CHAPTER XXII.
CAPTAIN NEMO’S LIGHTNING.
We turned towards the forest without getting up. My hand was arrested in the act of putting a morsel in my mouth. Ned did not stop his hand.
“A stone does not fall from heaven,” said Conseil, “unless it be an aërolite.”
A second stone, well aimed, which knocked a savoury bit of pigeon out of Conseil’s hand, gave a point to the remark.
We all rose, shouldered our rifles, and were ready to repulse any attack.
“Are they apes?” said Ned.
“Nearer relatives,” said Conseil. “They are savages.”
“Let us gain the boat,” I cried, retreating towards the shore.
We were obliged to retreat fighting, for twenty natives, armed with bows and spears, appeared at the edge of a coppice which lay to the right, scarcely a hundred paces distant.
Our launch was sixty yards away.
