“Below there!  Awake, you sleepers!”

Another furious outburst of yelping and barking—­through which ran the quavering of voices of the affrighted natives—­smote the stillness of the night.  Then the bright light of torches of coconut leaves flashed below, nude figures ran swiftly to and fro among the houses, and then came a deep-voiced answering hail in English—­

“Hallo there!  Who hails?”

“Two white men,” was the officer’s quick reply.  “We cannot get down.  Bear a hand with a torch; we have lost the track.”  Then as something flashed across his mind, he added, “Who are you?  Are you a white man?”

“Yes.  I am Tom Ledyard.”

“Thank God for that!  Send a light quickly.  You and your people are in deadly danger.”

In a few minutes the waiting men saw the gleam of torches amid the trees to their right, and presently a tall, bearded, white man appeared, followed by half a dozen natives.  All were armed with muskets, whose barrels glinted and shone in the firelight.

Springing forward to meet him, North told his story in as few words as possible.

Ledyard’s dark face paled with passion.  “By heaven, they shall get a bloody welcome!  Now, come, sir; follow me.  You must need rest badly.”

As they passed through the village square, now lit up by many fires and filled with alarmed natives, Ledyard called out in his deep tones—­

“Gather ye together, my friends.  The son of the Slaughterer is near.  Send a man fleet of foot to Mout and bid him tell Nena, the chief, and his head men to come to my house quickly, else in a little while our bones will be gnawed by Charlik’s dogs.”

Then with North and Macy besides him, he entered his house, the largest in the village.  A woman, young, slender, and fair-skinned, met them at the door.  Behind her were some terrified native women, one of whom carried Ledyard’s youngest child in her arms.

“’Rita, my girl,” said Ledyard, placing his hand on his wife’s shoulder and speaking in English, “these are friends.  They have come to warn us.  That young hell-pup, Charlik, is attacking us tomorrow.  But quick, girl, get something for these gentlemen to eat and drink.”

But North and the harpooner were too excited to eat, and, seated opposite their host, they listened eagerly to him as he told them of his plans to repel the attack; of the bitter hatred that for ten years had existed between the people of Leasse and the old king; and then—­he set his teeth—­how that Se, the friendly sister of the young king, had once sent a secret messenger to him telling him to guard his wife well, for her brother had made a boast that when Leasse and Mout were given to the flames only Cerita should be spared.

“Then, ten days ago, Mr. North, thinking that this young tiger-cub Charlik knew that these people here were well prepared to resist an attack, I left in my cutter on a trading voyage to Ponape.  Three days out the vessel began to make water so badly that I had to beat back.  I only came ashore yesterday.”