My rifle was wet and useless from my recent tumble; but before the group at the water's edge even saw me I was fairly upon them, striking fiercely with my gunstock, and two savages went down, shrieking from pain and surprise, before so much as a return blow reached me.
It was not a noisy battle; from the outset it was too fierce and rapid for any waste of breath.

Never did I need my strength of body more, nor did the long training of my father come in better play.

I made that long rifle-barrel both club and sword, knife and axe in one, striking, thrusting, clubbing, in the mad fury with which desperation bids a man battle for his life.

I had no thought to live, but was determined that if I went down to earth many a painted savage should lie there with me.

The enshrouding darkness proved a friendly help; for as I backed in closer against the bank, I gained a fair view of my opponents, while keeping myself more hidden.