The man he let drive at dodged the arrow, and
before he could shoot another his enemies were upon him. He was rolled
over and over and dragged to his feet, disarmed and helpless.
"Why, he's an ancient Babylonian!" Joan cried, regarding him. "He's an
Assyrian, a Phoenician! Look at that straight nose, that narrow face,
those high cheek-bones--and that slanting, oval forehead, and the beard,
and the eyes, too."
"And the snaky locks," Sheldon laughed.
The bushman was in mortal fear, led by all his training to expect nothing
less than death; yet he did not cower away from them. Instead, he
returned their looks with lean self-sufficiency, and finally centred his
gaze upon Joan, the first white woman he had ever seen.
"My word, bush fella _kai-kai_ along that fella boy," Binu Charley
remarked.
So stolid was his manner of utterance that Joan turned carelessly to see
what had attracted his attention, and found herself face to face with
Gogoomy. At least, it was the head of Gogoomy--the dark object they had
seen hanging in the smoke. It was fresh--the smoke-curing had just
begun--and, save for the closed eyes, all the sullen handsomeness and
animal virility of the boy, as Joan had known it, was still to be seen in
the monstrous thing that twisted and dangled in the eddying smoke.
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