Tom had not gone many yards when his attention was attracted by a rustling amongst the reeds, and looking round, his quick eyes espied several dark forms stealing down the watercourse towards the bivouac. He at once scented danger, but had the presence of mind not to show that he was alarmed; and turning coolly about he returned to his friends and informed them of what he had seen. Hardly had he given the alarm when thirty or forty dusky figures rushed down the donga and advanced with threatening gestures--brandishing their weapons and uttering loud cries of defiance. "Inspan, Patrick!" shouted Major Flinders to his servant as he seized his rifle. "We can keep these black rascals off until you are ready." In order that Keown and his assistant should have time to collect the few articles which had been unloaded from the carts (the Major was not the man to abandon any of his impedimenta) and inspan, it was necessary to meet the enemy in the open and take up a position between them and the carts. This of course somewhat exposed the little party; but Major Flinders was pretty well sure that his assailants belonged to a roving tribe--half Bosjesmans, half Korannas--more renowned for thievish propensities than for valour or warlike qualities; and he felt satisfied that if he and his friends received them boldly they would beat a hasty retreat. These dusky warriors were indeed but sorry specimens of their race; they were short, narrow-chested, and hippy, whilst their faces were of a very low type, with thick projecting lips, small depressed noses, and roguish shifting eyes. Their weapons consisted of rough, ill-made assegais, iron-wood clubs, or knobkerries, and small oval, hide-covered shields. However, seeing how small a force they had to contend with, and animated by the hope of plunder, the dingy troop advanced with more confidence and _elan_ than might have been expected. "Give them one barrel first," said Major Flinders, bringing his rifle to the "present." "Take a steady aim, and low. Now--fire!" The four rifles rang out nearly together, and three of the enemy rolled over and over, but their fall did not stop the rush of the others; on they came, bent on the destruction of the little band of white men. "Fire again!" shouted the Major as he discharged his second barrel. This time every bullet found its billet, and four Caffres bit the dust; whereupon their comrades pulled up, sent a few assegais whistling harmlessly through the air, and then went to the right-about and bolted. In the excitement of this, their first fight, Tom and George would have followed up the flying enemy had not the Major restrained them, saying: "I have no wish to kill those poor benighted creatures save in self-defence. Go and help Patrick to inspan, and let us be off as quickly as possible." "They're not gone yet!" exclaimed Mr Weston, seeing several woolly heads pop up amongst the shrubs and bushes to the left of the donga.