The bushman seemed absorbed in contemplation of this object.
Warning them not to shoot unless the man was successfully escaping, Sheldon beckoned the Poonga-Poonga men forward.

Joan smiled appreciatively to Sheldon.

It was head-hunters against head-hunters.

The blacks trod noiselessly to their stations, which were arranged so that they could spring simultaneously into the open.

Their faces were keen and serious, their eyes eloquent with the ecstasy of living that was upon them--for this was living, this game of life and death, and to them it was the only game a man should play, withal they played it in low and cowardly ways, killing from behind in the dim forest gloom and rarely coming out into the open.
Sheldon whispered the word, and the ten runners leaped forward--for Binu Charley ran with them.