Christobal heard ominous sounds from the fore part of the vessel. The revolver shooting had ceased, for the convincing reason there were no more cartridges. Courtenay’s double barrelled gun was being fired as quickly as he could reload it, and the sharp snap of one of the rifles in the Indians’ possession was recognizable as coming from the poop, the remaining marksmen having preferred to fire wildly from their canoes. But Christobal knew that a deadly struggle was in progress on the fore deck. Tollemache, Frascuelo, and three Chileans were engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with nearly a score of savages; the doctor could distinguish the cries of the combatants, the irregular stamping of boot-shod feet. He wondered why the girl, with her acute senses, did not grasp the significance of the yells and trampling on the deck, until it occurred to him, with a quick pang, that she was listening for one voice alone; owing to her ignorance of the desperate nature of the conflict raging overhead she had ears for nothing further. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked at him. There was a gravity in his eyes, which startled her. “Elsie,” he said, “you believe in the efficacy of prayer, don’t you? Well, then, pray now a little. I shall be glad to think, when this time of danger has passed, that we owed something to your invocation.” It was in his mind that he must shoot her within a few seconds, and the immeasurable agony of the thought reflected itself in his face. He had no notion that she would give his words a more direct significance than he intended them to bear. But a strange, hoarse yell of triumph, the war-cry of an Alaculof leader who had hauled himself to the bridge and found it undefended, warned her in the same moment that all was not well with the defense. She sprang towards the saloon stairs. “Do you hear that?” she cried in a ringing voice. “There are Indians on board. Come! We must not stay here when our friends are fighting for their lives.” Christobal knew that this active girl would readily outstrip him in a race to the deck. She was already several feet distant, but he must detain her, no matter what the cost; if she fell into the clutches of the ghouls then over-running the _Kansas_, she might not be killed, but only wounded, and her sufferings would be inconceivable ere the end came. “You are wrong,” he shouted with convincing vehemence. “But, if you wish to see for yourself, at least allow me to go first.” While he was speaking, he ran forward. She thought he meant what he said, and waited for him. Then he caught her right arm firmly in his left hand. “Let us wait here a moment or two,” he breathed.