“Quick! The canoe!” cried Dick hoarsely. “Don’t stop to shoot. We’ve got to get away. They’re after that canoe. It’s the Indian with the scarred face!”
Sandy tumbled into the stern of the canoe in one flying leap, and as Dick shoved on the prow, he picked up his paddle and stroked backward. The canoe left the beach with a lunge, and Dick was nearly precipitated into the water as he leaped into his position in the bow. As they crouched to paddle, three shots sounded and bullets cut the water about them.
“Downstream fast,” shouted Dick. “Stay low, Sandy.”
Rifle balls were flying thick and fast as they rounded the sand point, paddling frantically after the canoe they had set adrift.
“Diable!” they could hear an enraged cry in French, as their pursuers found the canoe gone and the boys escaping.
Dick turned and looked back. All three of the men were kneeling with rifles leveled. “Duck!” he shouted to Sandy just in time.
The rifles cracked almost as one and two bullets ripped through the bottom of the canoe, plowing up splinters in their wake.
“We’ve sprung a leak,” called Sandy almost immediately. “Those shots have put the canoe out of commission!”
Dick glanced about at the bottom of the canoe. Sandy was right. The bullets had struck below the waterline and the river was gurgling in around the packs and blankets.
Dick Kent thought swiftly. There was no time to lose. The canoe was filling fast. Already it was growing perceptibly heavier. Ahead he could see the canoe they had set adrift. It was a long chance, but it was the only thing to be done, aside from swimming to the other shore and abandoning all their packs and camp equipment.
“We’ve got to switch our packs into that empty canoe.”
They redoubled their efforts on the paddles. The drifting canoe was spinning slowly in the stream. Waterlogged as they were, they yet were slowly gaining on the empty craft. Out of rifle range from the sand point, the bullets of their pursuers no longer endangered them as they skipped across the water yards short of their mark.
Slowly they overhauled the empty canoe, and at last Dick reached out and grasped the prow, hauling it to the side of their own sinking craft. Dropping their paddles then, they straddled the two gunwales and with their legs held the canoes together while with all haste they transferred their dunnage. Working grimly and silently they had almost finished when the canoes began to whirl slowly in the current. Sandy lost his balance and toppled into the water, his hoarse shout of surprise muffled as the river closed over his head.