"Och, but the Ridskins are upon us!" cried out Mike.  "We must run for it, Masther Reuben dear.  Niver mind the nets, or the fish, or the mosquito bastes.  It's too much for any mortal man to stand, with the savages into the bargain.  Come along as fast as your legs can carry you; but we will find Masther Roger first.  We must not lave him behind to be scalped; and as to Jacques and Tom Hodges, if they have not taken care of themselves, it's more than we can do for them."