The fate of the flanking detachment was either unperceived or unheeded by the Dyaks left in the vicinity of the house and well.  Astounded by the firing that burst forth in mid-air, Jenks had cleared the dangerous rock before they realized that here, above their heads, were the white man and the maid whom they sought.

With stupid zeal they blazed away furiously, only succeeding in showering fragments of splintered stone into the Eagle’s Nest.  And the sailor smiled.  He quietly picked up an old coat, rolled it into a ball and pushed it into sight amidst the grass.  Then he squirmed round on his stomach and took up a position ten feet away.  Of course those who still carried loaded guns discharged them at the bundle of rags, whereupon Jenks thrust his rifle beyond the edge of the rock and leaned over.

Three Dyaks fell before the remainder made up their minds to run.  Once convinced, however, that running was good for their health, they moved with much celerity.  The remaining cartridges in the magazine slackened the pace of two of their number.  Jenks dropped the empty weapon and seized another.  He stood up now and sent a quick reminder after the rearmost pirate.  The others had disappeared towards the locality where their leader and his diminished troupe were gathered, not daring to again come within range of the whistling Dum-dums.  The sailor, holding his rifle as though pheasant-shooting, bent forward and sought a belated opponent, but in vain.  In military phrase, the terrain was clear of the enemy.  There was no sound save the wailing of birds, the soft sough of the sea, and the yelling of the three wounded men in the house, who knew not what terrors threatened, and vainly bawled for succor.

Again Jenks could look at Iris.  Her face was bleeding.  The sight maddened him.

“My God!” he groaned, “are you wounded?”

She smiled bravely at him.

“It is nothing,” she said.  “A mere splash from the rock which cut my forehead.”

He dared not go to her.  He could only hope that it was no worse, so he turned to examine the valley once more for vestige of a living foe.

CHAPTER XII

A TRUCE

Though his eyes, like live coals, glowered with sullen fire at the strip of sand and the rocks in front, his troubled brain paid perfunctory heed to his task.  The stern sense of duty, the ingrained force of long years of military discipline and soldierly thought, compelled him to keep watch and ward over his fortress, but he could not help asking himself what would happen if Iris were seriously wounded.

There was one enemy more potent than these skulking Dyaks, a foe more irresistible in his might, more pitiless in his strength, whose assaults would tax to the utmost their powers of resistance.  In another hour the sun would be high in the heavens, pouring his ardent rays upon them and drying the blood in their veins.