have landed me on the rocks below. I wanted him in sight before I showed
myself, for one chance was all I could expect.

The men behind watched him in silence now. I held my breath. A second or
two would decide the matter between us.

A musket barrel came poking round my bastion, but I was balanced like a fly
on the seaward side. Then Torode's dark eyes met mine as he peered
cautiously round the corner. He fired instantly, and my footing was too
precarious to let me even duck. My left arm tingled and went numb, but
before he could draw a pistol I stepped to safer ground and launched my
rock at him. It caught him lower than I intended, but that was the result
of my insecure foothold. I meant it for his head. It took him between neck
and shoulder. He dropped like an ox, and his musket went clattering down
the steep. He lay still across the path, very near to the place where, as
I looked, I could see again Black Boy's straining eyes and pitiful
scrabbling feet as he hung for a moment before falling into the gulf.

A howl and a burst of curses from the cautious ones behind greeted his
fall, but I heard no sound of footsteps coming to their leader's
assistance.

With another rock I could have smashed him where he lay, and at small risk
to myself; but hurling rocks in hot blood is one thing and smashing fallen
men is another; and Torode, lying on his face, was safer from harm than
Torode on his feet with his gun in his hand.

There was excited discussion among his followers, the necessity of securing
the wounded man evidently prompting them to an attempt, but no man showing
himself desirous of first honours.