It seemed cruel, but it was an act of self-defence, for those people were clamoring for the lives of the two men within, and would not be satisfied until they were at their mercy.
It was a strange scene that followed.

The interior of the building being dark, while the moonlight failed to touch the front, the figure of the white man was invisible to the dusky wretches howling on the outside.
All at once, from the black opening of the building, came the crash of the repeating Winchester.

Spouts of fire shot out into the gloom in terrific succession, as if fiery serpents were darting their heads in different directions; for the marksman aimed, quickly to the right, to the left and to the front, never pausing until he had discharged half a score of shots.
The panic for a minute or two was indescribable.

Men, women and children shrieked and scattered for the nearest available shelter.
Behind the buildings and down the river bank they dashed, stumbled and rolled, until, but for the tragic nature of the scene, the white man would have smiled.
But he had done enough, and he stepped back within the room to replenish the magazine of his rifle.
Jared Long had been drawn into the room by the furious fusillade, and now put the startling question whether advantage could not be taken of the panic to make a sudden dash for the woods.

It would never do to make for the boat still resting against the shore, for it would be filled with poisoned javelins before they could shove out into the Xingu.
"I believe we can," replied the Professor; "it will take them some minutes to get over their panic and that will be enough for us." "Let us leave by the rear," said Long, "for I don't think that is so well guarded." The two turned to attempt the dash for freedom, when a cry from Bippo struck them.
"Stay here," exclaimed the New Englander, fearing that a diversion was on foot; "and I'll attend to him!" He was back in the apartment in an instant.