“Stay here,” exclaimed the New Englander, fearing that a diversion was on foot; “and I’ll attend to him!”

He was back in the apartment in an instant.  The light on the hearth having been extinguished, the gloom in this portion of the building was impenetrable, but a fearful struggle of some kind was going on.  Some animal or person had got within and grappled Bippo who was fighting like a tiger.

Had the New Englander been able to distinguish the combatants, he would have ended the contest in a twinkling, but though the two rolled against his feet, he dared not fire through fear of hurting his friend.

“Are you under or on top?” he asked, bending downward at the moment he knew from the peculiar sounds the foes had become stationary.

“He on top,” was the doleful response.

Long extended his right hand to learn precisely how matters stood, or rather lay, when it came in contact with the arm of a Murhapa in the act of raising it aloft to bury his knife in the body of the helpless Bippo, who was at the mercy of the savage, holding him inextricably in his grasp.

The American secured a firm hold of the forearm, and with a powerful wrench, not only jerked the miscreant free, but flung him from one side of the room clean to the door, where he was visible in the faint light beyond.

Evidently concluding that his mission in that place was over, he nimbly came to his feet and shot like a rocket through the opening.

The New Englander was in no mood for sentimentality, and, he levelled his weapon with the intention to kill; but quick as he was, he was just a fraction of a minute too late, and, much to his chagrin, the dusky wretch got away unharmed.

Long darted into the front room, ready for the proposal he had made just before.

The Professor was peering out, seemingly debating whether it was not advisable to re-open his bombardment.

“It beats creation,” he remarked, as his friend appeared at his elbow, “how quickly those fellows rally; their heads are popping up in every direction, and it won’t do to try to steal out this way.”

“But I suggested the rear,” reminded Long.

“Let’s see how matters look there.”

The survey from the other opening was disappointing.  Although all the Murhapas had been affected in a greater or less degree by the panic, yet it was more incomplete at the rear, because the confusing volley had not come from that direction.

There seemed to be fully as many warriors on this side, which, with the exception of the river, was quite similar in appearance to the other.  The shadowy figures were observed moving noiselessly in a dozen different directions, their heads bent down and their bodies crouching, as if in expectation of a shot, but, at the same time, they were not to be frightened off by any fusilade from within.

“We’re just too late,” remarked the Professor, quick to take in every point of the situation; “we might have done it a minute ago, but they are watching too closely now.”