He called for a sally, and rushed out, revolver in hand, upon the broken line.

Half the blacks ran away like rabbits; the remainder, greatly outnumbering Trent and his party, stood firm.

In a moment it was hand-to-hand fighting, and Trent was cursing already the bravado which had brought him out to the open.
For a while it was a doubtful combat.

Then, with a shout of triumph, the chief, a swarthy, thick-set man of herculean strength, recognised Francis and sprang upon him.

The blow which he aimed would most surely have killed him, but that Trent, with the butt-end of a rifle, broke its force a little.