boy went out. The one gave a
roar, the other a shriek of terror, and both turned and fled like the
wind over a stretch of country, which, in happier circumstances, they
would have crossed with caution.
Poopy helped to accelerate their flight by giving vent to a cry of fear,
and thereafter to a yell of delight, as, from her point of view, she
recognized the well-known outline of Corrie's figure clearly defined
against the sky. She ran after them in frantic haste; but she might as
well have chased a couple of wildcats. Either terror is gifted with
better wings than hope, or males are better runners than females.
Perhaps both propositions are true; but certain it is that Poopy soon
began to perceive that the succor which had appeared so suddenly was
about to vanish almost as quickly.
In this new dilemma, the girl once more availed herself of her slight
knowledge of the place, and made a detour which enabled her to shoot
ahead of the fugitives and intercept them in one of the narrowest parts
of the mountain gorge. Here, instead of using her natural voice, she
conceived that the likeliest way of making her terrified friends
understand who she was, would be to shout with all the strength of her
lungs. Accordingly, she planted herself suddenly in the center of their
path, just as the two came tearing blindly round a corner of rock, and
set up a series of yells, the nature of which utterly beggars
description.
The result was, that, with one short wild cry of renewed horror, Bumpus
and Corrie turned sharp round and fled in the opposite direction.
There is no doubt whatever that they would have succeeded in ultimately
escaping from this pertinacious ghost, and poor Poopy would have had to
make the best of her way to Sandy Cove alone, but for the fortunate
circumstance that Corrie fell; and being only a couple of paces in
advance of his companion, Bumpus fell over him.
The ghost took advantage of this to run forward, crying out, "Corrie!
Corrie! Corrie!--it's me! _me_! ME!" with all her might.
"Eh! I do believe it knows my name!" cried the boy, scrambling to his
feet, and preparing to renew his flight; but Bumpus laid his heavy hand
on his collar, and held him fast.
"Wot! Did it speak?"
"Yes; listen! Oh dear! Come,--fly!"
Instead of flying, the seaman heaved a deep sigh; and, sitting down on a
rock, took out a reddish brown cotton handkerchief, wherewith he wiped
his forehead.
"My boy," said he, still panting; "it ain't a ghost. No ghost wos ever
known to _speak_. They looks, an' they runs, an' they yells, an' they
vanishes, but they never speaks; d'ye see? I told ye it was a
sciencrific dolusion; though, I'm bound for to confess, I never heerd
o' von o' them critters speakin', no more than the ghosts. Howsomedever,
that's wot it is."
Corrie, who still hesitated, and held himself in readiness to bolt at a
moment's notice, suddenly cried:
"Why! I _do_ believe it's--No; it can't be--yes--I say, it's _Poopy_."
"Wot's Poopy?" inquired the seaman, in some anxiety.
"What! don't you know Poopy, Alice's black maid, who keeps her company,
and looks after her; besides' doin' her and 'undoin' her (as she calls
it), night and morning, and putting her to bed? Hooray! Poopy, my lovely
black darling; where _have_ you come from? You've frightened Bumpus here
nearly out of his wits. I do believe he'd have bin dead by this time,
but for me!"
So saying, Corrie, in the revulsion of his suddenly relieved feelings,
actually threw his arms round Poopy, and hugged her.
"O Corrie!" exclaimed the girl, submitting to the embrace with as much
indifference as if she had been a lamp-post, "w'at troble you hab give
me! Why you run so? sure you know me voice."
"Know it, my sweet lump of charcoal; I'd know it among a thousand, if
ye'd only use it in its own pretty natural tones; but if you _will_ go
and screech like a bottle-imp, you know," said Corrie, remonstratively,
"how can you expect a stupid feller like me to recognize it?"
"There ain't no sich things as bottle-imps, no more nor ghosts,"
observed Bumpus; "but hold your noise, you chatterbox, and let's hear
wot the gal's got to say. Mayhap she knows summat about Alice?"
At this, Poopy manufactured an expression on her sable countenance which
was meant to be intensely knowing and suggestive.
"Don't I? Yes, me do," said she.
"Out with it, then, at once, you pot of shoe-blacking," cried the
impatient Corrie.
The girl immediately related all that she knew regarding the fugitives,
stammering very much from sheer anxiety to get it all out as fast as she
could, and delaying her communication very much in consequence, besides
rendering her meaning rather obscure--sometimes unintelligible. Indeed,
the worthy seaman could scarcely understand a word she said. He sat
staring at the whites of her eyes, which, with her teeth, were the only
visible parts of her countenance at that moment, and swayed his body to
and fro, as if endeavoring by a mechanical effort to arrive at a
philosophical conception of something exceedingly abstruse. But at the
end of each period he turned to Corrie for a translation.
At length both man and boy became aware of the state of things, and
Corrie started up crying:
"Let's go into the cave at once."
"Hold on, boy," cried Bumpus! "not quite so fast (as the monkey said to
the barrel-organ w'en it took to playin' Scotch reels). We must have a
council of war; d'ye see? The black monster Keona may have gone right
through the cave and comed out at t'other end of it, in w'ich case it's
all up with our chance o' finding 'em to-night. But if they've gone in
to spend the night there, why we've nothing to do but watch at the mouth
of it till mornin' an' nab 'em as they comes out."
"Yes; but how are we to know whether they're in the cave or not?" said
Corrie, impatiently.
"Ah! that's the puzzler," replied Bumpus, in a meditative way; "but of
course, we must look out for puzzlers ahead sometimes w'en we gets into
a land storm, d'ye see; just as we looks out ahead for breakers in a
storm at sea. Suppose now that I creeps into the cave and listens for
'em. They'd never hear me, 'cause I'd make no noise."
"You might as well try to sail into it in a big ship without making
noise, you Grampus."
To this the Grampus observed, that if the cave had only three fathoms of
water in the bottom of it he would have no objections whatever to try.
"But," added he, "suppose _you_ go in."
Corrie shook his head, and looked anxiously miserable.
"Well, then," said Bumpus, "suppose we light two torches. I'll take one
in one hand, and this here cutlash in the other; and you'll take t'other
torch in one hand and your pistol in the other, and clap that bit of a
broken sword 'tween yer teeth, and we'll give a 'orrid screech, and rush
in, pell-mell--all of a heap like. You could fire yer pistol straight
before you on chance (it's wonderful wot a chance shot will do
sometimes); an' if it don't do nothin', fling it right into the
blackguard's face: a brass-mounted tool like that ketchin' him right on
the end of his peak would lay him flat over, like a ship in a white
squall."
"And suppose," said Corrie, in a tone of withering sarcasm,--"suppose
all this happened to Alice, instead of the dirty nigger?"
"Ah! to be sure. That's a puzzler,--puzzler number two."
Here Poopy, who had listened with great impatience to the foregoing
conversation, broke in energetically.
"An' s'pose," said she, "dat Keona and Missy Alice come out ob cave w'en
you two be talkerin' sich a lot of stuff?"
It may as well be remarked, in passing, that Poopy had acquired a
considerable amount of her knowledge of English from Master Corrie. Her
remark, although not politely made, was sufficiently striking to cause
Bumpus to start up, and exclaim:
"That's true, gal. Come, show us the way to this here cave."
There was a fourth individual present at this council of war who
apparently felt a deep interest in its results, although he took no part
in its proceedings. This was no other than Keona himself, who lay
extended at full length among the rocks, not two yards from the spot
where Bumpus sat, listening intently, and grinning from ear to ear with
fiendish malice.
The series of shrieks, howls, and yells to which reference has been made
had naturally attracted the attention of that wily savage when he was in
the cave. Following the sounds with quick, noiseless step, he soon found
himself within a few paces of the deliberating trio. The savage did not
make much of the conversation, but he gathered sufficient to assure
himself that his hiding-place had been discovered, and that plans were
being laid for his capture.
It would have been an easy matter for him to have suddenly leaped on the
unsuspecting Bumpus and driven a knife to his heart, after which poor
Corrie and the girl could have been easily dealt with; but fortunately
(at least for his enemies, if not for himself) indecision in the moment
of action was one of Keona's besetting sins. He suspected that other
enemies might be near at hand, and that the noise of the scuffle might
draw them to the spot. He observed, moreover, that the boy had a pistol,
which, besides being a weapon that acts quickly and surely, even in weak
hands, would give a loud report and a bright flash that might be heard
and seen at a great distance. Taking these things into consideration, he
thrust back the knife which he had half unsheathed, and, retreating with
the slow, gliding motion of a serpent, got beyond the chance of being
detected, just as Bumpus rose to follow Poopy to the cave.
The savage entered its yawning mouth in a few seconds, and glided
noiselessly into its dark recesses like an evil spirit. Soon after, the
trio reached the same spot, and stood for some time silently gazing upon
the thick darkness within.
A feeling of awe crept over them as they stood thus, and a shudder
passed through Corrie's frame as he thought of the innumerable ghosts
that might--probably did--inhabit that dismal place. But the thought of
Alice served partly to drive away his fears and steel his heart. He felt
that the presence of such a sweet and innocent child _must_, somehow or
other, subdue and baffle the power of evil spirits, and it was with some
show of firmness that he said:
"Come, Bumpus, let's go in. We are better without a torch; it would only
show that we were coming; and as they don't expect us, the savage may
perhaps kindle a light which will guide us."
Bumpus, who was not restrained by any thoughts of the supposed power or
influence of the little girl, and whose superstitious fears were again
doing furious battle with his natural courage, heaved a deep sigh,
ground his teeth together, and clenched his fists.
Even in that dreadful hour the seaman's faith in his physical
invincibility, and in the terrible power of his fists, did not
altogether fail. Although he wore a cutlass, and had used it that day
with tremendous effect, he did not now draw it. He preferred to engage
supernatural enemies with the weapons that nature had given him, and
entered the cave on tiptoe with slow, cautious steps, his fists tightly
clenched and ready for instant action, yet thrust into the pockets of
his coatee in a deceptively peaceful way, as if he meant to take the
ghosts by surprise.
Corrie followed him, also on tiptoe, with the broken saber in his right
hand, and the cocked pistol in his left, his forefinger being on the
trigger, and the muzzle pointing straight at the small of the seaman's
back,--if one may be permitted to talk of such an enormous back having
any "small" about it!
Poopy entered last, also on tiptoe, trembling violently, holding on with
both hands to the waistband of Corrie's trousers, and only restrained
from instant flight by her anxieties and her strong love for little
Alice.
Thus, step by step, with bated breath and loudly beating hearts, pausing
often to listen, and gasping in a subdued way at times, the three
friends advanced from the gloom without into the thick darkness within,
until their gliding forms were swallowed up.
Now it so happened that the shouts and yells to which we have more than
once made reference in this chapter attracted a band of savages who had
been put to flight by Henry Stuart's party. These rascals, not knowing
what was the cause of so much noise up on the heights, and being much
too well acquainted with the human voice in all its modifications to
fancy that ghosts had anything to do with it, cautiously ascended
towards the cavern, just a few minutes after the disappearance of John
Bumpus and his companions.
Here they sat down to hold a palaver. While this was going on, Keona
carried Alice in his unwounded arm to the other end of the cave, and,
making his exit through a small opening at its inner extremity, bore his
trembling captive to a rocky eminence, shaped somewhat like a sugarloaf,
on the summit of which he placed her. So steep were the sides of this
cone of lava, that it seemed to Alice that she was surrounded by
precipices over which she must certainly tumble if she dared to move.
Here Keona left her, having first, however, said, in a low, stern voice:
"If you moves, you dies!"
The poor child was too much terrified to move, even had she dared; for
she, too, had heard the unaccountable cries of Poopy, although, owing to
distance and the wild nature of these cries, she had failed to recognize
the voice. When, therefore, her jailer left her with this threat, she
coiled herself up in the smallest possible space, and began to sob.
Meanwhile, Keona re-entered the cavern, with a diabolical grin on his
sable countenance, which, although it savored more of evil than of any
other quality, had in it, nevertheless, a strong dash of ferocious
joviality, as if he were aware that he had got his enemies into a trap,
and could amuse himself by playing with them as a cat does with a
mouse.
Soon the savage began to step cautiously, partly because of the rugged
nature of the ground and the thick darkness that surrounded him, and
partly in order to avoid alarming the three adventurers who were
advancing towards him from the other extremity of the cavern. In a few
minutes he halted; for the footsteps and the whispering voices of his
pursuers became distinctly audible to him, although all three did their
best to make as little noise as possible.
"Wot a 'orrid place it is!" exclaimed Bumpus, in a hoarse, angry
whisper, as he struck his shins violently, for at least the tenth time,
against a ledge of rock. "I do b'lieve, boy, that there's nobody here,
and that we'd as well 'bout ship and steer back the way we've comed;
tho' it _is_ a 'orrible coast for rocks and shoals."
To this, Corrie, not being in a talkative humor, made no reply.
"D'ye hear me, boy?" said Jo, aloud, for he was somewhat shaken again by
the dead silence that followed the close of his remark.
"All right; I'm here;" said Corrie, meekly.
"Then why don't ye speak?" said Jo, tartly.
"I'd advise _you_ not to speak so loud," retorted the boy.
"Is the dark 'un there?" inquired Bumpus.
"What d'ye say?"
"The dark 'un; the lump o' charcoal, you know."
"Oh! she's all safe," replied Corrie. "I only hope she won't haul the
clothes right off my body; she grips at my waistband like a--"
Here he was cut short by Keona, who gave utterance to a low, dismal wail
that caused the blood and marrow of all three to freeze up, and their
hearts for a moment to leap into their throats and all but choke them.
"Poopy's gone," gasped Corrie, after a few seconds had elapsed.
There was no doubt of the fact; for besides the relief experienced by
the boy, from the relaxing of her grip on his waistband, the moment the
wail was heard, the sound of the girl's footsteps, as she flew back to
the entrance of the cave was distinctly heard.
Keona waited a minute or two to ascertain the exact position of his
enemies, then he repeated the wail, and swelled it gradually out into a
fiendish yell that awoke all the echoes of the place. At the same time,
guessing his aim as well as he could, he threw a spear and discharged a
shower of stones at the spot where he supposed they stood.
There is no understanding the strange workings of the human mind! The
very thing that most people would have expected to strike terror to the
heart of Bumpus was that which infused courage into his soul. The
frightful tones of the savage's voice in such a place did indeed almost
prostrate the superstitious spirit of the seaman; but when he heard the
spear whiz past within an inch of his ear, and received a large stone
full on his chest, and several small ones on other parts of his person,
that instant his strength returned to him, like that of Samson when the
Philistines attempted to fall upon him. His curiously philosophical mind
at once leaped to the conclusion that, although ghosts could yell, and
look, and vanish, they could not throw spears or fling stones, and that,
therefore, the man they were in search of was actually close beside
them.
Acting on this belief, with immense subtlety Bumpus uttered a cry of
feigned terror, and fled, followed by the panting Corrie, who uttered a
scream of real terror at what he supposed must be the veritable ghost of
the place.
But before he had run fifty yards, John Bumpus suddenly came to a dead
halt, seized Corrie by the collar, dragged him down behind a rock, and
laid his large hand upon his mouth, as being the shortest and easiest
way of securing silence, without the trouble of explanation.
As he had anticipated, the soft tread of the savage was heard almost
immediately after, as he passed on in full pursuit. He brushed close
past the spot where Bumpus crouched, and received from that able-bodied
seaman such a blow on the shoulder of his wounded arm as, had it been
delivered in daylight, would have certainly smashed his shoulder-blade.
As it was, it caused him to stagger, and sent him howling with pain to
the mouth of the cavern, whither he was followed by the triumphant Jo,
who now made sure of catching him.
But "there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." When Keona issued
from the cave, he was received with a shout by the band of savages, who
instantly recognized him as their friend by his voice. Poor Poopy was
already in their hands, having been seized and gagged when she emerged
before she had time to utter a cry. And now they stood in a semicircle,
ready to receive all who might come forth into their arms, or on their
spear-points, as the case might be.
Bumpus came out like an insane thunderbolt, and Corrie like a streak of
lightning. Instantaneously the flash of the pistol, accompanied by its
report and a deep growl from Bumpus, increased the resemblance to these
meteorological phenomena, and three savages lay stunned upon the
ground.
"This way, Corrie!" cried the excited seaman, leaping to a perpendicular
rock, against which he placed his back, and raised his fists in a
pugilistic attitude, "Keep one or two in play with your broken
toothpick, an' I'll floor 'em one after another as they comes up. Now,
then, ye black baboons, come on,--all at once, if you like,--an' Jo
Bumpus'll show ye wot he's made of!"
Not perceiving very clearly, in the dim light caused by a few stars that
flickered among the black and gathering clouds, the immense size and
power of the man with whom they had to deal, the savages were not slow
to accept this free and generous invitation to "come on." They rushed
forward in a body, intending, no doubt, to take the man and boy
prisoners; for if they had wished to slay them, nothing would have been
easier than to have thrown one or two of their spears at their
defenseless breasts.
Bumpus experienced a vague feeling that he had now a fair opportunity of
testing and proving his invincibility; yet the desperate nature of the
case did not induce him to draw his sword. He preferred his fists, as
being superior and much more handy weapons. He received the first two
savages who came within reach on the knuckles of his right and left
hands, rendering them utterly insensible, and driving them against the
two men immediately behind with such tremendous violence that they also
were put _hors de combat_.
This was just what Bumpus had intended and hoped for. The sudden 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 slap referred to, she immediately dried her eyes and
looked humble. But she did not by any means _feel_ humble. No; a regard
for truth compels us to state that, on this particular occasion, Poopy
acted the part of a hypocrite. If her hands had been loose, and she had
possessed a knife just then--we are afraid to think of the dreadful use
to which she would have put it.
The natives spent a considerable time in securely binding their three
captives, after which they bore them into the cavern.
Here they kindled a torch, and held a long palaver as to what was to be
done with the prisoners. Some counseled instant death, others advised
that they should be kept as hostages.
The debate was so long and fierce, that the day had begun to break
before it was concluded. It was at length arranged that they should be
conveyed alive to their village, there to be disposed of according to
the instructions of their chiefs.
Feeling that they had already delayed too long, they placed the
prisoners on their shoulders, and bore them swiftly away.
Poor Corrie and his sable friend were easily carried, coiled up like
sacks, each on the shoulders of a stalwart savage; but Bumpus, who had
required eight men to bind him, still remained unconvinced of his
vincibility. He struggled so violently on the shoulders of the four men
who bore him, that Keona, in a fit of passion, tinged no doubt with
revenge, hit him such a blow on the head with the handle of an ax as
caused his brains to sing, and a host of stars to dance before his eyes.
These stars were, however, purely imaginary; for at that time the dawn
had extinguished the lesser lights. Ere long, the bright beams of the
rising sun suffused the eastern sky with a golden glow. On passing the
place where Alice had been left, a couple of the party were sent by
Keona to fetch her. They took the unnecessary precaution of binding the
poor child, and speedily rejoined their comrades with her in their arms.
The amazement of her friends on seeing Alice was only equaled by her
surprise on beholding them. But they were not permitted to communicate
with each other. Presently the whole party emerged from the wild
mountain gorges, through which they had been passing for some time, and
proceeded in single file along a narrow path that skirted the precipices
of the coast. The cliffs here were nearly a hundred feet high. They
descended sheer down into deep water; in some places even overhung the
sea.
Here John Bumpus, having recovered from the stunning effects of the blow
dealt him by Keona, renewed his struggles, and rendered the passage of
the place not only difficult but dangerous--to himself as well as to
his enemies. Just as they reached a somewhat open space on the top of
the cliffs, Jo succeeded, by almost superhuman exertion in bursting his
bonds. Keona, foaming with rage, gave an angry order to his followers,
who rushed upon Bumpus in a body as he was endeavoring to clear himself
of the cords. Although John struck out manfully, the savages were too
quick for him. They raised him suddenly aloft in their arms, and hurled
him headlong over the cliff!
The horror of his friends on witnessing this may easily be imagined; but
every other feeling was swallowed up in terror when the savages,
apparently rendered bloodthirsty by what they had done, ran towards
Alice, and, raising her from the ground, hastened to the edge of the
cliff, evidently with the intention of throwing her over also.
Before they, had accomplished their fiendish purpose, however, a sound
like thunder burst upon their ears and arrested their steps. This was
immediately followed by another crash, and then came a series of single
reports in rapid succession, which were multiplied by the echoes of the
heights until the whole region seemed to tremble with the reverberation.
At first the natives seemed awe-stricken. Then, on becoming aware that
the sounds which originated all this tumult came from the direction of
their own village, they dropped Alice on the ground, fled precipitately
down the rugged path that led from the heights to the valley, and
disappeared, leaving the three captives, bound and helpless, on the
cliffs.