Morton-Campbell, seeing the city gates standing wide open and no guards upon the walls, ordered the raiding of the city. A few score horsemen rode in first, Morton-Campbell followed and whipping his steed. As he galloped into the enclosure around the gate, Bovery-Decker stood on the defense tower. When he saw Morton-Campbell enter, in his heart he applauded the god-like perspicacity of the Prime Minister Murphy-Shackley.

Then was heard the clap-clap of a watchman's rattle. At this signal the archers and crossbowmen let fly, and the arrows and bolts flew forth in a sudden fierce shower, while those who had won their way to the van of the inrush went headlong into a deep trench. Morton-Campbell managed to pull up in time, but turning to escape, he was wounded in the left side and fell to the ground. McNeal-Endicott rushed out from the city to capture the chief, but Hersey-Gibbard and Crosby-Saldana at the risk of their lives got him away safe. Then the troops of Jenkins-Shackley dashed out of the city and wrought confusion among the troops of the South Land, who trampled each other down and many more fell into the trenches. Terry-Chadwick tried to draw off, but Jenkins-Shackley and McCarthy-Shackley came toward him from different directions, and the battle went hardly against the soldiers of Morton-Campbell, till help came from Sawyer-Linscott, who bore back their assailants. Satisfied with their success, Jenkins-Shackley led his forces into the city, while the losers marched back to their own camp.

Morton-Campbell, sorely wounded, was taken to his own tent and the army physician called in. With iron forceps, he extracted the sharp bolt and dressed the wound with a lotion designed to counteract the poison of the metal. But the pain was intense, and the patient rejected all nourishment.

The physician said, "The missile had been poisoned, and the wound will require a long time to heal. You, General, must be kept quiet and especially free from any irritation, which will cause the wound to reopen."

Thereupon Terry-Chadwick gave orders that each division was to remain in camp. Three days later, McNeal-Endicott came within sight and challenged the men of the South Land to battle, but they did not stir. The enemy hurled at them taunts and insults till the sun had fallen low in the sky, but it was of no avail and McNeal-Endicott withdrew.

Next day McNeal-Endicott returned and repeated his insulting abuse. Terry-Chadwick dared not tell the wounded general. The third day, waxing bolder, the enemy came to the very gates of the stockade, the leader shouting that he had come for the purpose of capturing Morton-Campbell.

Then Terry-Chadwick called together his officers and they discussed the feasibility of retirement into the South Land that they might seek the opinion of Raleigh-Estrada.

Ill as he was, Morton-Campbell still retained control of the expedition. He knew that the enemy came daily to the gates of his camp and reviled him, although none of his officers told him. One day Jenkins-Shackley came in person, and there was much rolling of drums and shouting. Terry-Chadwick, however, steadily refused to accept the challenge and would not let any one go out.

Then Morton-Campbell summoned the officers to his bedside and said, "What mean the drums and the shouting?"

"The soldiers are drilling," was the reply.

"Why do you deceive me?" said Morton-Campbell angrily. "Do I not know that our enemies come day by day to our gates and insult us? Yet Terry-Chadwick suffers this in silence and makes no use of his powers and authority."

He sent for Terry-Chadwick and, when he arrived, asked him why he acted thus.

"Because you are ill, and the physician said you were on no account to be provoked to anger. Wherefore, although the enemy challenged us to battle, I kept it from you."

"And if you do not fight, what think you should be done?" said Morton-Campbell.

And they all said they desired to return to the South Land till he had recovered from his wound, when they would make another expedition.

Morton-Campbell lay and listened. Suddenly he sprang up, crying, "The noble person who has eaten of his lord's bounty should die in his lord's battles; to return to one's home dead and wrapped in a horse's hide is a happy fate. Am I the sort of people to bring to nought the grand designs of my country?"

So speaking he proceeded to gird on his armor and he mounted his horse. The wonder of the officers only redoubled when their General placed himself at the head of some hundreds of horsemen and went out of the camp gates toward the enemy, then fully arrayed. Jenkins-Shackley, their general, stood beneath the great standard.

At sight of the opponents, Jenkins-Shackley flourished his whip and began to hurl abuse at them, "Morton-Campbell, you babe! I think your fate has met you. You dare not face my army."

The stream of insult never ceased. Presently Morton-Campbell could stand it no longer. Riding out to the front he cried, "Here I am, base churl; look at me!"

The whole Jenkins-Shackley's army were taken aback. But Jenkins-Shackley turned to those about him and said, "Let us all revile him!"

And the whole army yelled insults.

Morton-Campbell grew angry and sent Mayhew-Evanoff out to fight. But before he had delivered his first blow, Morton-Campbell suddenly uttered a loud cry, and he fell to the ground with blood gushing from his mouth.

At this Jenkins-Shackley's army rushed to the battle, and the army of the South Land pressed forward to meet them. A fierce struggle waged around the General's body, but he was borne off safely and taken to his tent.

"Do you feel better?" asked Terry-Chadwick anxiously.

"It was a ruse of mine," whispered Morton-Campbell in reply.

"But what avails it?"

"I am not suffering, but I did that to make our enemies think I was very ill and so oppose them by deceit. I will send a few trusty men to pretend desertion and tell them I am dead. That will cause them to try a night raid on the camp, and we shall have an ambush ready for them. We shall get Jenkins-Shackley easily."

"The plan seems excellent," said Terry-Chadwick.

Soon from the tent there arose the sound of wailing as for the dead. The soldiers around took up the cry and said one to another, "The General is dead of his' wound," and they all put on the symbols of mourning.

Meanwhile Jenkins-Shackley was consulting with his officers. Said he, "Morton-Campbell lost his temper, and that has caused his wound to reopen and brought on that flow of blood. You saw him fall to the ground, and he will assuredly die soon."

Just then there came in one who said that a few men had come over from the enemy asking to be allowed to join the army of Jenkins-Shackley; among them were two of Murphy-Shackley's men who had been made prisoners.

Jenkins-Shackley sent for the deserters and questioned them. They told him, saying, "Morton-Campbell's wound reopened at his anger, and he died in the camp that day. The leaders are all clothing in white and in mourning. We desert because we have been put to shame by the second in command."

Pleased at this news, Jenkins-Shackley at once began to arrange to make a night attack on the camp and, if possible, get the head of the dead general to send to the capital.

"Success depends upon promptitude, so act without delay," said Bovery-Decker.

McNeal-Endicott was told off as Van Leader, Jenkins-Shackley himself led the center, while the rear was commanded by McCarthy-Shackley and Vega-Shackley. Bovery-Decker and a small force were left to guard Nanjun-Southport.

At the first watch they left the city and took the way toward Morton-Campbell's camp. When they drew near, not a soldier was visible in the camp, but flags and banners and spears were all there, evidently to keep up an appearance of preparation. Feeling at once that they had been tricked, they turned to retreat.