of the blacks. Then, hastily reloading, he once more emptied the magazine, scattering the shots in every direction. It was a haphazard form of markmanship, for there was no guide to Keith beyond the shouting, but it had the effect of temporarily driving the men clear of that part of the compound. They soon returned to the attack, however, and this time used a heavy log as a battering ram on the side wall. There was no loop-hole or crevice in the building there, so they were able to pound away uninterruptedly, and soon the little building began to shake under the onslaught.
"They'll have the whole place down about our ears in another half hour," Keith said.
"Well, let 'em, the beasts!" Chester replied. "We can only go on plugging holes in 'em to the finish, and this looks to me very much like the beginning of our finish."
Even as he spoke he punctuated his words with an occasional shot into the darkness in the direction of a shadowy form which might have been imagination or might not.
"I wouldn't mind so much if it weren't so infernally dark," the planter went on. "It's rough on a fellow not to have enough light to die in decently if he's got to die fighting. I say, Keith, what worries me is—"
At that moment there was a faint flicker of the moon, the thin crescent of which struggled to cast
