CHAPTER XVII. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. Wild," replied the other, "a little shaken, that's all. To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment, was out of the question. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously.
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