When the leading man was nearly within gunshot, the captain's face began
to burn, and his pulses to throb hard and fast.
"The sooner I pick off the head one," he thought, "the better chance I
have at the others."
He brought his gun to his shoulder, and was slowly lowering the barrel to
the line of aim, when suddenly something like a great black beast rushed
past him, pushing up his arm and nearly toppling him over. It came from
the cave, and in a second it was out on the plateau. Then it gave a leap
upward, and rushed down toward the sea. Utterly astounded, the captain
steadied himself and turned to Maka.
"What was that?" he exclaimed.
The African was on his feet, his body bent forward, his eyes peering out
into the distance.
"Mok!" said he. "Look! Look!"
It was Mok who had rushed out of the cave. He was running toward the four
men. He reached them, he threw up his arms, he sprang upon the first man.
Then he left him, and jumped upon the others. Then Maka gave a little cry
and sprang forward, but in the same instant the captain seized him.
"Stop!" he cried. "What is it?"
The African shouted: "Mok's people! Mok knowed them. Look!
Look--see! Mok!"
The party was now near enough and the day was bright enough for the
captain to see that on the lower ground beyond the plateau there were
five black men in a state of mad excitement. He could hear them jabbering
away at a great rate.
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