My pang of agony was accompanied by a feeling of rage against the cause
of it, and in blind fury I fired both barrels of my gun in the direction
of the Indians, almost at the same moment as my uncle and the carpenter
discharged theirs.
The reports were followed by another yell, the crashing of bushes and
ferns, and the sound as of men tearing away.
"Take care, Cross," cried my uncle. "Load again, and keep under cover.
Hah! there goes one of the treacherous hounds. Gone, and I'm not
loaded. Now I am. Not hurt, are you, Nat?"
"I'm afraid I am," I said, drawing in my breath with pain.
"Here, let's look," cried my uncle. "Keep under cover, Pete. I don't
want anyone else to be hurt. You, Cross, look out, and fire at the
first sign. Now, Nat, what is it? Tut, tut, tut! There, keep a good
heart, my lad. It has gone clean through your shoulder."
"Poisoned, uncle?" I cried anxiously.
"Pooh! Nonsense, boy! Hold still. It will not be a long operation."