"
"Sure!" cried Billy Byrne. "Come ahead," and he sprang
for the window. "Pass de kid up to me. Quick! Dey're comin'
from in back."
Theriere lifted Barbara Harding to the mucker who drew
her through the opening. Then Billy extended a hand to the
Frenchman, and a moment later the three stood together
outside the hut.
A dozen samurai were running toward them from around
the end of the "Palace." The jungle lay a hundred yards
across the clearing. There was no time to be lost.
"You go first with Miss Harding," cried Theriere. "I'll cover
our retreat with my revolver, following close behind you."
The mucker caught the girl in his arms, throwing her across
his shoulder. The blood from his wounds smeared her hands
and clothing.
"Hang tight, kiddo," he cried, and started at a brisk trot
toward the forest.
Theriere kept close behind the two, reserving his fire until it
could be effectively delivered. With savage yells the samurai
leaped after their escaping quarry. The natives all carried the
long, sharp spears of the aboriginal head-hunters. Their swords
swung in their harness, and their ancient armor clanked as
they ran.
It was a strange, weird picture that the oddly contrasted
party presented as they raced across the clearing of this
forgotten isle toward a jungle as primitive as when "the
evening and the morning were the third day.
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