Several of them
had been killed by the slugs from the muskets of Frank's guard, and
his pistol had completed their confusion. The reports of the guns
called up other troops, and these came rushing in on all sides.
Scarcely did Frank and his followers fall upon the conspirators
than they took to their heels and fled into the wood.
Ammon Quatia himself, sword in hand, had just sprung to the door
of the hut prepared to sell his life dearly, when Frank's guard
fired. The affair was so momentary that he had hardly time to
realize what had happened before his assailants were in full flight.
"You have saved my life," he said to Frank. "Had it not been for
you I must have been killed. You shall not find me ungrateful.
When I have taken Abra Crampa I will manage that you shall return
to your friends. I dare not let you go openly, for the king would
not forgive me, and I shall have enough to do already to pacify him
when he hears how great have been our losses. But rest content. I
will manage it somehow."
An hour afterwards Ammon Quatia gave orders that the army should
move to the attack of Abra Crampa. The place was held by a body of
marines and sailors, a hundred West Indians, and the native troops
of the king.
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