"All together!" shouted Ferrier. They poured in a volley, emptying both barrels; then, with John and Ferrier at the head, charged straight at the enemy. The savages, themselves taken aback by this sudden and vigorous onslaught, were too much flurried to discharge their weapons. While they still hesitated, the two white men were upon them, smiting right and left with the stocks of their rifles, their native followers close at their heels, making the air ring with their shouts. The savages immediately in the path of John and Ferrier went over like ninepins; a way was cleft through the group; several fell to the spears of the natives; the rest turned and fled right and left with wild yells, some plunging into the river, the others dashing towards their comrades in the plain. "Now for a sprint," cried John. "We’re not far from the bluff." They ran as fast as they could through the clinging undergrowth, emerged from cover when the rising ground told them that the end of their march was near at hand, and began to climb the steep ascent. The enemy, whose main body had hurried forward at the sound of firing in the expectation of finding their quarry engaged with the ambush, were driven frantic at the sight of their prey escaping them. Plucking up courage at last, they rushed forward in a yelling swarm, hoping to overcome the little party which had baffled them while it was still on the lower slope of the bluff, the path being so narrow that the climbers must go in single file. In a few brief sentences John ordered the bowmen to climb as quickly as possible, while with the rest he remained at the foot to check the rush. The enemy had come within two hundred yards before John and his companions had time to reload their rifles, which they had been unable to do during their dash through the undergrowth. But they came no nearer. A volley brought down several men in the front line of the mass, if the van of such a wild horde could be called a line. The rest wavered; while they hesitated the terrible bullets were again singing among them. It was enough: they broke and fled in disorder, sped by a flight of arrows from the men who had climbed the bluff and were able to shoot without the risk of injuring their friends below. "I think that’s the end," said John, panting as much with excitement as with his exertions. "Up you go, Coja!" They hastened up the path, Ferrier and John the last two of the line. When they reached the top, where their men were awaiting them, they halted to look back over the plain. "My word! you’ve done jolly well," cried John, as he saw the dusky throng halted below. "I had no idea there were so many of them. What happened, Charley?"