“Why—­why—­O Mr. Byrne, it can’t be possible!” cried the girl with suppressed excitement.  “Those two men are Captain Norris and Mr. Foster, mate of the Lotus!”

Byrne half rose to his feet.  The party was opposite their hiding place now.

“Sit tight,” he whispered.  “I’m goin’ to get ’em,” and then, fiercely “for your sake, because I love you—­now laugh,” and he was gone.

He ran lightly down the river bank unnoticed by the samurai who had already passed the island.  In one hand he bore the long war spear of the head-hunter he had slain.  At his belt hung the long sword of Oda Yorimoto, and in its holster reposed the revolver of the Count de Cadenet.

Barbara Harding watched him as be forded the river, and clambered up the opposite bank.  She saw him spring rapidly after the samurai and their prisoners.  She saw his spear hand go up, and then from the deep lungs of the man rose a savage yell that would have done credit to a whole tribe of Apaches.

The warriors turned in time to see the heavy spear flying toward them and then, as he dashed into their midst, Billy Byrne drew his revolver and fired to right and left.  The two prisoners took advantage of the consternation of their guards to grapple with them and possess themselves of weapons.

There had been but six samurai in the party, two had fallen before Byrne’s initial onslaught, but the other four, recovered from their first surprise, turned now to battle with all the terrific ferocity of their kind.

Again, at a crucial moment, had Theriere’s revolver missed fire, and in disgust Byrne discarded it, falling back upon the long sword with which he was no match for the samurai.  Norris snatched Byrne’s spear from the ground, and ran it through the body of one of the Japs who was pressing Byrne too closely.  Odds were even now—­they fought three against three.

Norris still clung to the spear—­it was by far the most effective weapon against the long swords of the samurai.  With it he killed his antagonist and then rushed to the assistance of Foster.

Barbara Harding from the island saw that Byrne’s foe was pressing him closely.  The white man had no chance against the superior swordsmanship of the samurai.  She saw that the mucker was trying to get past the Jap’s guard and get his hands upon him, but it was evident that the man was too crafty and skilled a fighter to permit of that.  There could be but one outcome to that duel unless Byrne had assistance, and that mighty quickly.  The girl grasped the short sword that she constantly wore now, and rushed into the river.  She had never before crossed it except in Byrne’s arms.  She found the current swift and strong.  It almost swept her off her feet before she was halfway across, but she never for an instant thought of abandoning her effort.

After what seemed an eternity she floundered out upon the mainland, and when she reached the top of the bank she saw to her delight that Byrne was still on his feet, fighting.  Foster and Norris were pushing their man back—­they were in no danger.