Here was a pretty kettle of fish! and occurring, too, at such a terribly inopportune moment. Yet, as Dick moodily reflected, while being ferried across to the mainland in one of Grosvenor's new, fast-sailing cutters, perhaps the moment might not be so very inopportune after all. It was a fact that, under the able leadership of Mokatto, the savages were pressing Izreel as it had never before been pressed within its recorded history. Izreel was now literally fighting for its life, its very existence; and if, through the help of the two Englishmen, the country should by any chance win out and achieve a decisive victory over her combined enemies, it was just possible that gratitude, that rarest of human sentiments, might take the form of forgiveness, if nothing more; in which case there was perhaps a bare possibility that Grosvenor and Dick might be released from their oath and permitted to return to their own country. But it was doubtful, Dick decided, very doubtful; and his meditations assumed a distinctly gloomy tone as, having arrived on the mainland, he hunted up Mafuta and explained to that jubilant savage that they were about to proceed to the front and take part in the fighting. To attempt anything even remotely resembling a detailed account of Dick Maitland's adventures during the ensuing three weeks would be impossible, for they were numerous and exciting enough to demand an entire volume to do justice to them. It must suffice to say that during that eventful period the youngster saw enough fighting to satisfy him for the remainder of his life--desperate, ferocious, hand-to-hand fighting, in which neither side ever dreamed of asking or giving quarter, in which a disabling wound was immediately followed by death upon the spear-points of the enemy, and the salient characteristics of which were continuous ear-splitting yells, the shrill whistling of the savages, the rumbling thunder of thousands of fiercely rushing feet, blinding clouds of dust through which there appeared a phantasmagoria of ferocious countenances, gnashing teeth, glaring eyeballs, the ruddy flash of ensanguined spear-points, hurtling knobkerries and whirling war-clubs, upthrown arms, clenched fists, reeling bodies, the shout of triumph and the short, quick gasp that followed the home-thrust of the stabbing spear. This was the kind of thing that marked the end of each day's fight when, the stock of the Izreelites, arrows being exhausted, it became necessary at last to evacuate a stubbornly held position and to retire before the overwhelming hordes of savages that, despite the frightful losses sustained by them in the course of each day's fighting, seemed daily to increase in numbers as the encircling cloud of them contracted with the daily retirement of the defenders towards the lake.