Back they were driven again by the mere weight of numbers. I saw
Mavovo stab a man and go down. He rose and stabbed another, then fell
again for he was hard hit.
Two Arabs rushed to kill him. I shot them both with a right and left,
for fortunately my rifle was just reloaded. He rose once more and
killed a third man. Stephen came to his support and grappling with an
Arab, dashed his head against the gate-post so that he fell. Old
Bausi, panting like a grampus, plunged in with his remaining Mazitu
and the combatants became so confused in the dark gloom of the
overhanging smoke that I could scarcely tell one from the other. Yet
the maddened Arabs were winning, as they must, for how could our small
and ever-lessening company stand against their rush?
We were in a little circle now of which somehow I found myself the
centre, and they were attacking us on all sides. Stephen got a knock
on the head from the butt end of a gun, and tumbled against me, nearly
upsetting me. As I recovered myself I looked round in despair.
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