"Good-for-nothing rascals!" cried Jenny. "See what a mischief they've done."
"Be thankful, nurse," said Arthur, "that we saw the intention of the fellow, and were able to escape the spear. We now know our weak points, and may keep out of harm's way."
But Gerald, who thought the first aggression was committed, no longer scrupled to draw his bow, and sent an arrow, which he had barbed with skill, into the shoulder of the warrior on the rock, with such force, that he was hurled to the ground. In an instant all his companions crowded around him; he was raised from the ground, and the whole party disappeared in the bush, with every symptom of terror.
Wilkins was in an ecstasy of delight. He patted Gerald roughly on the back, saying, "That's the thing, my brave lad; ye're of the right sort; ye've let the rogues see what we can do. But if ye'd missed him we'd every soul been done. They'd have reckoned nought on us."
"It was a rash act, Gerald," said Mr. Mayburn; "but I hope the poor man is not seriously injured."
Wilkins made a grimace as he said, "Them there arrows is made o' purpose to injer, master. They're a bit sharpish to bide when they bang in among a fellow's bones, and no doctor at hand to hack 'em out."
"Didn't I tell you, Master Gerald," said Ruth, "that it were a sin and a shame to make them things as would rive folks' flesh?"
"You are the girl that said that," answered Gerald, wild with his exploit; "and weren't you right, Ruth, _astore_! I meant them to _rive_; and see how the cowards have scampered off from them. Couldn't we go out now, Arthur? You know we want firewood."
"Do not be impatient, Gerald," replied Arthur, "we have fuel sufficient for one day, and we do not know how far our foes may have fled."
"Depend on't, Mr. Arthur," said Wilkins, "there's not a bush or a rock we see but has its man. We'll have to make shift to live on what we have for a bit. They'll soon be trying another dodge."
But though the usual _coo-ee_ rang through the distant woods, mingled with the soft low wailing of the voices of women, the people were not seen again during a day which seemed unusually long to the anxious prisoners. The women cooked the pheasants with the last firewood, while Margaret filled a pillow-cover with the feathers for her father's head; but they had all become so accustomed to the hard earth, or at best to a bed of wiry grass, that even Mr. Mayburn regarded this pillow as a useless luxury, and an undesirable addition to the baggage, which rendered their journey so tedious.