The vibrating, humming hiss--it must be remembered that the vowel is sounded as in every other language under the sun but the English--the deep-chested, ferocious gasp, split the air as the panting mules galloped furiously between the overhanging rocks and trees--which were now alive with swarming savages. Wyndham, cool and brave, kept all his attention centred on his team, for did that fail him--why then, good-night! Clare, with set lips, covered a huge savage who had sprung up hardly ten yards distant to launch an assegai, and pressed the trigger. The brown, bedizened body sprang heavily forward, throwing shield and weapons different ways, and sank, but the pallor of her face at the sight only served to heighten the brightness of her eyes. Fullerton, leaning out, pumped a couple of shots in a lucky moment into where three or four assailants rose together, likewise with fortunate result. Then an assegai whizzed through the upper part of the waggon tilt, while another struck one of the mules in the hinder quarters, and started the poor brute kicking and squealing in such wise as nearly to stampede the whole team and get it completely out of hand. Added to which some of the police horses were prancing and shying, and rendering it all that their riders could do to stick on, let alone use their weapons. Quick to perceive their advantage, the Matabele warriors swarmed down the rocks, or leapt upward from among the bushes, redoubling the volume of their vibrating, ferocious war-hiss--dancing, leaping, clashing their axes and shields together; in short, raising a most demoniacal and indescribable din. Fullerton, watching his side of the vehicle, was cool enough and had his full share of pluck, but he was a lamentable revolver shot, and, after three bad misses, the assailants became alive to the fact, and began to run in closer with more confidence. "Damn this thing!" he yelled, in his excitement and mortification. "It has a pull off you'd require a steam crane to move. Clare, give me yours." "No," she answered shortly. And at the same moment two warriors sprang up behind a rock and quick as lightning hurled their casting assegais-- not at their human enemies, but at the mule team. Struck in the shoulder, one poor mule stumbled and plunged wildly, and only the fact that Wyndham was a first-rate whip performed the miracle that prevented it from falling entirely. Then taking advantage of the confusion, several warriors, their shields covering them, the broad stabbing spear uplifted, charged forward to stab the leaders, and thus have the whole outfit at their mercy. But they reckoned without Clare Vidal.