living thing at their mercy. A hunt such as this was just what appealed to them. Against Isa and Baloo they had no personal feeling. What the fugitives had done was of small concern to them. Sufficient that there was an excuse for exciting sport. The affair was becoming a little too brutal for Chester's liking. He had all the Englishman's love of fair play, and this promised to develop into cold-blooded murder. It would have been next to impossible, however, to call off the yelling horde. Suddenly the noise among the men nearest the beach rose to a scream of delight, and Keith, rushing round, revolver in hand, arrived there just in time to prevent the spirit of Isa joining those of his forefathers by a most painful route. The diver, seeing that he was trapped, had attempted to bolt, and had been caught in the human net. Heavy blows fell on every part of his body, and but for nature's provision of a thick skull he would probably have been unconscious before Keith, after discharging his weapon twice into the air, succeeded in driving the horde off. Isa was then taken prisoner, his arms being bound tightly with creeper stems.
A few moments afterwards there were signs of a fierce struggle in the thick of the slump. Peter Pan, creeping cautiously, had run Baloo to earth, and the pair of them were engaged in a battle royal. More excited and out of hand than ever, the assembled blacks surged into the bushes. Keith's attention
