The Rajah's Fortress — page 117: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

108 THE RAJAH’S FORTRESS. the wretches deliberately began to blaze away with the revolver trying to see how close they could come to his head without hitting it. He made a desperate struggle as the first shot struck the tree, sending a shower of bark into his face, but the fastenings held tight. One bullet whizzed by his ear, another grazed his shoulder, sending a stinging thrill through him, and just as he was closing his eyes and uttering a silent prayer, the crack of a rifle rang out from the mountain side, and with a shrill cry of agony the fiend with the revolver sprang from his feet, clutched at the empty air, and then dropped in a lifeless heap among the rock. - His companion, a most horribly scared wretch, tried to flee, but his tottering limbs tangled him up, and with a succession of yells he toppled over the bank of the stream and plunged head foremost into a deep pool of ice cold water. Down the mountain side holding his smoking rifle, came a tall, bronzed man, with a long beard and mustache. He wore high boots, a hunting suit of corduroy, and a soft felt hat. With a stroke of his knife he severed Melton’s bonds. “ Mighty close shave, my young fellow!” he exclaimed, in a bluff, cheery voice. ‘ English or American, I reckon. But great Christopher, man, what are you doing in this part of the world?” Too amazed to speak, but faintly recollecting a COLUM 1OOO SS co