They had only time to thank the young chief for his courtesy and take their places, as the march back was commenced--this time without guides, for none came forward, which was looked upon as so ominous a sign that extra care was taken, the men marching with loaded arms. The precautions were not unnecessary; for they had hardly effected half their march, when there was the loud beating of a gong heard upon their right, followed by the same deafening din on the left. The men were steadied in the ranks, and every one was on the alert; but still there came nothing more to cause alarm till they had arrived within half a mile of their landing-place, when, as they were passing through a more open portion of the track, there was a shout, and a shower of limbings came whizzing past them. Again a shout, this time on their left, and another shower of the keenly-pointed spears whizzed by. There was a short, sharp command or two as the soldiers faced outwards, and every other man fired, sending a ringing volley crashing through the forest. There was another din, made by the beating of gongs, and a few more spears were thrown, one of which struck Ensign Long; and these were replied to by another sharp volley, which crashed through the trees, making the twigs and leaves rattle as they pattered down. Then there was a dead silence, as the troops waited for fresh orders. Bob Roberts, who was close by the ensign, turned pale as ashes as he saw the ensign stagger back, to stand literally pinned to a tree, in which the blade of the limbing had buried itself. All feeling of jealousy had passed away, and, catching Long by the hand, he gazed earnestly in his face. "Are you much hurt, old fellow?" he cried hoarsely, as he realised the fact that the keen spear had passed diagonally through the youth's breast before it buried itself in the soft endogenous tree. "I don't know yet," said Tom Long quietly; "but the brutes have ruined my best tunic." "Hang your tunic!" cried Bob, excitedly. "Here, fetch the doctor. No; help here to get Mr Long to the residency. Bring up a dhooly." "I suppose I shall feel it when they draw out the spear," said Tom Long calmly. "Do you feel faint?" cried the middy. "Here, who has a little rack?" "Here's some water, sir, in my canteen," said Sergeant Lund. "Forward!" rang out from behind just then; and then the voice of Captain Smithers made itself heard,-- "Who's that down?" "Ensign Long, sir," some one said. "Poor lad! poor lad!" cried the captain. "Ah, Long, my dear boy, how is it with you? Good heavens! Quick, my lads; bring up a dhooly." "Hadn't we better get the spear out, sir?" said Bob Roberts, anxiously. "Yes, out of the tree, of course," said the captain; "but mind--steady! Here, let me. I won't hurt you more than I can help," he continued, as he drew the spear out of the palm, and then hesitated as to how they were to manage to carry the injured man, with the lengthy shaft passing through his chest.