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"Woora camba, woora!"

Such was the war cry which was raised,—or, at least, that is how it sounded to me. Then came the spears, and Gory gave a yell.

"Oi'm kilt!" he gasped. "Oi'm a dead mon!"

"No, you're not!" I answered. "That spear only nipped your ear. Hurry up, or you will be killed, for certain!" and I grabbed him by the arm.

We had a lead of fifty feet and the Tagals were lessening this steadily, when, to frighten them, Tom Dawson turned and fired a pistol shot over their heads.

The effect was instantaneous. All of the natives came to a standstill and several began to retreat.

"I thought that would fetch 'em," puffed the first mate. "I reckon they don't know much about fire-arms."

But Dawson was mistaken, as we found out