The pig attempted to double.  Failing to do so, it lost its footing, and fell flat on its side.  Jo Bumpus threw his spear with violent energy deep into the earth about two feet beyond it, tripped on a stump, and fell headlong on the top of the pig, squeezing the life out of its body with the weight of his ponderous frame, and receiving its dying yell into his very bosom.

“Hilloa! my stalwart chip of old Neptune,” cried Henry, laughing, “you’ve bagged him this time effectually.  Hast seen any of the niggers; or did you mistake this poor pig for one?”

“Aye, truly, I have seen them, and given a few of ’em marks that will keep ’em in remembrance of me.  As for this pig,” said Jo, throwing the carcass over his shoulder, “I want a bit of summat to eat—­that’s the fact; an’ the poor children will be—­”

“Children,” cried Mr. Mason, eagerly; “what do you mean, my man; have you seen any?”

“In course I has, or I wouldn’t speak of ’em,” returned Jo, who did not at first recognize the missionary; and no wonder, for Mr. Mason’s clothes were torn and soiled, and his face was bruised, bloodstained, and haggard.

“Tell me, friend, I entreat you,” said the pastor, earnestly, laying his hand on Jo’s arm; “have you seen my child?”

“Wot! are you the father of the little gal?  Why, I’ve seed her only half an hour since.  But hold on, lads; come arter me, an I’ll steer you to where she is at this moment.”

“Thanks be to God,” said Mr. Mason, with a deep sigh of relief.  “Lead on, my man, and, pray, go quickly.”

Bumpus at once led the way to the foot of the cliffs, and went over the ground at a pace that satisfied even the impatience of the bereaved father.

While this was occurring on the mountain slopes, the pirates at the foot of the cliffs had discovered the three children, and finding, that no one else was near, had seized them and carried them off to a cave near to which their boat lay on the rocks.  They hoped to have obtained some information from them as to what was going on at the other side of the island; but, while engaged in a fruitless attempt to screw something out of Corrie, who was peculiarly refractory, they were interrupted, first by the yells of Bumpus and his pig, and afterwards by the sudden appearance of Henry and his party on the edge of a cliff a short way above the spot where they were assembled.  On seeing these, the pirates started to their feet and drew their cutlasses, while Henry uttered a shout and ran down the rocks like a deer.

“Shall we have a stand-up fight with ’em, Bill?” said one of the pirates.

“Not if I can help it; there’s four to one,” replied the other.

“To the boat,” cried several of the men, leading the way; “and let’s take the brats with us.”

As Henry’s party came pouring down the hill the more combatively disposed of the pirates saw at glance that it would be in vain to attempt a stand.  They therefore discharged a scattering volley from their pistols (happily without effect), and, springing into their boat, pushed off from the shore, taking the children along with them.