Soon the flames were seen penetrating the dark gorges, and climbing the rocky steeps. The colonial force constructed their huts, established their sentries, and kept up the vast fires for observation and destruction. Gradually long, black lanes were made through the thicket, and fresh arrivals from the townships around assured the Whites of victory.
It was full moon at the time of a visit of a friend, who described to me his admiration of this stirring scene. The soft light fell so calmly upon the roaring flames, as if to rebuke their violence, and each hilly cone, wreathed with fire, vainly, like Hercules of old, sought relief from the fatal robe.
But when nothing but charred timber or smouldering ashes remained, and when the moon had evening after evening decreased its light till darkness rested upon the encampment at night, then the time for watchfulness arrived, lest the imprisoned should escape. Troops were gradually assembling; and while some guarded the entrance with dogs, fires, and arms, others were to pass down the peninsula and seize or kill the egg-gatherers.
In fear, but determination, the poor creatures waited for the favourable moment. A night of misty blackness came. They had crept as closely as they dared to the lines, their very dogs preserving silence, and then, with a bound and cry, followed by their yelping friends, they dashed by the fires and guards, and gained the dark forest beyond in safety. The only captures made by the formidable besiegers were a few young puppies, distanced by the tribe.
