"No, indeed! And unless I'm greatly mistaken they intend to renew their attack," rejoined his friend. "They've more pluck and determination than I thought for! Get the carts and mules under cover of the trees!" Patrick Keown at once dragged the carts into the centre of the tope, whilst the boys and Black William drove in the mules and tethered them between the carts, forming a sort of laager, into which the Major and Mr Weston retired. They all took up their rifles and opened fire upon the advancing enemy, who showed no lack of courage, and sent their assegais hurtling amongst the trees in a style that would have done credit to Zulu warriors. But they did not attempt to come to close quarters, their sole object being to carry off their dead and wounded, not to renew their attack on the white men, whose terrible rifles had already done to death so many of their company. Had they been able to explain their intentions they might have done this without let or hindrance; as it was, they lost three more of their number. At last Black William divined what they were about, and begged his master to cease firing for a minute or two. The savages then rushed forward, caught up their unfortunate comrades, and bolted back in double-quick time. "The beggars are off now, and no mistake!" cried Tom. "Let us see what damage they have done us." "First and foremost there are two mules killed," responded his father; "Sandboy and Admiral--the best animals in either team." "And Kicking Jan's got an ugly wound in his flank," put in Keown. "Bad cess to the contrary baste; he's sure to git into mischief if there's mischief about!" "I got hurt too," said Black William with a grin, showing a tear in his sleeve, which was covered with blood. "And dere's young Mas'r George been hit by dem niggers!" An assegai had indeed grazed George Weston's shoulder, but happily no serious injury had been done to any of the party--nothing, in fact, that cold water and a strip of lint would not cure. The dead mules were now stripped of their harness; Kicking Jan's wound was dressed--an operation that the "contrary baste," true to his nature, resented to the best of his power; and the travellers resumed their journey. No sooner were they well on the move, and at a respectable distance from their late encampment, than the discomfited savages once more appeared on the scene, and fell tooth and nail on the carcasses of the slain mules. "Bedad!" exclaimed the ex-sergeant when he saw the blacks cutting and hacking away with their short assegais, "they'll be having a foine gorge now! Sorra a bit of flesh will they lave on the bones of poor Sandboy and Admiral." "They have paid dearly for their feast," observed Mr Weston, who was seated beside him. "Are all the Caffres such gluttons?" "Indade they are, sorr," was the reply. "Just sit the best of them down before a dead animal of any sort, from an elephant to a dossie, and they'd go on eatin' till they were fit to bust."