We pushed on, doing our best, and taking every possible advantage of the nature of the ground; but, ever and anon, as I glanced over my shoulder, the lance gleamed brighter, and the tall savage was lessening the little distance that separated us. I saw Peter's hand feel for his sheath-knife, to assure himself that it was ready for action; his breath came short and quick from his exertions, and still more from excitement at the certainty of being soon brought to bay. Suddenly his face lighted, and his nostrils seemed to be doubled in size. "See rock ahead?" said he, pointing with his hand. "Yes," answered I, pantingly. "What then?" "Fight there. Odder side of it." Volumes could not have said more. His whole plan was at once unfolded, as he picked up a sapling of convenient size to be used as an offensive weapon. The rock of which he spoke projected outward from the face of the hill, which was here steeply inclined, and, to double round it, it was necessary to descend a short distance, and after passing it, to climb up again. We passed it, and Peter turning the corner, halted short, and struck an attitude showing that he meant to meet the enemy with the _end_ of his sapling, to _harpoon_ him, as it were, instead of swinging a blow at him. He crouched close to the rock, saying in a low, quick tone: "Stand behind me--give me room for dart; get nodder stick--big stone all 'e same. If I miss him, stand by to give it to him." Nothing could have been better planned; as the pursuing savage could not see him until their faces were close together, Peter having all the advantage of the higher position. Arming myself with a fragment of rock of convenient weight, I crouched a little up the hill in rear of my comrade, just giving him room to draw back his heavy pole. [Illustration: ESCAPE FROM SAVAGES. Page 185.] We had not long to wait, ere the hard breathing of the infuriated chief was audible as he struggled round under the lee of the projecting boulder. Peter drew back his weapon at a poise, and planted his feet more firmly, while I closed up a little with my stone in reserve. The horrible tattooed face rose into view like Banquo's ghost. Too late he perceived the _ruse_ of the wily Hawaian, and vainly struggled to bring his lance to bear; the sapling met him full in the face with terrific force, and he was hurled backwards down the declivity, receiving my stone full in his naked breast as he fell. He did not go far, for a ledge some ten feet below, brought him up; but I can never forget the appearance of his crushed and bleeding face upturned to us. His lance, thrown from his hand, had stuck in a turfy spot, and seizing this weapon, I now felt tolerably safe from direct pursuit, though I was still a little apprehensive of some flank movement from the mountain above.