As he uttered the word the young officer was recalling the fact that this made two shots, and he felt that in all probability there were four more to come. His hand was busy as well as his head, for he struck out again and again in an effort to get hold of the pistol; but he could not prevent the firing of another shot, which struck the rock beside him with a loud pat. "Ha!" cried Dickenson in a tone full of satisfaction; "got you!" For his efforts in the darkness had been at last rewarded by his fingers coming in contact with the barrel of the little weapon, which he clasped tightly and held on to, in spite of jerk and snatch, feeling the barrel heat as it was fired again, and again, and again, but with the muzzle forced upward so that the bullets flew harmlessly away. "That's better," growled Dickenson. "Now, you spiteful savage, will you give up--will you surrender?" A savage growling was the only answer. "You brute!" muttered Dickenson. "'Pon my word, if it wasn't for poor old Drew I believe I should let you go over, and see how you liked that.--Here, Drew," he cried aloud, "how is it? What are you doing?" "Holding his left hand down. He has got hold of my revolver." "Bless him for a beauty! Can you stop him?" "I don't know yet; I'm so awkwardly situated. Can you keep us from going over?" "Oh yes, I can do that. Here, I've got at my six-shooter now; hold still, and I'll put something through his head." "No, no; we must take him alive," cried Lennox. "It's all very fine, but he's going to take us dead. Better let me cripple him. Shall I light a match?" "No, no. I've got tight hold of his wrist now, so that he can't use my revolver. Ha! Look out!" "I shall have to shoot him," cried Dickenson; for, foiled in his effort to get hold of the fresh weapon, the man began to struggle again fiercely, heaving himself up and wrenching himself to right and left in a way that threatened to result in the whole party going over into the black gulf below. Lennox uttered another warning cry. "Take care?" growled Dickenson. "Who's to take care in the dark? Here, tell the brute in Dutch that if he doesn't give up I'll send a bullet through his head. He doesn't seem to understand plain English." "Yes, he does, for he spoke in English just now." This was too true, for just then the prisoner suddenly yelled out, "Dirck! Dirck! Help! The cursed rooineks have got me down." "Oho! Then there are more than one of you, my beauty!" cried Dickenson. "Now then, this is a gag; hold still or I'll pull the trigger." There was a clinking sound caused by the rattling of the desperate prisoner's teeth against the barrel of the pistol which Dickenson thrust into his mouth just as he was about to speak. But he wrenched his head round and began to struggle again so desperately that Lennox's temper got the upper hand and he began to grow merciless to a degree that tempted him to bid his comrade fire.