up the veranda steps, only to be met with a wilting stream of lead. Keith's arrival was none too soon, however, for by the time he had crammed fresh cartridges into his weapon, several of the blacks were close up to the house and the revolvers that Chester and Joan were wielding were empty. The fusillade that Keith poured out was sufficient to turn the tide, and such of the blacks as had not been killed scrambled down into the compound.
"Are you both all right?" Keith asked sharply.
"I am, but look at Chester," the girl replied from her post at the window. "I think he got hurt then."
"I'll be there—with bells on—in half a minute," the planter said. "Something gave me a jolt on my shoulder. I think it must have been a club that was heaved at us. It made me see stars for a minute, though. Have they gone?"
"For the moment, but they'll be back," replied Keith. "There'll be things doing before we're through with this night's work. There they go behind the house again. Can you keep 'em off here while I go and attend to them?"
"I'll be all right," Chester said.
The pounding had become threatening. The men there were evidently trying to find a weak spot in which to break through while the attention of the defenders was fully occupied at the front. Keith returned to his loop-hole and winged one if not two
