When he gained the top of the slope and looked over, he found that he was still too far away to see anything clearly. The attack was not being made on the side towards which he was gazing. He was on the point of rushing forward, when he saw several dark forms running round the base of the wall. Though he longed to assist his friend, it was clear that he could not run the gauntlet through these armed negroes, and he sank back, filled with great anxiety. The firing ceased, but the shouts continued for a time. Then again there was silence, and he saw with unspeakable thankfulness that the Tubus had disappeared. "Well done!" he thought. "It will soon be dark, and then----" John slipped up quietly behind him. * * * * * Meanwhile Royce and his men were resting after their victory. Never had a fight been won at so small a cost. Many of the men had been injured by the Tubus' clubbed rifles, some had spear wounds; but none had been killed, and with care all the wounded would recover. Royce praised the men for their sturdy defence, and told them he hoped the enemy would trouble them no more. But in his heart he was far from confident. An ordinary raiding party of negroes would long since have abandoned the struggle, but in Goruba these men had no ordinary leader. He had shown himself possessed of exceptional courage and resource, and--what is still rarer in the negro--resolution. While he was with them they would not give up, Royce felt sure. He wished that he could have disposed of Goruba; but when, after the fight, he mounted the wall at the point where the giant had fallen and looked for him, rifle in hand, he was not to be seen. Kulana managed to provide a meal from the remains of the burnt provisions, but it was the last. The men knew it, and though Royce spoke cheerily, he could see that they were depressed, in spite of their victory. Unless relief came, they would be face to face with starvation if the siege were maintained, and of relief there was no sign. When darkness fell Royce posted the sentries as usual, and looked anxiously down the hill to see whether the enemy were still encamped below. His hope that they had withdrawn was dashed by the appearance of their fires in the usual quarters; they still formed almost a complete ring round the hill. Reckoning up the chances for the hundredth time, Royce realised that, although a sally from the fort might break through the ring, the enemy would follow them up on their horses and, in the open country, overwhelm them. "It's no go," he thought with gloomy foreboding. "Poor old Tom! What has become of him?" As he sat resting his chin on his hand, Gambaru came up with two or three of the Hausas. "Well, what is it?" asked Royce. "Massa Chally nebber come, sah," said Gambaru in a mournful tone. "Well? You have something else to say?" Gambaru hesitated for a moment.