"Leg," was the laconic reply. "Never mind," cried the first sailor. "Come, on, mate." He lowered his piece again, and the two rushed upon Bart and Abel, as brave as lions now in the excitement. These two had taken advantage of the man being wounded to back rapidly toward the boat, lying in the shallow water; but the sand was heavy, and they had to face the enemy all the time. For the latter came at them with stubborn determination, reached them while they were a good twenty yards from the water, and a fierce fight ensued. It was as brief as it was hot and determined, for, after a few moments' fencing, the second sailor delivered a deadly thrust, at Abel; while the principal man, a sturdy, tall fellow, crossed weapons with Bart, whose slight bamboo lance was a feeble defence against the bayonet at the end of the musket. Moreover, the fugitives were fighting with the disadvantage of being seen now by the well-armed party returning from the hunt. These had received warning that something was wrong by hearing the shots, and were now running rapidly down toward the sandy shore. "Now," said the second sailor, presenting his piece, which was opposed to one minus the bayonet blade--"now I have you. Surrender!" For answer Abel stepped back, clubbed his weapon, swung it round, and brought it down with such violence that the butt struck the other musket full upon the stock, and dashed it from its holder's hand. Before Abel could get another blow round, the man had dashed in, closed with him, and, to Jack's agony, capture seemed certain. Meantime the first sailor had made several fierce passes at Bart, who was scratched once upon the wrist, and had drawn blood on the other side, when his bamboo lance broke, and he seemed at the mercy of his antagonist. Heavy as he was, Bart was activity itself, and reversing the encounter going on between the other two, he avoided a thrust by striking the bayonet aside with his arm, and closed with his adversary. The two locked together in a desperate struggle directly, for the sailor abandoned his musket as soon as Bart was at close quarters, and gripped him round the waist. "I'll have you, anyhow," he panted, as he lifted Bart from the ground. "Let go, or I'll crush in your ribs," growled Bart, savagely. "Do it, mate," retorted the sailor, swinging Bart round, and trying to throw him; but he might as well have tried to throw off his arms. Then by a desperate wrench Bart loosened the other's grip, so that he could touch ground once more, and the struggle went on like some desperate bout in wrestling.