"I've a better idea," said Larry, with a chuckle.
By way of answer he pointed to the canoe, whispering:
"We'll do it; it will save us a good deal of hard work, and perhaps prevent our going astray. But the owner will be likely to object."
"All right; in with you; there's no saying when he'll be back again."
Larry Murphy was as deft in handling the paddle as his companion, and at the same moment shoved the prow clear and leaped in. He made a couple of sweeps with the implement, which sent the boat far out over the gleaming surface.
It was well that they were so prompt in their movements, for the next minute the red man burst from the woods, and came rushing and chattering toward them as if he intended to overhaul them by swimming. His words were unintelligible, being in his native tongue, but there was no mistaking his wrath.
"I belave the gintleman is excited," remarked Larry, swinging the paddle more leisurely.
Something whizzed by the head of Wharton and splashed in the water beyond. It almost grazed his cheek, and seemed to be like a cannon ball. For all purposes it might have been considered such, for had it struck the youth, the result would have been fatal.
The crazy Indian had hurled a large stone with prodigious force and accuracy. Little need, it would seem, of such a thrower carrying a firearm.
As Wharton turned his affrighted gaze around he saw the fellow about to hurl another.
"Gracious! he will kill us," exclaimed the youth, bending his head forward to dodge the terrible missile.
As Larry spoke he dropped his paddle, caught up his rifle, and, pointing toward the red man, fired.
"Heavens, Larry, you have killed him!" was the horrified exclamation of Wharton Edwards.
"Be easy now," coolly replied his companion, putting down the weapon and resuming the paddle; "he isn't hurt."
"Didn't you aim at him?" asked his friend, who, looking back, saw no signs of injury on the part of the Shawanoe.
"Not so loud," whispered Larry; "he might hear you."
The youth drove the canoe farther out into the lake, but all the time he kept his head turned so as to see every movement of the Indian.
Larry had not aimed at him; nothing in the world would have induced him to shoot the poor, demented creature; but he meant to give him a good scare, and he succeeded.