One grazed his cheek, searing the flesh as with a
red-hot iron. Another wounded him slightly in the neck, while a third cut
the skin of his thigh. He seemed to bear a charmed life; and the girl
watching him felt her heart stop, as the blood showed on his face and neck.
The flying lead sent leaves fluttering to the ground, cut off twigs, and
struck the tree-trunks with a thud. Flinging himself at full length on the
ground Dermot reached his rifle, then crawled to shelter behind another
tree.
He looked eagerly around for his assailants. At first he could see no one.
Suddenly through the undergrowth about thirty yards away the muzzle of an
old musket was pushed out, and then a dark face peered cautiously behind
it. The eyes in it met Dermot's, but that glance was their last. The
soldier's rifle spoke, and the face disappeared as its owner's body pitched
forward among the bushes and lay still. At the sharp report of the white
man's weapon the firing all around ceased suddenly. But the intense silence
that followed was broken by a strange sound like the shrill blast of a
steam whistle mingled with the crackling of sheets of tin rapidly shaken
and doubled. Noreen, crouching submissively in the shelter where Dermot had
placed her, thrilled and wondered at the uncanny sound.
The soldier knew well what it was. It was Badshah's appeal for help, and he
wondered why the animal had given it then, so late.
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