Some days passed, and no serious attack was made, though the garrison had to be very wary to avoid the arrows which flew at intervals into the enclosure.  One evening, soon after sunset, one of the men on watch noticed a small light approaching the barricade, and thought at first it was one of the phosphorescent insects which abounded in the woods, and which the garrison had seen every night like little lamps among the trees.  But as it came nearer he perceived that it grew larger and brighter, and moved from side to side with more regularity than was probable with an insect, and at length he saw that it was a smouldering torch held by a native, who was waving it to and fro to cause a flame.  Evidently he was coming to fire the barricade.  A well-directed shot brought him down, but to guard against any more attempts of the same kind Underhill had the barricade constantly drenched with water from the stream, a fatiguing job, but one that was welcome to the men, in that it gave them something to do.

Day after day went by.  It was clear that the enemy were trusting to famine to accomplish their end.  Luckily, it never entered their heads to hasten the inevitable by damming up the stream before it entered the enclosure.  If they had done this the garrison could hardly have held out for a day.  In that hot climate a constant supply of water was a prime necessity.  But water without solid food would not keep them alive, and as the stock of provisions diminished, and no help came, they saw the horrors of starvation looming ever nearer.  Underhill and Tom Smith assumed a false cheerfulness before each other and the men, but on the morning of the twelfth day Underhill was unable to keep up the pretence any longer.

“I didn’t want to show Underhill,” said Tom to his father, when the lieutenant had gone; “but we’re just about done, I think.”

“I’m afraid so, Tom.  Poor Jenkins had a touch of delirium in the night, and we are all getting so weak that we shall go off our heads.”

“Well, I’ve got an idea.  I thought I’d mention it to you before I spoke to Underhill.  The blacks haven’t been near us for a day or two, but you may be sure they are not far off.  I fancy they’ve got a camp or a village in the woods yonder.  They must have food there, and I don’t see why we shouldn’t try a night attack on them, and run away with all we can lay hands upon.  If we must, perish, better perish fighting than starving.”

“Yes, but it would be folly to attempt it unless we saw a chance of success, and I see none.  We don’t know where their camp is; they may be constantly on the watch, and could take us in the rear and occupy our camp before we could get back.  Besides, we might have to go a long way, and how could we find our way back again?”

“One difficulty at a time, Father.  As to finding our way back, we could light small fires at intervals, which would serve as guide-posts.”

“And betray us to the enemy.”