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"That is the best course, no doubt; but it is quite dark; we must make allowances for more missed shots than would be the case in the daytime." "Very well; each will fire three times; the pair of pistols already loaded, and one reload." "Excellent! Where shall our engagement take place?" "Have you any preference?" "No." "You see that small wood which lies before us?"
Without waiting to reload, or even to look if the main body of the Zulus had seen the death of their two scouts, I turned my horse and drove my heels into his sides. As soon as I was down the slope of the rise I pulled a little to the right in order to intercept the waggons before the Zulus saw them.
One at a time they departed; but, it was not until they had been out of sight and hearing for some time that Kit considered it safe to venture down from the tree; when, he hastened to regain and immediately to reload his rifle. Thus ended an adventure in which Kit Carson considers that he failed to lose life and limb by the narrowest miss that ever occurred to him.
He raised his single-barrelled rifle, as though he would shoot Sinnet; but, at the moment, he remembered that a shot would warn Greevy, and that he might not have time to reload. He laid his rifle against a tree swiftly. "Git away from here," he said, with a strange rattle in his throat. "Git away quick; he'll be down past here in a minute."
"Don't know whether I got him or not," he said, as he drew back and began to reload, "for I couldn't see very well, but I'll bet he thinks a hurricane came along through the bushes. It's too dark now to see anything and all we can do is to wait." "Wait for what?" I asked. "Wait for them to try to break in. They'll try it after they have had a few more pulls at the bottle, I think.
Williams began to reload his gun, but Dic interrupted the proceeding. "Don't load now. We will soon reach the clearing." Williams continued reloading, and was driving the patch down upon the powder. Dic cocked his rifle, and raising it halfway to his shoulder, said: "Don't put the bullet in unless you wish me to see a squirrel. I'll not miss. Throw me your bullet pouch."
Then he called some command to the head-hunters who had apparently been enlisted on the side of himself and the two Fogers. The automatic revolvers were soon emptied, and the place was now so full of smoke that neither party could see the other. The torches burned with a red glare. "Reload!" ordered Tom, "and we'll make a rush for it! We can't keep this up long!"
On reaching the tree I instantly began to reload, hoping to have time to give the elephant another shot as he passed me; for, though he had seen me for a moment, I knew that he would go straight on without looking behind the tree. But, even before he had got up to the spot, down he fell on his knees, crushing several young trees.
At the very end of the coppice he gathered himself together and rose slowly to a crouching position. Another rain of shots came from the nook; the man's rifle would be empty, he must give him no chance to reload. Now it would be a fair fight with the bayonet. He threw aside the white draperies that impeded his legs and in half a dozen bounds the two men were face to face. No shot had been fired.
The mail is guarded by eight men, armed as follows: Each man has at his side, fastened in the stage, one of Colt's revolving rifles; in a holster below, one of Colt's long revolvers, and in his belt a small Colt's revolver, besides a hunting-knife; so that these eight men are ready, in case of attack, to discharge one hundred and thirty-six shots without having to reload.
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