TRACKING THE ENEMY. 



275 



The uncle was not capable of self-control. He cast a hasty 

 look around him, dropped the coil of rope, and ran to the light- 

 house. It was well for him the door stood open wide, for as he 

 ran a ringing shot came from the palmettoes, the bullet cutting 

 his jacket, and another shot from another covert shattered a pane 

 of glass beside Lou Jackson, and from every side broke out the 

 war-whoop, while half a dozen savages, whooping with their hands 

 to their mouths, sprang from the palmetto bushes, and rushed 

 across the opening to intercept the fugitive. 



The old man slipped in, slamming and bolting the heavy door 

 behind him, and was safe. The savages crowded up against the 

 doorway, as an angry wave would sometimes do on a stormy night, 

 and then fell back, baffled for the nonce. 



