Owen Oliver

“ And he gave a big sob.
"Home," he said. "Run, mate! Run!"
And we ran into the clump; and before our eyes were used to the darkness, a little brown man hung round each of our legs and brought us down; and another little brown man had us by each arm. It was no use struggling. Sanders bit one of those that held him; but they were too quick for me; and when we tried to shout they rammed some rags in our mouths till we nearly choked.
They dealt with him first; took him and tied him to a tree—one of those infernal fan-topped palms—where he could see the sea and the field of flowers ”

“ A little brown man slipped from almost under our feet into the bush and out of sight; and we left off grinning and looked at each other. Sanders grew white in the face, and shook as if he might fall. He stopped dead.
"Come on, mate," I said. "They can't do more than kill us." ”

“ The puff arrows kept whizzing by us, and some stuck through our matted hair; and at last I dropped down on the ground.
"They can kill me," I said. "I won't get up again." And Sanders laughed a choky laugh, and sat down too; but after a few minutes we got up and went on again till he dropped. And so we kept on, dropping and getting up again.
Once we thought they had gone, and half dozed; and when we woke a couple of dozen short, brown men, with long, hanging arms like monkeys, slid away into the bush. Sanders fired at them.
"My last shot!" he screamed; "and I didn't even hit him! Run! Run!" ”

“ Near noon we found a ripe berry bush, and cleared it. The sun was mighty strong, and I wanted a rest; but Sanders wouldn't stop till we came to a bit of mud island in the river, where we'd be out of their way. We swam out to it and lay down hidden in the long wet grass, and dozed off. He screamed out, and roused me. His left arm had been struck near the elbow, with a club or something of that kind, and hung limp.
"The little brown brutes," he said, with a choking noise in his throat. "The brutes, to take a man in his sleep." ”

“ There'll be more of them about, and they'll follow us all the way to the coast, and we won't get there under four or five days,"
"No," he said. "No. We won't—unless we hurry up. We'd best be moving."
He got up and turned to go; and the little brown wretch moaned out: "Ur-ur-ur." That's all I ever made of their talking. And I stood and looked at him, and wondered why he hadn't died, and how long he'd take.
"Put him out of his misery," I suggested; but Sanders walked on and took no notice. I was going after him, but the little brown chap looked up at me and moaned: "Ur-ur-ur." ”

“ Then we hit upon a muddy pool; and just after I shot a bird with my revolver. We made a fire with our last match, and roasted it; and when we'd finished eating we dozed off, without knowing. When we woke up we saw they'd been there, and made a joss out of a tree trunk, with a red rag stuck on with arrows, and a berry necklace on top.
Sanders got up and kicked it, and shouted, as if he'd gone mad, and shook his fist at the bushes, and swore and raved at them to come out in the open, like men, and he'd fight the whole tribe of them ”

“ The flag ran down the schooner's mast, and we could see them getting the anchor ready, and standing by to haul in the sails, and we waved our hands to them as we ran, though we knew they weren't likely to see us, on account of the high grass that ran beside the path, and a sort of hedge that we could barely see over. ”

“ Behind the creeper trees and bush, that fringed the banks, a dozen fan-topped palms stood out against a spangle of misty stars in a clouding sky. Something like a monkey moved in one of the palms, and Thompson caught me by the arm and pointed.
"One of the little brown beasts taking a look at us," he said. "I'd like you to see them to-morrow; but they're shy of ships, and it's odds that you won't."
"What are they like?" I asked.
"Flat-nosed little brutes with beady eyes, and lips that stick out, and jabber ur-ur-ur. There are people that make out it's talking ”

“ Dangle their arms as if they haven't walked on their hind legs long, and never wash, and plaster themselves with mud. Little brown beasts!"
"Apes?" I suggested.
"Worse! Men! Little brown men. About four feet six high; not up to your shoulder. A necklace of dried berries and a rag round their middle. That's all they wear; and carry a blowpipe and a wooden spear—hard wood and sharpened to a point. Wives in common. No manners. Worse than beasts. But they've got an idea of justice." ”