don't think there are much if any firearms on either side, however. I
think we had better help our dusky friends, don't you, boys? They've
treated us white enough."

This was assented to, and the three crawled through the tall grass to
the verge of the village, where more of a massacre than a battle was
now going on.

The villagers were taken at a sad disadvantage, and were surrounded
evidently by superior numbers. The red-shirted chief was on the point
of being clubbed by one tall savage, while desperately engaged with
another. Ralph, seeing this, leveled his gun with a swiftness that
came of long practice amid the wilds of his native Hiawassee.

"Well done!" exclaimed the mate, as, after a sharp report, the negro
with a club dropped his weapon and hopped away with a ball in his
shoulder. "Now, let us spread out ten paces or so apart and advance.
Pump the balls into 'em, boys, but don't hit our black friends."

"How can we tell which is which when they're all alike as two
ha'pence?" growled Ben, but he received no answer, as both Mr. Duff and
Ralph were intent on the duty before them.

The crack of the Winchesters soon diverted attention from the villagers
to an extent that enabled them to recover somewhat from their panic.
The rapid hail of balls that hardly ever missed their aim disconcerted
the enemy.

The three whites, acting under Duff's orders, kept back in the tall
elephant grass at the edge of the huts; but also within close and