all; in fact, neither Robinson nor George had time to defend themselves against him even if they had seen him, which they did not.  Now as Jem was in the very act of making his spring from the other side of the brook, a spear glanced like a streak of light past the principal combatants and pierced Jem through and through the fleshy part of the thigh, and there stood Jacky at forty yards’ distance, with the hand still raised from which the spear had flown, and his emu-like eye glittering with the light of battle.

Jem, instead of bounding clear over the stream, fell heavily into the middle of it and lay writhing and floundering at George’s mercy, who turning in alarm at the sound stood over him with his long deadly staff whirling and swinging round his head in the air, while Robinson placed one foot firmly on the stunned man’s right arm and threatened the leader Black Will with his pistol, and at the same moment with a wild and piercing yell Jacky came down in leaps like a kangaroo, his tomahawk flourished over his head, his features entirely changed, and the thirst of blood written upon every inch of him.  Black Will was preparing to run away and leave his wounded companions, but at sight of the fleet savage he stood still and roared out for mercy.  “Quarter! quarter!” cried Black Will.

“Down on your knees!” cried Robinson in a terrible voice.

The man fell on his knees, and in that posture Jacky would certainly have knocked out his brains but that Robinson pointed the pistol at his head and forbade him; and Carlo, who had arrived hastily at the sound of battle, in great excitement but not with clear ideas, seeing Jacky, whom he always looked on as a wild animal, opposed in some way to Robinson, seized him directly by the leg from behind and held him howling in a vise.  “Hold your cursed noise, all of you,” roared Robinson.  “D’ye ask quarter?”

“Quarter!” cried Black Will.

“Quarter!” gurgled Jem.

“Quarter!” echoed more faintly the wounded man.  The other was insensible.

“Then throw me your knives.”

The men hesitated.

“Throw me them this instant, or—­”

They threw down their knives.

“George, take them and tie them up in your wipe.”  George took the knives and tied them up.

“Now pull that big brute out of the water or he’ll drown himself.”  George and Jacky pulled Jem out of the water with the spear sticking in him; the water was discolored with his blood.

“Pull the spear out of him!” George pulled and Jem roared with pain, but the spear-head would not come back through the wound; then Jacky came up and broke the light shaft off close to the skin, and grasping the head drew the remainder through the wound forward, and grinned with a sense of superior wisdom.

By this time the man whom George had felled sat up on his beam ends winking and blinking and confused, like a great owl at sunrise.