There stood the woman, while the bullets whistled round her, laying the gun as coolly as though she had served in the Royal Artillery, and with her was the head-man, Peter.

Peter was shot through the waist-cloth and a ball cut its way through Soa's grizzled hair, but neither of them seemed to notice these trifles.
"They are mad, Baas," cried Otter, who was watching the enemy over the top of the embankment.

"See! they are coming across the open." Leonard looked.

The dwarf was right: in their rage and hurry the slavers, half hidden in a cloud of smoke caused by their rapid firing, were advancing across the clear space instead of creeping along the edge of the dike.

What was more, the necessity of carrying the planks caused them to pack in groups.