In five more we had dragged the Greek's dead body underneath the tree.
Then I went back to the vantage point among the rocks and waited until Will had thrown the rope with a stone tied to its end over an upper branch.

Presently I saw Coutlass' dead body go clambering ungracefully up among the branches, looking so much less dead than alive that I thought at first Will must have tangled the rope in the crotch of the tree and be clambering up to release it.
The ruse worked.

Georges Coutlass served us dead as well as living.
Out of the darkness to my left there came a flash and a report.

I did not look to see whether the corpse in the tree jerked as the bullet struck.

Before the flash had died--almost before the crack of the report bad reached my ear-drums I answered with three shots in quick succession.
"Did you get him ?" called Will.
"I don't know," I answered.