The sailor fancied that a messenger was dispatched by way of the north sands to hurry up the laggards, because the distant firing slackened, and, five minutes later, a fierce outbreak of yells among the trees to the right heralded a combined rush on the Belle Vue Castle.
The noise made by the savages was so great--the screams of bewildered birds circling overhead so incessant--that Jenks was compelled to speak quite loudly when he said to Iris-- "They must think we sleep soundly not to be disturbed by the volleys they have fired already." She would have answered, but he placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, for the Dyaks quickly discovering that the hut was empty, ran towards the cave and thus came in full view.
As well as Jenks could judge, the foremost trio of the yelping horde were impaled on the bayonets of the _cheval de frise_, learning too late its formidable nature.

The wounded men shrieked in agony, but their cries were drowned in a torrent of amazed shouts from their companions.

Forthwith there was a stampede towards the well, the cliff, the beaches, anywhere to get away from that awesome cavern where ghosts dwelt and men fell maimed at the very threshold.

The sailor, leaning as far over the edge of the rock as the girl's expostulations would permit, heard a couple of men groaning beneath, whilst a third limped away with frantic and painful haste.
"What is it ?" whispered Iris, eager herself to witness the tumult.
"What has happened ?" "They have been routed by a box of matches and a few dried bones," he answered.
There was no time for further speech.

He was absorbed in estimating the probable number of the Dyaks.