CHAPTER VII.
DESPERATE WORK.
It seemed to be the only course left.

Whether it was or not, it was too late to try anything else.

That the natives had discovered the explorers was proven by several low, tremulous whistles which at that instant sounded on the night.
It was risky running along the dark trail, even though illuminated here and there by the rays of the moon: but, feeling that the situation was desperate, Ashman broke into a swift lope, with Johnston at his heels, urging him to make haste.
"If they come too close," thought the young man, "we can dodge among the trees again and pick our way back to the river as best we can--helloa! what's that ?" Well might he ask himself the question, for the whizz of something close to his ear left no doubt that one of their pursuers had hurled a poisoned javelin at them.
An instant after he heard a faint but peculiar noise which he could not describe nor identify.

Johnston at the same instant uttered a suppressed exclamation, not intended for his ears, and he called out in a recklessly loud voice, "Into the woods, quick!" Ashman did not hesitate, but darted to his right, halting after a couple of steps, through fear of betraying himself.
"Where are you ?" asked Johnston, speaking more guardedly.
His groping hand touched Ashman, who seized it and silently drew him forward, neither speaking again.
Even in that trying moment, the younger was impressed by the singularity of his friend's actions, though there was no opportunity to ask an explanation.
The savages could be plainly heard, as they hurried past, evidently believing they would overtake the fugitives the next minute and certain of locating them, wherever they might be.
Sure enough, they had not gone fifty feet, when they detected the trick and turned about to catch the whites before they could steal any distance from the trail.
"We must leave," said Ashman; "we are too close to the path, and they are sure to find us." Johnston made no answer, and, instead of following him, sank heavily to the ground, with a groan.
"Great heaven! what is the matter, Aaron ?" gasped his friend.
"I'm done for," was the feeble reply; "never mind me: look--out--for--for--good-bye!" Struck almost dumb by an awful fear, Fred forgot the natives for the time and stooped over his friend.

It was as he suspected; the poor fellow had been struck full in the back by one of the poisoned javelins.