I waited my opportunity, lying flat now on my chest, and at last, after nearly firing three or four times and always waiting for a better chance, I drew trigger upon a knot of the ducks after getting several well in a line. There was a deafening report, a sensation as if my shoulder was broken, and a thick film of smoke hid everything from my sight. But as the shot went echoing along the side of the forest, I could hear the whistling and whirring of wings where the ducks flapped along the water, rose, and swept away over the trees. Then the smoke rose, and to my great delight there lay five of the unfortunate ducks; three perfectly still, and floating slowly to the shallow below the pool, the other two flapping wildly and trying to reach the farther shore.

To get the three was easy. I had but to wait and then wade in over the shallow to where I could see the sandy and pebbly bottom quite plain. To get the wounded ducks meant a swim, and perhaps a long hunt.

"Better shoot at them again," I thought, when I shuddered, for something dark appeared behind one; there was a snap, and it disappeared, while almost at the same moment the other, which must have been nearly twenty yards away, was suddenly struck down beneath the water by something which puzzled me at first, but which the next minute I knew to be an alligator's tail.

I turned to my three, now well over the shallows, and hesitated as to whether I dared risk going after them, not knowing but that an alligator might make a rush out of the deep black pool and seize them first, or failing them perhaps seize me.

But I was hungry too, and leaping in, I secured all three birds after splashing through the water a bit, and reached the shore again in safety, but not without many an excited look round at the deep place where I knew the monsters were lurking; and as I shook the water from my legs, and stamped about on the bank, I found myself thinking what a pity it was such a lovely country should be marred by dangerous beasts and horrible reptiles like the rattlesnakes and alligators.

Then I thought of the ducks, and as I held them all three by their orange legs, and looked down at their beautifully-coloured plumage, all soft browns and chestnuts, and with wing-spots of lovely green, and having a head of the same colour, my conscience smote me, and I found myself wondering what the ducks thought that beautiful morning when they were having their baths and preening themselves ready for a long flight or a good swim. And I seemed to see them all again playing about, and passing their heads over their backs, and rubbing the points of their beaks in the oil-gland to make their plumage keep off the water. And how soft and close it was!

"What must they have thought," I said to myself, "about a monster who came with a horrible, fire-dealing weapon that strikes them down like a flash of lightning? Not much room for me to complain about the alligators!" I exclaimed. "But if I had not killed the ducks they would have killed all kinds of insects and little fishes, and if they did not kill the insects and fishes, the insects and fishes would have killed smaller ones. Everything seems to be killing everything else, and I suppose it's because we are all hungry, as I am now."

I walked sharply back along the river-bank with the sun now well up, and before long came in sight of a little cloud of smoke rising softly above the trees, and soon after I could hear the crackling of wood, and as I drew near, there was Pomp dodging about in the smoke, piling up pieces of dried stick, and making a roaring fire.

The sight of this took away all my feelings of compunction, and in imagination I began to see the brown sides of the well-roasted ducks, to smell their appetising odour, and to taste the juicy, tender bits about the bones.

"I heard you shoot um, Mass' George," cried Pomp, excitedly. "Got lubbly fire. How many?"

"Three," I said.

"Oh!"

"What's the matter?"

"On'y got flee. Dat two Mass' George, and on'y one for Pomp, an' I so dreffle hungly, I mose eat bit a 'gator."

"There'll be plenty," I said. "I shall only eat one."

"Eh? Mass' George on'y eat one duck-bird?"

"That's all."

"Mass' George sure?"

"Yes. Let's cook them."

"But is Mass' George quite sure?"

"Yes—yes—yes!"

"Oh! Den Mass' George hab dis bewfler one wid um green head. Dat's biggess and bess."

"Here, what are you going to do?" I cried, as Pomp suddenly seized the three ducks and threw them into the fire. "That's not the way to roast ducks."

"Pomp know dat, Mass' George," cried the boy, poking the birds about with a long, sharp-pointed stick, one of several which he had cut ready. "Pomp fader show um how to do ober dah."

"Ober dah" evidently meant Africa.

"Dat a way to get all de fedder off fuss. Dah, see dat?" he cried, as he turned one out scorched brown. "Now Mass' George see."

As I watched him, he cleverly ran his sharp-pointed stick through this first duck, stuck the point down into the sand, so that the bird was close in to the glowing embers, and then deftly served the others the same.

"Mass' George shoot um duck, Pomp cook um; same Pomp cook and make de cake at home. Pomp fader nebber cook. Pomp cook de fis, and de yam, and make um hominy. Pomp berry clebber 'deed, Mass' George. Ah, you try burn you 'tick an' tummle in de fire, would you, sah? No, you don't! You 'top dah an' get rock nice for Mass' George."

As he spoke he made a snatch at one of the sticks, and turned the bird, as he stuck it afresh in the sand, closer to the glowing embers, for the flame and smoke had nearly gone now, and the ducks were sputtering, browning, and beginning to give forth a tempting odour.

As the boy was evidently, as he modestly said, so "clebber," I did not interfere, but took off my shoes and stockings, wrung the latter well out, and laid them and the shoes in the warm glow to dry, a little rubbing about in the hot dry sand from the bluff soon drying my feet. Then I carefully reloaded the gun, in accordance with Morgan's instructions, making the ramrod leap well on the powder charge and wad, while Pomp looked on eagerly, his fingers working, his lips moving, and his eyes seeming to devour everything that was done.

"Pomp load um gun," he said all at once.

"You go on with your cooking," I replied; "that one's 'burning um 'tick.'"

Pomp darted at the wooden spit, and drawing it out replaced it in a better position.

"Dat duck lil rarksle," he said, showing his teeth. "Dat free time try to burn um 'tick and tummle in de fire, rock umself. Dah, you 'tan 'till, will you? Oh, I say, Mass' George, done um 'mell good?"

"Yes; they begin to smell nice."

"Dat de one hab green head. He berry juicy 'deed; dat one for Mass' George. What Mass' George going to do?"

"Put the gun and powder and shot farther away from the fire."

"What for?"

"A spark might set the powder off."

"Oh!" ejaculated Pomp. Then, "What powder do if 'park send um off?"

"Blow the fire out and send the ducks into the river."

"What? An' de 'gator get um? Pomp not cook de duck for 'gator. 'Gator eat de duck raw, and no pick um fedder. Take de gun away."

I was already doing so, and standing it up behind us against a patch of low bushes, I hung the powder and shot pouches by their straps to the iron ramrod. Then going back to my place I sat watching the cooking, as the boy turned and re-turned the birds, which grew browner and more appetising every moment.

There were faults in that cooking, no doubt. There was neither plate nor dish, no bread, no salt or pepper, and no table-cloth. But there was something else—young, healthy appetite, as we sat at last in the bright morning sunshine, drawn back now from the fire, Pomp and I, each with a roasting-stick in one hand, his knife in the other, cutting off the juicy brown bits, and eating them with the greatest of gusto, after an incision had been made, and the whole of the hardened interior had been allowed to fall out into the fire.

We hardly spoke, but went on eating, Pomp watching me and cutting the bird exactly as I did mine; then picking each bone as it was detached from the stick, and so on and on, till we had each finished his duck. Our hands were not very clean, and we had no table napkins for our lips; but as we ate that meal, I can safely say for myself that it was the most delicious repast I ever had.

Then we sat perfectly still, after throwing our sticks into the remains of the fire, reduced now to a few glowing embers.

But there is one thing more of which I must speak, that is the third duck, which, certainly the best cooked and least burned of the three, had been served to table; that is to say, its burnt stick had been stuck in the sand between us, and there it was, nicely cooling down, and looking tempting in the extreme.

Pomp looked at me, and I looked at Pomp.

"I dreffle glad we come an' 'top out all night," he said, showing his white teeth. "Mass' George, go an' shoot more duck, an' Pomp cook um."

"We haven't finished that one," I said.

"No, Mass' George, no hab finish dat oder duck."

"Well, go on; I've had quite enough."

"Pomp had quite nuff too."

"Then we'll wrap it up in the napkin, and we'll eat it by and by for lunch."

"Yes; wrap um up an' eat um bime by."

I drew out the napkin, and Pomp shot the duck off the wooden spit on to the cloth, which, with due care to avoid the addition of sand, was folded up, and then I said—

"Now, Pomp, we must find the boat as we go back."

"Mass' George go back?" he said.

"Yes, of course; and get there as soon as we can."

"Yes, Mass' George," he said, sadly. "Pomp wouldn't mind 'top if Mass' George say 'top here."

"We'll come again," I said, laughing. "Let's find the boat if we can, but we must make haste back."

"Hi! Ohey!" he shouted.

"What's the matter?" I said.

"Wha dat all gun?"



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

I looked sharply round at the bush, hardly comprehending my black companion's remark.

"What?" I said, in a confused way.

"Wha dat gun?"

"I stood it up against that bush," I said; and then, shaking off the dull stupid feeling which troubled me, darted to the bush, expecting to see that it had slipped down among the little branches.

The gun was gone, and I looked round at the other bushes dotted about.

"I put it here, didn't I?"

"Yes; Mass' George put um gun dah. Pomp know," he cried, running to me, and dropping on his knees as he pointed to the impression left in the dry sand by the butt. "Gun gone down dah."

He began scratching up the sand for a few moments, and I watched him, half hoping and believing that he might be right.

But the boy ceased as quickly as he had begun.

"I know, Mass' George," he cried, starting up and gazing toward the river. "'Gator 'fraid we come shoot um, and come out of de ribber and 'teal a gun."

"Nonsense! An alligator wouldn't do that."

"Oh, I done know. 'Gator berry wicked ole rarksle."

"Where are the marks then?" I said.

"Ah, Pomp find um foots and de mark of de tail."

He looked sharply round, so did I; but as he searched the sand I examined the bushes, feeling that I must be mistaken, and that I must have laid the gun somewhere else.

It was very stupid, but I knew people did make such mistakes sometimes; and quite convinced now that this was a lapse of memory, began to cudgel my brains to try and recall the last thing I had done with the gun.

Pomp settled that, for he came back to me suddenly, and said—

"See Mass' George put de gun dah!"

"You are sure, Pomp?" I said, as he stood pointing his black finger at the bush.

"Yes, Pomp ebber so sure."

"Did you find any alligator marks?"

"No, Mass' George, nowhere."

"Then some one must have come and stolen it while we were eating."

"How people come 'teal a gun wif Pomp and Mass' George eatin' um breakfast here?"

"I don't know. Come and look for footsteps."

"Did; and de 'gator not been."

"No, but perhaps a man has."

"Man? No man lib here."

"Let's look," I whispered—"look for men's footsteps."

The boy glanced at me wonderingly for a moment or two, then nodded his head and began to search.

Where we stood by the bush, saving that the ground had been trampled by my feet, the task would have been easy enough, for everything showed in the soft dry sand; but the bush was at the edge where the sand began running from the foot of the bluff to the river, and everywhere on the other side was dense growth; patches of shrubs, grass, dry reed and rush, where hundreds of feet might have passed, and, save to the carefully-trained eye of an Indian, nothing would have been seen.

Certainly nothing was visible to me, but the fact that it was quite possible for a man to have crawled from the forest, keeping the patches of shrubby growth between him and us, till he reached the bushes, through which he could have cautiously stolen, and passing a hand over softly, lifted the gun and its pouches from where I had stood them, and then stolen away as he had come.

One thing was evident, we had an enemy not far away; and, unarmed as we were, saving that we had our knives, the sooner we took flight the better.

All this was plain to me, but as I gazed in Pomp's face I found it was not so clear to him; there was a strange look in his eyes, his skin did not seem so black as usual, and he was certainly trembling.

"Why, Pomp," I said, "don't look like that." For though I felt a little nervous, I saw no cause for the boy's abject dread, having yet to learn that anything not comprehensible to the savage mind is set down at once as being the work of some evil spirit.

He caught my arm and looked round, the whites of his eyes showing strangely, and his thick lips seemed drawn in as if to make a thin line.

"Come 'way," he whispered. "Run, Mass' George, run, 'fore um come and cotch us."

"Who? What?" I said, half angrily, though amused.

"Hush! Done holler, Mass' George, fear um hear. Come take us bofe, like um took de gun."

"I have it," I said suddenly. "Your father has come up the river after us, and he has taken the gun to tease us. Hi! Hannibal—Vanity—Van!"

"Oh, Mass' George! Oh, Mass' George, done, done holler. Not fader. Oh, no. It somefing dreffle. Let run."

"Why isn't it your father playing a trick?"

"Him couldn't play um trick if him try. No, Mass' George, him nebber play trick. It somefing dreffle. Come 'way."

"Well, we were going back," I said, feeling rather ashamed of my eagerness to get away, and still half uneasy about the gun, as I looked up at the tree where we had slept to see if I had left it there.

No; that was impossible, because I had had it to shoot the ducks. But still I might have put it somewhere else, and forgotten what I had done.

I turned away unwillingly, and yet glad, if that can be understood, and with Pomp leading first, we began our retreat as nearly as possible over the ground by which we had come.

For some little distance we went on in silence, totally forgetting the object of our journey; but as we got more distant from the scene of our last adventure, Pomp left off running into bushes and against trees in spite of my warnings, for he had been progressing with his head screwed round first on one side then on the other to look behind him, doing so much to drive away such terror as I felt by his comical aspect, that I ended by roaring with laughter.

"Oh, Mass' George," he said, reproachfully, "you great big foolish boy, or you no laugh like dat all. You done know what am after us."

"No," I said; "but I know we lost one of our guns, and father will be very cross. There, don't walk quite so fast."

"But Pomp want to run," he said, pitifully.

"And we can't run, because of the bushes and trees. I don't think there was anything to be afraid of, after all."

"Oh! Run, Mass' George, run!" yelled Pomp; and instead of running I stood paralysed for an instant at the scene before me.

We were pretty close to the river-bank, and forcing our way through a cane brake which looked just as if it must be the home of alligators, when a man suddenly stood in the boy's path.

Quick as thought the brave little fellow sprang at him, seeing in him an enemy, and called to me to run, which of course I did not do, but, as soon as I recovered from my surprise, ran on to his help. As I did so the path seemed darkened behind me, I heard a quick rustling, my arms were seized, and the next moment I was thrown down and a knee was on my chest.

"Oh, Mass' George, why didn't you run?"

Poor Pomp's voice rang out from close beside me in despairing tones, and I wrenched my head round, just catching a glimpse of him through the canes. Then I looked up in the stern faces of my captors, thinking that I had seen them before, though no doubt it was only a similarity of aspect that struck me, as I realised that we had fallen into the hands of the Indians once more.

They did not give us much time to think, but after taking away our knives twisted up some lithe canes and secured our wrists and arms behind us, two holding each of us upright, while another fastened our hands.

Then they drew back from us, and stood round looking at us as if we were two curiosities.

"Well, this is a nice game, Pomp," I said at last.

"Yes, dis nice game, Mass' George. Why you no run away?"

"How could I?"

"How you could? You ought run, jump in libber and go 'cross. Wish I run and tell de capen an' Mass' Morgan."

"Ah!" I ejaculated.

"You tie too tight, Mass' George?"

"Yes, but I was thinking of something else. Pomp, those Indians are going to attack our place and the settlement, and no one will know they are coming."

"Pomp hope so," he said, sulkily, and screwing himself about with the pain caused by his tight bonds.

"What?"

"Den de capen an' Mass' Morgan shoot um, an' Serb um right."

"But they will take them by surprise."

"Wait bit. We soon get dese off, and go down tell 'em Injum come."

"I'm afraid we shall not have the chance."

Just then a firm brown hand was clapped on my shoulder, and a stalwart Indian signed to me to go on through the canes.

I obeyed mechanically, seeing the while that the half-dozen Indians who had captured us had silently increased to over a dozen quietly-moving, stealthy-looking fellows, who passed through the dense thicket, almost without a sound, and with their eyes watchfully turned in every direction, as if they were always on the look-out for danger. And so I walked awkwardly on, feeling, now that my arms were bound behind me, as if at any moment I should stumble and fall.

The mystery of the gun's disappearance was clear enough now, without the proof which came later on. It was quite plain to me that some of these strange, furtive-looking savages had crawled up behind the bush and carried off the piece, after which they had lain in ambush waiting for us to retrace our steps along the track we had broken down the previous day, and then pounced upon us and made us prisoners.

At my last encounter they had contented themselves with following us home, but now everything seemed to betoken mischief. They seemed to me to be better armed, and had begun to treat us roughly by binding our arms, and this it struck me could only mean one thing—to keep us from getting away and giving the alarm.

I felt too now—for thoughts came quickly—that the report of the gun that morning had guided them to our temporary camp, that and the smoke of the fire; and as I felt how unlucky all this was, I found that we were getting farther and farther from the river, and in a few minutes more we were in an open portion of the wood, where about fifty more Indians were seated about a fire.

A shout from our party made them all start to their feet and come to meet us, surrounding and staring at us in a fierce, stolid way that sent a chill through me as the question rose—Would they kill us both?

In a dull, despondent way the answer seemed to me—yes; not just then, for we were both placed back against a young tree, and hide ropes being produced, we were tightly bound to the trunks and left, while the Indians all gathered together in a group, squatted down, and sat in silence for a time smoking.

Then all at once I saw one jump up, axe in hand, to begin talking loudly, gesticulating, waving his axe, and making quite a long address, to which the others listened attentively, grunting a little now and then, and evidently being a good deal influenced by his words.

At last he sat down and another took his place, to dance about, talking volubly the while, and waving his axe too, and evidently saying threatening things, which, as he pointed at us now and then, and also in the direction of the settlement, I felt certain must relate to their expedition.

In spite of my anxiety about my fate, I could not help feeling interested in these people, for everything was so new and strange. But other thoughts soon forced themselves upon me. They must, I felt, be going on to the settlement, and it was my duty at any cost to get away, and give the alarm. But how?

"Pomp," I said, after a time, "do you think we could get loose and run back home?"

The boy looked at me with his face screwed up.

"Pomp done know," he said.

"Could you get the knots undone?"

"Pomp 'fraid try. Come and hit um. Going to kill us, Mass' George?"

"Oh, no; I don't think there's any fear of that."

"Then why they tie us up?"

"Don't talk so loud. It makes them look round."

"Look dah!"

"What at?"

"Dah de gun. Dat big ugly Injum got um. Him fief."

"Never mind the gun," I said. "Let's think about getting away."

"Yes; dat's what Pomp do fink about, Mass' George."

"If they had not taken our knives, I might perhaps have cut ourselves free. Oh, I'd give anything to let them know at home. Look here; if you can get loose, never mind about me; run back home, and warn my father to escape to the settlement."

"You tell um," said Pomp, shortly.

"But I mean if you can get free without me."

"What, you fink Pomp run 'way and leab Mass' George all 'lone?"

"Yes; it is to save those at home."

"Capen flog um for going."

"No, no; he would not."

"Fader knock um down an' kick um."

"I tell you he would not. Try all you can to get loose and creep away when they are not looking."

"Always looking," said Pomp, shortly; and it was quite true, for some one or other of the Indians always seemed to be on the watch, and after trying to wrench myself clear, I stood resting my aching legs by hanging a little on the rope, for the hours were slowly gliding by, and afternoon came without relief.

At last a couple of the men brought us some water and a piece each of badly-roasted and burned deer-flesh, setting our hands at liberty so that we could eat and drink, but leaving the hide ropes holding us tightly to the trees, and sitting down to watch us, listening intently as we spoke, but evidently not understanding a word.

"Well," I said, after a few minutes, during which I had been eating with very poor appetite, "why don't you eat, Pomp?"

"Done like um. 'Mell nasty."

"It's only burnt," I said.

"How Mass' George know what um eat?"

"What?" I said, looking curiously at the meat.

"Pomp fink it poor lil nigger been kill and cook um."

"Nonsense; it's deer's flesh."

"Mass' George sewer?"

"Yes, quite."

"Oh!"

That was all the boy said, for he set to work directly and soon finished his portion, taking a good deep drink afterward; and as soon as he had done one of the Indians secured his hands again, a task which necessitated a loosening of the hide rope, Pomp submitting with a very good grace.

Then came my turn, and as soon as I was secured, the Indians went slowly back to where the others were grouped, and squatted down to listen to the talking going on.

It was a weary, weary time; the sun was getting lower, and birds came and chirped about in the dense branches of the trees to which we were bound, and I felt a strange feeling of envy as I looked up from time to time and thought of their being at liberty to come and go. And all through those painfully long hours the talking went on constantly about the fire, which one or the other of the Indians made up by throwing on some branches of wood.

As I watched them, I saw that they kept going and coming in different directions, so that the number in the camp did not vary much, and though the day wore on, there was no cessation of the talking, for there was always a fresh Indian ready to leap to his feet, and begin relating something with the greatest vehemence, to which the rest listened attentively.

"They must be going on to the settlement to-night," I thought; and as I noted their bows, arrows, axes, and knives, I conjured up horrors that I felt would be sure to take place if we could not get free and give the alarm.

All sorts of plans occurred to me. The forest would, I felt, be full of the enemy, and if we could get loose there would be no chance of our stealing away without being captured. But could we get across the river in safety, and make our way along the farther bank; or could we swim down? I shuddered as I thought of what would be the consequences of trying such a feat.

Then my ponderings were interrupted by the coming of a couple more of the Indians, who examined our fastenings and then went back.

"Mass' George 'leep?" said Pomp suddenly, in a low voice.

"Asleep? No. Who could go to sleep like this?"

"No, not nice go 'leep 'tanning up," said Pomp, coolly; and there was a long pause, with the monotonous talking of the Indians still going on.

All at once one of the Indians who had last examined our bonds came back, peeping about him inquiringly, examining our ropes, and looking about our feet for some minutes before going back, carefully scanning the ground and bushes as he went, and after a good deal of hesitation reseating himself.

By this time I was utterly wearied out, and hung forward from the rope with my head upon my chest, gazing down hopelessly at the thick moss and other growth at our feet.

"Mass' George 'leep?" whispered Pomp again.

"No, no," I said, sadly; "I could not sleep at a time like this."

"'Cause Mass' George no go to sleep."

I looked at him despondently, and saw that he was amusing himself by picking the moss and leaves with his toes, getting a tuft together, snatching it off, and dropping it again, almost as cleverly as a monkey would have done the same thing.

Then I ceased to notice it, for I saw a couple of the Indians get up from the fireside, and come to examine us again. They felt all the knots, and appeared satisfied, going back to the fire as before, while others threw on fresh sticks. Then the smoking and talking went on, and the flames cast their shadows about, and on the trees now in a peculiarly weird way.

We were almost in darkness, but they were in what seemed to be a circle or great halo of red light, which shone upon their copper-coloured skins, and from the axes and the hilts of the knives they had stuck in the bands of their deer-skin leggings.

"Soon be quite dark now, Mass' George," whispered Pomp; "den you see."

"See? See what? Their fire?"

"Wait bit—you see."

My heart gave a great throb, and I wanted to speak, but the words in my agitation would not come. It was evident that the boy had some plan afoot, and as I waited for him to speak again, feeling ashamed that this poor black savage lad should be keener of intellect than I, he suddenly began to laugh.

"Pomp," I whispered, "what is it?"

"You mose ready, Mass' George?"

"Ready? What for?"

"You see dreckerly. You know what dat Injum look about for?"

"No."

"Lose um knife."

"Well?"

"Pomp got um."

"You have? Where?"

"Down dah," he said, making a sign with one foot toward the loose moss and leaves he had picked.

"Why, Pomp," I whispered, joyfully, "how did you manage that?"

"Ciss! Coming."

Two of the Indians had risen again from the fire, and once more approached, feeling the knots, and to my despair, binding us more securely with a couple of fresh ropes of hide.

Then I saw their dark figures go half way to the fire, return and pass near us, and out along the banks of the river toward the settlement.

Then six more rose and went slowly out of sight among the trees, and I felt that these must be going to form outposts to guard the little camp from attack.

"Now, Mass' George," whispered Pomp—"ah, look dah."

I was already looking, and saw that about a dozen more left the fireside to go out in different directions, their tall dark figures passing out of sight among the trees.

"What are you going to do with the knife?" I whispered softly.

"'Top; you see," said the boy.

"But how did you get it?"

"You see dat Injum come feel de rope. He 'tuck Pomp head down under um arm while he tie de knot hurt um, so Pomp mean to bite um; but Pomp see de handle ob de knife 'tick up close to um mouf, and um take hold wid um teef, pull um out, and let um fall and put um foot ober um."

"Oh, Pomp!" I said.

"Den he gone, Pomp push um out ob sight and put um foot ober um again, and now I juss pick um up wid Pomp toe."

I heard a faint rustle, and then he whispered after a faint grunting sound—

"Got um."

I stared sidewise at where he was—only about six feet away—and half fancied that I could see him pick up the knife with his toes, and bend his foot up till he could pass the blade into his hand.

"Hff!"

"What's the matter?" I whispered, as I heard a faint ejaculation.

"Pomp cut umself."

Then I heard a curious sawing sound, which seemed to be loud enough to reach the Indians' ears, but as I looked, they were all talking, and I turned my eyes again in the direction of my companion, whose black body and light drawers had stood out plainly in the faint glow of the fire a minute before, and I could only just restrain an exclamation, for he was not there.

At the same moment his lips were at my ear—

"'Tan 'till."

I obeyed, and felt the tension and loosening as he rapidly cut through the hide rope and the cane bonds which held me; but I was so stiff, and my wrists were so numbed, that the feeling had gone from my hands.

"Mass' George ready?"

"No; yes," I said, as I gazed wildly at the group about the fire, and felt that our movements must be seen. But the Indians made no sign, and Pomp went on—

"Injum ebberywhere now. Can't run away."

"But we must," I whispered.

"Catchum gain, dreckerly. Dis here tree. Mass' George go up fuss."

"Up the tree!" I faltered.

Then grasping the cleverness of the boy's idea, I stretched out my arms, seized a branch overhead, and in spite of my numbness, swung myself up and stood on it, holding by the branch of the great pine close behind the two small trees to which we had been bound.

Pomp was beside me directly. "Up!" he whispered; and as silently as I could, I crept on toward the dense crown, the many horizontal branches giving good foot-hold, and the fire gleaming among the needle-like foliage as I went higher, with Pomp always ready to touch me and try to guide.

It was a huge tree, quite a cone of dense foliage, after we were some distance up, and we had just reached the part where great, flat, heavily-laden boughs spread between us and the ground, when Pomp drew himself quickly to my side, and laid his hand on my mouth.

It was not necessary, for at the same moment as he I had noted the danger, just catching sight of two black shadows on the ground, which I knew were those of a couple of the Indians approaching our trees from the fire.

Then we could see no more, but remained there clinging to the boughs as if part of the tree itself, wondering what was to come.

It seemed quite a space of time before from just below I heard a discordant yell which thrilled through me, and actually for the moment made me loose my hold. But I was clinging fast again directly, as the yell was answered by a couple of score of throats; there was the rapid beat of feet, the crunching of dead sticks and crushing of bushes, and I clung there with closed eyes, listening to a confused gabble of excited voices, and waiting for what I seemed to know would come next.

For in my excitement I could in fancy picture the Indians examining the cut thongs lying where they had dropped by the trees, and then one great stalwart fellow took a step out from the rest and pointed up to where we two clung forty feet from the ground, and I saw a score of arrows fitted to the bow-strings, and their owners prepare to shoot and bring us down.

I cannot attempt to describe the sensation that thrilled through me in what was almost momentary, nor the wild thoughts flashing in my brain. I only know that I wondered whether the arrow which pierced me would hurt much, and thought what a pity it was that the tree we were in did not hang over the stream, so that we might have fallen in the water.

But no flight of arrows rattled among the boughs, and all we heard was the gabble of excited voices. Then came yell after yell from a little distance farther away from the settlement, and from the excited questioning which seemed to follow, I knew that a number of the Indians had returned to the camp to talk hurriedly to those beneath the tree.

Then there were a couple of yells given in a peculiar tone, and a faint series of sounds reached us, suggesting to me that the whole party had spread out, and were quickly and cautiously creeping along through the forest from the edge of the stream for some distance in, and then all was still.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A pair of warm lips at my ear made me start again.

"Dey all 'tupid, dem Injum. I know dey nebber tink we get up tree. Think we run home. All gone. Come down."

"No, no; it is not safe," I whispered.

"Yes; all gone dat way. We go oder."

He was already descending almost as rapidly as a monkey, and I followed as fast as I could, fully expecting to be seized; but all was silent, and the fire had sunk quite low as we bent down and crept along by the edge of the opening, and directly after were well in the shelter and darkness of the trees, with the fire behind only making its presence known by a dull glow.

"Where are you going?" I whispered at last.

"Get away from Injum. Come!"

He said this shortly, and I began thinking that it was our wisest course to get right away, and, as soon as we could find a spot at daybreak, cross to the other side, and then try to thread our way back home. But a curiously dull, deadening feeling came over me, as I felt that the Indians must now get there first, and that we should be too late to give the alarm.

I was just thinking this when Pomp stopped short.

"Mass' George take off um shoes," he whispered. "Carry um. Injum no see footmarks a-morrow."

I hurriedly did as he suggested, for there was wisdom in what he said, and I hoped that the print of my stockinged feet, if our trail was found and followed, might pass for the impressions made by moccasins.

I did not know much then about such matters, but still I had heard a good deal of talk about the skill of the Indians in tracking, and naturally felt nervous as I immediately began magnifying their powers, and fancied that as soon as it was day they would take up our trail like a pack of hounds, and follow it step by step, first my clumsy shoe-prints, then Pomp's bare feet, with the great toe spreading wide out from the others, which all seemed long and loose, as I had often noticed and laughed at when I had seen them in the mud or sand. In fact, I had more than once followed him by his footprints, and as I recalled all this, I seemed to see the fierce-looking savages coming on swiftly, and urged Pomp to make haste, though my heart sank as I felt that every step took us farther into the wilderness, and with the exception of the knife the boy had secured, we were without arms.

"Can't go no fasser, Mass' George," he said; "so dark. But done you be 'fraid. Dem on'y 'tupid savage. Pomp too clebber let um cotch him 'gain."

In spite of my anxiety I could not help smiling at my companion's conceit, and his reference to "'tupid" savages. Pomp's connection with civilisation was making its mark upon him in other ways beside the rapid manner in which he had acquired our tongue.

And so we tramped on hour after hour, going, as I knew by the stars whenever we got a glimpse of them, nearly due west, and trying to avoid breaking branch or trampling down thick patches of growth by making a detour.

Of course this hindered us a good deal, but still it was the surest way of avoiding recapture; and at last, after our long, weary walk, whose monotony I had relieved by softly chafing my arms and wrists to get rid of the remains of the numbness produced by the bonds, there came a familiar note or two from the trees overhead, and I knew that in a very short time it would be light.

"Tired, Pomp?" I said.

"No, Mass' George, but I dreffle hungly 'gain. Oh! Dem ugly tief 'teal de gun. No get duck for breakfass, eh?"

"Let's think about escaping and getting back to the house before these savages.—Ah, it's getting light."

I remember how eagerly I said this, as I saw the pale grey appearing through the leaves, and making the tall, gloomy-looking trunks stand up like great columns in all directions.

"Now," I said, "where do you think the river is?"

"Ober dah," said Pomp, without a moment's hesitation; and he pointed to the left.

"Is it far?"

"No, not far."

"Let's get to it at once then."

We struck off again, bearing to the left, and just at sunrise found that we were at the edge of the forest once more, with a well-defined track, showing where the river ran. Where we stood we were under the shade of the great trees, where scarcely anything grew beneath the spreading, tangled branches, while just beyond them there was a dense thicket of succulent growth glittering in the sunshine, where the leaves were still moist with dew, and some hundred or a hundred and fifty yards away there once more was the other edge of the forest, rising up over a rich band of growth similar to that which was close to where we stood.

The river lay between, I knew, though invisible from where we stood; and for the moment I felt more hopeful, for, after the long, dark tramp through the wilderness, we seemed to be now on the broad high-road which led straight past home.

Then my heart sank again, as I felt that perhaps the Indians were already on our track, and that even if they were not, they were between us and safety.

My reverie was interrupted by Pomp, who said briskly—

"Now, Mass' George, what you tink?"

"We must get across the river at once."

Pomp made a grimace.

"How we 'wim ober dah wid de 'gator all awaiting to hab us for breakfass, Mass' George?"

I shuddered as I thought of the task, but it seemed as if that was the only thing to do, and then tramp along the opposite bank downward.

"What are you doing?" I said, as the boy began to step about, cautiously penetrating once more into the forest, and stopping at last beside a moderate-sized pine, whose trunk was dotted with the stumps of dead branches, till about fifty feet from the ground, where it formed a pretty dense tuft, whose top was well in the sunlight.

"Now we go up dah and hide, and rest a bit."

"But why not try that tree, or that, or that?" I said; and I pointed rapidly to three or four more, all far more thickly clothed with branch and foliage.

"If Injum come he fink p'raps we hide in dah, an' look. No fink we get up dat oder tree. Injum berry 'tupid."

"But hadn't we better try and get across or down the stream?"

Pomp shook his head.

"See Injum, and dey dreffle cross dat we run 'way. Wait a bit, Mass' George."

"But my father—yours—and Morgan?"

"Well, what 'bout um, Mass' George?"

"We ought to warn them."

"Dey must take care ob demself. No good to go and be caught. Dat not help um fader."

There was so much truth in this that I did not oppose Pomp's plan of getting up in the tree, and hiding until the pursuit was over. For it was only reasonable to suppose that after a thorough hunt in one direction, the Indians would come in the other. Besides, I was utterly wearied out the previous evening, and glad to rest my tired limbs by hanging against the rope, and taking the weight off my feet. Since then we had tramped through the night many dreary miles, made more painful by the constant stress of avoiding obstacles, and the sensation of being hunted by a pack of savages whose cries might at any moment rise upon the ear.

It was not a comfortable resting-place for one who felt as if he would give anything to throw himself down and lie at full length, but it promised to be safe, and following Pomp's lead, I climbed steadily up the tree to where the dense head formed quite a scaffolding of crossing boughs, and here, after getting well out of sight of any one who might be passing below, we seated ourselves as securely as possible, and waited for what was to come next.

"Wait Injum gone, and we kedge fis' and roast um for dinner," said Pomp; and then we sat for some little time in silence, listening for the slightest sound.

Birds we heard from time to time, and now and then the rustle of a squirrel as it leaped from bough to bough, but nothing else till there were, one after the other, four ominous splashings in the river, which gave me a very uncomfortable feeling with regard to crossing to the other side, and I looked at Pomp.

"Dat 'gators," he said shortly. "No 'wim cross de ribber."

Then quite a couple of hours must have passed, and Pomp began to fidget about terribly, making so much noise that if the Indians had been anywhere at hand, they must have heard.

"Hush!" I said; "sit still."

"Can't, Mass' George," he said sharply. "I so dreffle hungly."

"Yes, so am I. What are you going to do?"

"Get down again. Injum no come now."

I hesitated; and as I was heartily sick of waiting, and famished, I made myself believe that our enemies were not pursuing us, and descended quickly to look at my companion.

"What we do now, Mass' George—kedge fis?"

"If we can," I said; "but how?"

"Pomp show Mass' George."

He led on through the thick growth just outside the forest edge, and looking sharply from side to side, soon pitched upon a couple of long, thin, tapering canes, which he hacked off and trimmed neatly, so that they formed a pair of very decent fishing-rods, and he looked at me triumphantly.

"Dah!" he said.

"But where are the hooks and lines?"

Pomp's face was wonderful in its change.

"Wha de hookum line?" he said.

"Yes, you can't catch fish like that."

Scratching the head when puzzled must be a natural act common to all peoples, for the boy gave his woolly sconce a good scratch with first one hand and then the other.

"Dat berry 'tupid," he said at last; "Pomp no 'tink of dat. What we do now?"

I stood musing for a few minutes as puzzled as he was. Then the bright thought came, and I took the lighter of the two canes, cut off the most pliant part, and then tearing my silk neckerchief in thin strips, I split the end of the cane, thrust in the haft of the knife, so that it was held as by a fork, and bound the cane tightly down the length of the knife-handle, and also below, so that the wood should split no farther; and as the knife was narrow in blade, and ran to a sharp point, we now had a formidable lance, with shaft fully twelve feet long.

"There!" I said triumphantly in turn, as I looked at Pomp.

"'Tick um froo de fis?" he said.

"Yes. We must find some deep pool, and see if we cannot spear something, so as to be food for the day."

"Mass' George 'tick um fis, Pomp find um."

I nodded, eager enough to try and get something in the way of food, so that we might be better able to bear our day's journey, for I felt that somehow we must get back; but I always hesitated from starting, lest we should be seen by pursuing Indians, and being recaptured, have no chance of giving the alarm at home.

Pomp was not long in finding a deep hole close under the bank, in whose clear, tree-shaded water I could see about a dozen fish slowly gliding about. They were only small, but anything was food for us then; and introducing my lance cautiously, I waited my opportunity, and then struck rapidly at a fish.

Vain effort! The fish was out of reach before the point of the knife could reach him; and a few more such strokes emptied the hole, but not in the way I intended.

"Find another," I said; and Pomp crept along, and soon signed to me to come.

As he made way for me, and I crept to the edge, I felt a thrill of pleasure, for there, close under the bank, just balanced over some water-weed, was a fine fish about a foot and a half long.

"If I can get you," I thought, "we shall do."

Carefully getting my spear-shaft upright, I lowered the point, and aiming carefully, I struck.

Whether I aimed badly, or the refraction of the water was not allowed for, I cannot say, but there was no result. I only saw a quivering of the surface and the fish was off into the river.

The same result for a dozen more tries, and then Pomp said protestingly—

"I nebber tink dat ob any good."

"But it is good if I could strike one," I said, testily.

"Um on'y tummle off 'gain, Mass' George."

"Never mind; try and find another good hole, I'll do it yet."

He gave his head a rub and went on along the river-side, peering among the overhanging bushes, and one way and another we made a trail that any one could have followed; but likely holes and pools were scarce now, and I was getting hot, faint, and weary, when, after creeping close to the edge of the stream again, Pomp signed to me to give him the lance.

I hesitated for a moment, not liking to give up, but ended by passing the spear; and, taking it, Pomp lay flat down, crept to the edge where the bank overhung the river, as it proved, very gently thrust his eyes beyond, drew back, and quickly picked a good-sized bunch of long grass, which he bound at one end, opened the bunch at the other, and put it on like a cap, the result being that the long grassy strands hung right over his face loosely.

He laughed at me, and crept back again, moving his head slowly to and fro for a few moments, as if to get the occupants of the pool used to his presence.

Then very slowly and cautiously he manipulated the lance shaft, so that it was upright, and holding it with both hands lowered the point down and down till six feet had disappeared, then seven, eight, nine at least; and as I was thinking how deep it must be down there, the long cane became stationary, with the boy's hands holding it above his head.

I stood leaning forward, wondering what luck he would have, and full of hope, for I was too hungry to feel envious and hope that he would miss. But still he did not strike, and the moments glided on till I was getting quite out of patience, and about to creep forward and look down to see how big the fish might be, when, quick as thought, down went the shaft with a tremendous dig, and then, with the cane quivering exceedingly, Pomp seemed to be holding something he had pinned tightly down against the bottom, till its first fierce struggles were at an end.

"Got him?" I exclaimed, joyfully.

"Pomp 'tick knife right froo um," he panted; and then springing up, he rapidly drew the shaft from the water, hand over hand, till, to my intense astonishment, he raised to the bank, muddy, dripping, and flapping heavily, the largest terrapin I had seen, and putting his foot upon it, he drew out the spear, which had transfixed it right in the middle of the back.

"Dah!" he exclaimed; and seizing his capture, he led the way into the forest, where, risking discovery, we soon had a fire of dead sticks and pine-needles blazing merrily over the shell of our terrapin, off which we made at last, if not a good meal, a sufficiently satisfying one to give us spirit for trying to get back home.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

"Now, Pomp," I said, after we had each lain down and had a good hearty drink of clear water, "the way to get home is to make a raft and float down the river."

"Don't want raft—want um boat," he said.

"Do you know what a raft is?" I said.

"No, Mass' George."

I explained to him, and he shook his head.

"'Gator come and pick Pomp and Mass' George off."

"We must make it so big that they could not."

"How make big raft?—no chopper to cut down tree."

"We must cut down and tie together bundles of canes," I said, after a long pause, well occupied by thinking. "They will bear us if we lie down upon them. We have a knife; let's try."

It was no easy task to get the knife free, for the threads by which it was bound into the split end of the cane had swollen; but it was clear at last, and selecting a suitable spot where the shore was quite a cane brake, we toiled away cutting and tying together bundle after bundle of canes, till we had six which roughly resembled as many big trusses of straw. These we secured to four of the stoutest canes we could find, passing them through the bands crosswise, and after a good deal of difficulty, and at the risk of undoing our work, we managed to thrust it off the bank into the river, where, to my great delight, upon trying it, the buoyancy far exceeded my expectations. In fact, though we could not have stood upon it, lying down it supported us well, and without any hesitation, after cutting a couple of light poles for steering or directing, we thrust off from the side, and began gliding down the stream.

From that moment it seemed as if our troubles were over, for we had little difficulty in keeping well out from the overhanging boughs, while a thrust or two with our poles enabled us to avoid fallen trees and patches of growth rising from the river shallows.

I soon felt convinced that if the bands we had made would hold out, we should have no difficulty in floating down, for I could recall no rapids or falls likely to give us trouble. Certainly we had seen nor heard neither. Our risks were from the collapse of our raft, from the reptiles that we kept seeing from time to time as we glided slowly on, and from the Indians, whom, as I scanned the bank, I expected moment by moment to see start from the dense growth which fringed the sides with a yell.

If we could have felt secure, the ride down the river would have been delightful, for it was all in the bright sunshine, with a wall of the loveliest verdure on either side. Flowers hung in clusters, or sprang from the moist banks; birds flitted here and there, and every now and then some great heron or crane sprang up with flapping wings and harsh cry at being disturbed while fishing.

But every now and then an excited movement on the part of Pomp told me that an alligator was in sight, sunning himself on a shoal, or where he had beaten down the reedy growth as he had crawled out upon the bank.

Such movements on the boy's part were perilous, the side of the raft going down slowly and steadily, till I forced him to lie still.

"They will not touch us," I said, "unless we are struggling in the water. Do you want to fall in or upset the raft?"

He shuddered, and his eyes rolled a little, but he lay still, and we glided on till we must have gone down a couple of miles, when all at once Pomp uttered a cry.

"Hush!" I said, despairingly. "You will be heard."

"Nebber mind. Quick, Mass' George! Push! Push!"

I could not understand what he meant, but it was evident that something was wrong, and there was no time to ask for an explanation; so I helped all I could to push the raft toward the farther shore, convinced that the Indians were upon us, and that we must seek safety in the forest once again.

It was easy enough to float with the stream, but hard work to make the raft to move as we wished, and we must have gone down fully a hundred yards farther before there was a chance to seize an overhanging branch, and tow the raft to a clear piece of the farther bank, on to which Pomp scrambled at once.

"Quick, Mass' George, quick!" he cried; and leaving me to follow, he disappeared at once in the dense cane and bush.

I was not long in following; and as I got ashore I saw the raft caught by an eddy, as it rose relieved from my weight, and as I plunged into the thicket I had a glimpse of it being carried out into the swift stream.

I was too much excited and hurried to follow Pomp, whom I heard crashing on before me, to pause to think about our retreat being now cut off by water, unless we made a new raft. The Indians must be there within view, I felt; but why did no arrows come; and why did not my companion plunge at once into the forest?

The explanation came directly, as I struggled on, seeing my route marked by trampled down reed and broken twig, for Pomp suddenly shouted—

"I got um, Mass' George."

What had he got? Something eatable, I felt, for he was always hungry; and to obtain this we had lost our raft, and should have all the work to do over again.

"Hush!" I whispered, angrily; "you will be heard."

"Done matter now," came from close at hand, though I could see nothing yet. "Pomp fine um."

I struggled out of the low brushwood, and came into a more open part of the bank, and there stood in astonishment, to find my companion dancing with delight, and pointing to where, six feet above my head, just as it had been left by the subsiding of the water, and on a nearly even keel, was the lost boat, perched among the bushes, and apparently none the worse for its journey.

"Oh, Pomp!" I cried, as excited now as he, "this is a find."

"See juss lit' bit ob um back up dah, Mass' George," he said. "Come try and get um down."

I beat and pressed down the bushes as much as I could, and together we reached the stern of the boat; but as I touched it a fresh thought arose to damp my spirits.

There was the boat, but in what condition was it? It did not seem possible that it could have been drifting about in that flood and left here without damage—a hole made by some jagged projecting tree branch, or a plank started.

"Now den, Mass' George, pull."

I dragged at the stem, and then uttered a warning cry and threw myself back, for the boat was so lightly perched on the bushes that it came down with a rush, and as we started up again, and examined it, as far as I could see it was completely uninjured, and even the oars were in their places beneath the thwarts.

The rest of the journey toward the water was not quite so easy, but we tugged and lifted, and by degrees got it on the few yards farther, and at last had the satisfaction of sending it crashing down into a bed of reedy growth, and springing in to push it onward into the stream, where, once clear of the dense water grasses, it began to glide down easily and well.

Now that the excitement of the discovery and launching of the boat was over, it all seemed to have been a kind of day-dream; and though I took my seat on a thwart, and got an oar over the side, I could hardly believe it real till I recalled that it was possible that our actions had all been watched, and that amongst the trees and bushes of the other side dozens of keen eyes might be aiming arrows at us, and the oar almost dropped from my hand.

Pomp was thinking of our enemies too, for, as he got his oar over the side, and was looking down stream, he exclaimed suddenly—

"Yah! Who 'fraid now? Look, Mass' George, dat big ugly ole 'gator, dah."

"Pomp!" I cried, in an excited whisper; and I half rose to fling myself down, to lie in shelter of the boat's side.

For at that moment, from some distance off, came a cry that I recognised as an Indian yell.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

I do not suppose that many who read this have ever heard a Red Indian's cry, and I hope those who have not never will. It was no doubt invented on purpose to scare an enemy, and it answers its purpose thoroughly.

To me it sounded blood-curdling, and a curious sensation ran through me, as if the blood was chilling in my veins. But on thinking of it afterwards, I did not believe that it curdled, and on talking the matter over just before sitting down to write this narrative of my boyish adventures, my doctor said it was all nonsense; that the sensation was produced by the nerves, and that if a body's blood curdled there would be an end of him at once.

Of course the doctor was right, for the effect of that cry was to make me drop down in the boat again, whisper to Pomp to pull, and row with all my might.

Then another yell came from our right, and was answered from the forest, the Indian who shouted evidently being not very far away.

"Hear dat, Mass' George?" said Pomp.

"Yes; pull hard. It is the Indians."

"Well, who car' for old Injum? Dey can't cotch us now."

"Don't be too sure," I whispered. "There may be some of them waiting to shoot at us with their bows and arrows."

Pomp turned his head quickly over his right shoulder to look at the low bushes and reedy plants by the river-bank, and in doing so thrust his oar too deeply down, with the result that he received a blow in the chest, his legs rose up in the air, and his head went down between my legs.

He lay on his back for a moment staring wildly up at me over his forehead, his eyes rolling and his mouth wide.

"Why Mass' George do dat?" he cried.

"I didn't, you stupid little nigger," I cried, angrily. "Get up and mind your oar. You caught a crab. Pull!"

Pomp scrambled back in his place, and began to pull again as hard as he could, for my voice had rather startled him.

"What Mass' George say?" he whispered.

"Pull!"

"Yes, I pull; but what Mass' George say 'fore dat?"

"I said you caught a crab."

"Didn't! It was great big terrapum."

"I mean you put your oar in too deep."

"Den what for say catch um crab? Mass' George say Injum in de bush shootin' at Pomp, and den he look round an' no Injum dah; Mass' George play trick to fright um, and den call poor Pomp 'tupid lil nigger."

"Will you hold your tongue and row?" I whispered fiercely.

"Pomp can't hold um tongue and pull de oar bofe togedder."

"Hush!"

Pow—ow—ow—ow—ow—ow! Came faintly from among the trees, and Pomp turned sharply round, with circles of white showing round the dark part of his eyes; but this time he kept his oar out of the water, and the boat instead of turning toward the side continued to glide swiftly down the stream.

"Dat de Injum?" he whispered.

"Yes. Pull—hard!"

He swung round in his place, and began to row again so sturdily that I had to work hard to keep the boat's head straight; and the stream favouring us, we went on down at a rapid rate, though every now and then I was obliged to whisper to him to easy as we neared some sharp curve or sandbank, to avoid which obstacles I had to keep turning round to look ahead.

We had been rowing steadily like this for some time now without hearing the cries of the Indians, but I did not feel any the more confident, for I knew enough of their habits to think that when they were most silent the greatest danger might be near. The banks glided slowly by us, and we had this great advantage, that even if we slackened speed the boat still travelled fast. But Pomp worked hard, and evidently believing that the danger was entirely past, his spirits rose again and he began to laugh.

"Poor ole Injum," he said; "I berry sorry for um. Poor ole Injum lose um knife. Pomp wonner what um say. How soon we get home now, Mass' George?"

"Oh, it will take hours yet," I replied; and just then I turned my head to see that we were rapidly approaching a ridge of sand right in the middle of the river. I was about to give my oar a vigorous tug, when I noted that the stream divided, and ran in two swift currents on either side of the ridge. As we then were, I saw that the boat would go through the narrower one—the swifter evidently; and at the same moment a pile of wood and dead rubbish on the sandspit ceased to obstruct the view, and to my horror I saw that the little long islet, whose sands were only just above the level of the water, was occupied by a group of seven or eight alligators, the nearest being a monster, the rest varying to the smallest, which was not above three feet long.

I involuntarily ceased rowing and Pomp did the same, just as we were entering the narrow channel, and so close to the sandspit, that the blade of the boy's oar held ready for the next dip swept over the sand.

Pomp was gazing in the other direction, scanning the river-bank; and as I saw what was about to happen, I said in a quick whisper—

"Look out!"

Almost as I spoke, the blade of Pomp's oar swept over the rugged horny coat of the largest alligator, which, like the rest, was sleeping in the hot sunshine perfectly ignorant of our near approach.

The effect was instantaneous. As the boy turned sharply round to look out, the great reptile sprang up, opened its huge jaws, and made a snap at the oar-blade, whisked round its tail, striking the boat, and then made a series of plunges to reach the water on the other side, its actions alarming the rest, which on their retreat made the sandspit seem alive, and the water splash and foam; while Pomp uttered a yell of horror, loosed his hold of his oar, and dived down into the boat, to rise again and stare over the stern as soon as I told him the danger was past.

It was all the work of a few moments, during which I was startled enough, especially when I saw the gaping jaws of the great reptile, and heard the snap it made at the oar-blade; but we were going swiftly by, and mingled with the terror there was something so comic in Pomp's actions, that in the reaction I began to laugh.

This brought Pomp's face round directly, and his reproachful black eyes seemed to ask me what I could see to laugh at.

"Come," I said, "you can't tell me I was playing tricks then.—Why, Pomp, your oar's overboard," I cried as I realised that fact.

"Yes, Mass' George. Dat great 'gator 'wallow um."

"Nonsense!" I cried, as I tried to check the progress of the boat on catching sight of the oar gliding swiftly down stream twenty yards away. "There it is. Wait till it comes close. I'll try and manage to get you near it."

"Dah it am! Whah?"

"There, just off to your left."

"So um are, Mass' George. 'Gator no like um, an' 'pit um out 'gain."

"There: mind! Now then, quick! Catch hold."

I had managed to check the boat enough to let the oar overtake us, and Pomp made a snatch at it, but drew back sharply with a low cry of horror.

"What's the matter now?" I said. "Make haste; you'll lose it."

"Great big Injum down dah," he whispered, hoarsely. "Um want to bite off poor Pomp arm."

"Nonsense! How could an Indian be there?" I said, as we floated on side by side with the oar.

"Injum? Pomp say great big 'gator. You look, Mass' George."

"You said Indian, Pomp," I continued, as I drew in my oar, picked up the boat-hook, and went cautiously to the side to look down into the transparent water, where, sure enough, one of the reptiles was swimming along; but it was quite a small one, and a sharp dig down with the boat-hook sent it undulating away, and I recovered the oar, passing it to Pomp with a gesture, as there arose once more a cry from the forest right away back, and it was answered in two places.

Pomp took the oar and began to row again steadily, staring back at the sandspit, now fast growing distant. Then all at once, as the faint cry arose from the forest—

"Dat not Injum," he cried sharply; "dat fock."

"Fox!" I said, recalling the little jackal-like creatures, of which I had seen one or two that had been shot by Morgan.

"Yes, dat fock. Um shout like dat to noder fock in um wood when um lose umself."

"Yes, but that would be at night," I said, wondering whether he was right.

"'Pose um lose umself in de day. Make um cry?"

"No," I said, thoughtfully. "It is like the cry of the fox, Pomp, but I think it's the Indians making it."

"Why Injum cry out like fock when um can cry like Injum?"

"To deceive any one who hears them."

"What deceive?" said Pomp.

"Cheat—trick."

"Oh!" he said, and we rowed on steadily hour after hour, realising how we must have increased our distance from home in the night.

Sometimes as we swept round one of the river bends we encountered a breath of fresh air, but mostly deep down in that narrow way winding through the forest the heat was intense; and there were times when, as I paused to sweep the perspiration from my face, I felt that I must give up, and lie down at the bottom of the boat.

But almost invariably at these times I heard faintly what I believed to be the Indians calling to each other as they came on through the forest; and in the hope that perhaps after all we had got the start, and would reach home in time to give the alarm, I tugged at my oar again, and so long as I rowed Pomp never for a moment flagged.

But I could not keep his tongue quiet. Now he would be making derisively defiant remarks about the 'gators; then he had something disparaging to say about the Indians; and when I spoke to him angrily he would be quiet for a time, but only to burst out with reproaches at me for calling him a "'tupid lil nigger."

Nothing ever hurt Pomp's feelings more than that term, which seemed to him the very extreme of reviling, and always went straight to his heart.

It was getting toward evening, and a rich orange glow was beginning to glorify the long reach of the river down which we were rowing— sluggishly now, for we were both tired out—when it struck me that I had not heard the cry for some time now, and I made the remark to Pomp.

"No; fock gone asleep now till de moon get up. Den fock get up too, an' holler."

"No, Pomp," I said, "it's the Indians, and they are silent because they are getting near the house now."

"So Pomp get near de house, and don't care for de Injum. He so dreffle hungry."

So was I; but my intense anxiety drove away all that, and I tried to tug harder at the oar, for I knew that we were near home now; familiar trees and corners of the stream kept coming into view, and I was just thinking that very soon I should be able to look behind me and see our landing-place, when a faintly-heard hail came along the river.

We both turned sharply, and Pomp exclaimed in words what I only too gratefully saw—

"Dah de capen an Mass' Morgan in 'noder boat. Wha my fader too?"

I stood up for a moment and waved my hand, and then sat down, and we both pulled our best, after Pomp had grumbled a little, and wanted to let the boat float down alone.

A few minutes later I was holding on to the gunwale of the strange boat in which my father was seated, almost too much exhausted to speak.

"I was getting uneasy about you, my boy," my father said, "for there have been some fresh rumours at the settlement about Indians, and Morgan went round and borrowed this boat; we were coming on to see after you. Why, George, is anything the matter?"

"Yes, father," I panted. "The Indians—they are coming on."

"No," said Pomp sharply, and he struck his hand on the side of the boat to emphasise his words. "Mass' George hear de fock—lose him lil self an holler, and he only tink it de—Ah, look! Look, Mass' George, look! Who dat?"

He pointed back up the steam, where at the edge of the bank that the river swept round previous to passing along the straight reach, there stood two tall figures, their feathers and wild dress thrown up by the bright glare of the setting sun. They were evidently reconnoitring, and though we saw them clearly for a few seconds, the next moment they seemed to have died away.

"Indians," said my father, drawing in his breath with a low hiss; "and we must not neglect this warning. Morgan, I'll get in here with the boys; you go back, make your boat fast at the landing-place, and run up to the house, and bring your wife and Hannibal down."

"But the things in the house, sir?"

"Lives are of more importance than chattels, man," said my father, in his sternest and most military way. "Tell your wife she is to stop for nothing, but to come."

"An' s'pose she won't, sir?" said Morgan sharply.

"Carry her," said my father laconically, as he stepped into our boat and pushed the other off.

"But bring nothing else, sir?" said Morgan, piteously.

"Yes; two guns, and all the ammunition you can carry; but be quick, man, we shall be waiting at the landing-place. The Indians are coming in earnest now. We shall stop till you come, and open fire if it is necessary." My father capped the gun he had brought from the boat. "Stop. Hand me your gun and pouches."

Morgan gave a stroke or two with his oar, and brought the boats alongside of each other again, then handed the gun to me.

"Now then," said my father, "off! Remember, I shall be trying to keep the Indians at bay if they show, and delay on your part may mean the loss of our lives and—your own."

Morgan gave his head a sharp nod, bent to his oars, and my father turned to me, and cried, as if he were addressing a line of men—

"Load!"



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

I believe my hands trembled, but I stood up firmly in the boat and charged the heavy piece, making the ramrod leap, as I had been told, examined the priming, and then, in obedience to my father's sign, sat down.

Pomp had taken both oars, and was dipping them gently from time to time, to keep the boat's head straight, and after a long look up the reach, my father sat down too.

"Let's see, George," he said, "we are about a mile above the landing-place, and we must give Morgan plenty of time to get there, up to the house, and back. Hold up your gun, and let the Indians see it if they are watching, and I suppose they are. These bow-and-arrow people have a very wholesome dread of powder."

"But suppose they keep creeping near us under shelter, father," I said, "and shoot?"

"They will in all probability miss; let's hope so, at all events. Come, my lad, you have a gun, and you must play soldier now. Will you lie down under shelter of the boat's side?"

"Soldiers don't lie down," I said firmly, though I wanted to do so very badly indeed.

"Oh, yes, they do sometimes. We will as soon as it is necessary; but what I want to do now, my boy, is to gain time. If we row swiftly to the landing-place, the Indians will come on rushing from tree to tree, and be upon us in a few minutes, for I presume they are in force."

I told him quickly how many we had seen.

"It is a mercy that you went and were taken, George," he said; "it has saved our lives, no doubt. But as I was saying, we want to gain time, and while we sit here slowly drifting down, with these menacing guns pointing in their direction, they will advance very slowly, and keep under cover. If it becomes necessary, I shall have the boat turned, and advance to meet them."

"And then, father?"

"They will retire for a time, not being able to understand so bold an advance, and think that an attack is about to be made upon them from the other side. We must keep them back, and it is to be done by preserving a bold front. They are cruel and treacherous, and can fight well when they think they are in strength over a weak adversary; but from what I learned of those who have had to do with them, they are as cowardly as they are cruel. Look!"

I gazed sharply up the wooded bank of the river, but I could see nothing, and said so.

"No; they were gone directly. They were two spies who had stolen closer up. It means war in earnest now, I am afraid."

He changed his position a little, and examined his gun.

"Mass' goin' shoot dat gun?" said Pomp, excitedly, after watching and listening with all his energy.

"Yes, my lad," said my father, smiling.

"Mass' won't shoot Pomp?"

"No. Attend to the oars, and keep the boat's head straight. Don't speak."

"No, massa. Oh, look, dat dah!"

Pomp's loud exclamation was due to the fact that an arrow came flying from a low clump of bushes nearly two hundred yards away, its reed shaft glistening in the ruddy light, and its wings looking as if of fire, till it dropped without a splash into the river, far away from where we sat.

"Now I should like to return their fire," said my father, "but I am very doubtful about my gun doing any harm at this distance, so we must wait. Pull a little, boy, but very gently, so that they will hardly be able to see that we are doing anything to get away."

Pomp dipped the oars, and I sat with my heart beating, waiting to see another arrow come, but for quite a minute there was no sign.

"Good practice for one beginning a frontier life, George," said my father. "Sweep the bank well, and note the smallest movement of a bough. You see there is no wind to move them now."

"I am watching, father," I said, "but I cannot see anything."

"Pomp see lil bit o' one," came from behind us.

"Where, boy?"

"Dah by dat big tree. See um arm. Going to shoot."

Almost as the words left the boy's lips, an arrow came spinning through the air, describing a good arc, and falling in a direct line with the boat, some twenty yards short.

"That's better," said my father, coolly resting his gun on the stern, and half lying down in the boat. "Hah! I could see that."

I had also seen what appeared to be a quick movement of the bushes a short distance from the edge of the bank, a movement which seemed such as would have been made by an animal dashing through.

The waving of the foliage stopped just by a great swamp oak, and upon this tree I fancied that my father fixed his eye.

"Dah again," said Pomp, excitedly. "Going shoot um bow an' arrow."

Bang!

The boat rocked a little with the concussion, and as the smoke lifted, I saw an arrow drop into the river a long way to our left.

"I don't think I hit him," said my father; "but I disarranged his aim, and it will check him for a bit."

His words proved correct, for though he stood up in the boat to re-charge his piece, and offered a striking object for the Indian's arrows, none came; and as we floated on and on, it began to seem as if the one shot had been enough to scare the enemy. I said so, but my father shook his head.

"No such good fortune, my boy."

"What are you going to do, father?" I said, after some minutes' watching, and thinking how strange it was that my calm, quiet father, who was so fond of his studies and his garden, should in a time of emergency like this prove himself to be a firm soldier, ready to fight or scheme against our dangerous foes.

"Escape to the settlement if we can get safely away."

"But—"

I stopped short.

"Well?" he said.

"I was thinking about the house and garden, the furniture and books, and all our treasures."

"Doomed, I'm afraid, George," he said with a sigh. "We must think about saving our lives. We can build up the house again."

"Build it up again, father?"

"Yes, if it is burnt, and replace our books; but we cannot restore life, my boy. Besides, all these things that we shall lose are not worth grieving over. There, I think we have waited long enough now to give them time, and we are near the landing-place. Pull steadily now, boy, right for the posts."

Pomp obeyed, and the boat glided on, swept round a wooded point, and the landing-place with its overhanging trees was in sight.

"Are they there?" said my father, sharply.

"I can't see them, father."

A sharp stamp with his foot on the thwart of the boat told of the excitement he felt, and made me realise more than ever the peril we were in.

"Pull, boy—pull!" he said.

I sat down in front of Pomp, laid my gun across the thwarts, and placing my hands on the oars, helped with a good thrust at every tug, sending the boat well along, so that in a couple of minutes more we were at the landing-place, where I leaped out, and secured the boat by passing the rope through a ring-bolt.

"Don't fasten it tightly," said my father; "leave it so that you can slip it at a moment's notice. No, no, boy, sit still ready to row."

Pomp, who was about to spring out, plumped down again, his brow wrinkled up, and his twinkling dark eyes watching my father, of whom he stood in terrible awe.

"They ought to have been here; they ought to have been here," said my father, unfastening the other boat, and making a loop of the rope that could be just hung over one of the posts, besides bringing the boat close in.

"I cannot go, George," he said sharply. "This is our only means of escape, and it would be like throwing it away: they ought to have been here."

"Pomp hear um come," cried the boy eagerly; and we both listened, but for a few moments I could make out nothing.

Then as my father was eagerly scanning the edge of the river, gun in hand, on the look-out for the first approach of the Indians, I heard plod—plod—plod—plod, and directly after Morgan came into sight laden with the guns and ammunition, followed by Hannibal with a box on his shoulder; and lastly there was Sarah, red-faced and panting, as she bore a large white bundle that looked like a feather-bed tied up in a sheet.

"What madness!" cried my father, angrily stamping his foot. "Quick, Morgan! Quick!"

Morgan broke into a trot, and soon reached us, rapidly placed his load in the boat, and took up one of the pieces.

"How could you waste time by letting that woman come loaded in this ridiculous way?"

"She would bring them, sir; she wouldn't come without."

"No," said Sarah, who came up completely breathless, "I wasn't going to."

"Into the boat," cried my father, "if you value your life!"

Hannibal was already in with his box, and my father tried to drag the bundle from Sarah, but she held on with such tenacity that she was forced in bundle and all.

Hannibal placed the huge white sphere in the stern, where it rose up high and projected far over the sides. Then, in obedience to my father's orders, he seized the oars and sat down.

"Quick, Morgan!" said my father; "be ready to fire steadily as you can if I give the order. Stop!" he cried quickly, as a sudden thought struck him; "pass that box into this boat. There, across the stern, as you have placed that bundle."

The boats were drawn together, and the transfer was made, while my hands grew wet with perspiration as I scanned the edge of the forest, fancying I could hear the breaking and rustling of twigs and leaves.

"Here dey come," said Pomp, huskily, just as my father exclaimed, "Cast off!" and the boats were thrust out into the stream.

It was only just in time, for as our boat was being thrust away with the oar there was a fierce yell, and a score of savages rushed out of the edge of the forest, ran rapidly over the bushy ground between, and the two first sprang into the shallow water, one of them seizing an oar, the other coming further out, and catching at the boat's side with one hand, striking at my father with an axe at the same time.

I felt as if the blow had struck me, so keen was the agony I endured; but relief came on the instant, for the axe edge was warded off by the barrel of the piece my father held, and before the savage could strike again he received the butt of the piece full in his forehead, and dropped back into the water.

Meanwhile the other savage was trying to tear the oar from Pomp's grasp, and he would have succeeded had not the boy drawn the knife he had stuck in his waist, and given the Indian quickly a sharp cut across the hands, making him yell and loosen his hold.

The others were so near that we must have been captured had it not been for the sharp stream which had caught the boat, and was bearing us away.

In the second boat another struggle had taken place, three of the Indians, as I saw at my second glance, making for it; but they fared no better than their companions. Hannibal had already pushed off, and was standing up with one oar in his hand. This he swept round as if it were a huge two-handed sword, and one Indian went down at once; the second caught and clung to the oar, and he too struck at Hannibal with his axe; but the great black caught the handle, gave it a wrench round, tore it from the man's grasp, and I closed my eyes for a moment as I saw what was about to follow. When I opened them again the Indian was floating in the river, and a companion was drawing him to land, while another was helping the Indian who had attacked Morgan, and was struck down by a blow with the gun-barrel.

The boats were now moving fast, and as I saw the Indians all there bending their bows, my father shouted "Fire!" Our three pieces went off nearly simultaneously with a tremendous roar, and when the smoke rose I saw three men on the ground by our landing-place, and the others in full flight for the forest. I stared at these three in horror, when, to my surprise, they leaped up and ran after their companions. But three others lay where their comrades had dragged them half drowned, and stunned by the blows they had received. Those who got up and ran were no doubt knocked down by their companions in their flight and dismay, for I do not think our fire did them any harm. But I was brought to myself by a sharp command to reload.

"Quick! Crouch down!" said my father; and as he spoke a shower of arrows whistled by, fortunately without doing hurt. "Morgan," continued my father, "make a breastwork of that bundle; it will protect you. Hannibal, row straight out, so as to get that bundle between you and the enemy."

The great black's response was a pull or two with one oar, while, in obedience to my father's instructions, Pomp did the same; and I now saw the good of the box placed across the stern, behind which we two sheltered, and kept up as rapid a fire as we could, doing but little harm, for the Indians were well sheltered among the trees, and rarely showed more than a hand and arm with one side of the face, the rest of the body being always hidden behind the trunk of some great tree. But our shots did good to this extent, for whenever the enemy made a determined rush, as if to reach a spot opposite to where the boats glided down stream, a little volley invariably sent them back to cover.

Still by darting from tree to tree, or crawling under the thick bushes, they kept close in our wake, and poor Sarah's encumbrances proved invaluable, the box and huge bundle forming excellent shelter, from behind which we could fire, saving the woman too as she lay right in the bottom of the boat; for the arrows came fast—whizz, whizz, whizz, now sticking in the box with a hollow sounding rap, or into the big bundle in the other boat with a dull, thudding sound, till both box and bundle actually bristled with the missiles.

"Keep your head down, my boy," my father kept saying to me. "Only look up when you are going to fire."

This was good advice, but I did not see that he took it to himself, and I kept feeling a curious shrinking sensation as some better-aimed arrow than usual struck the box close to his head.

And so we went slowly on, my father dividing his time between loading, firing, and directing Pomp and Hannibal how to row, so as to keep the boats one behind the other, and diagonally across the stream, so that our sheltering defences might be presented square to the enemy, who followed us along the bank.

I'm afraid—and yet I do not know that I ought to speak like that of a set of savages who were thirsting for our blood—several of the Indians went down severely wounded, not from my firing, but from that of Morgan, for I saw them stagger and fall three times over after his shots. What happened after my father's I could not see, for we were close together, and the smoke obscured everything.

For fully ten minutes this duel between lead and arrow went on, but no one on our side was hurt, though we had some very narrow escapes. I felt one arrow give quite a twitch at my hair as it passed close to my temple, and another went through my father's hat. In the other boat too Morgan kept answering to our inquiries, and telling us that all was right, only that some of the arrows had come, as he termed it, "precious nigh, look you."

"We shall not shake them off," said my father, "till we reach the mouth and get into the big river, when I hope our firing will be heard and put them on their guard at the settlement. So don't spare your shots when we get well out. They will be doing double duty—scaring the enemy and warning our friends. That's right, Pompey, my lad, pull steadily."

"Iss, massa, pull berry 'tead'ly," said the boy, grinning.

"As soon as we get a little farther we will relieve you, my lad; and then, George," he said, turning to me, "we must row hard for the settlement, unless," he added, sadly, "the enemy are before us, and then—Hah!"

I started at the moment when my father uttered that ejaculation, for an arrow dropped between us, and stuck quivering in the thwart, standing nearly upright, as if it had fallen from the clouds.

"They have altered their tactics," said my father. "Look there."

Another arrow fell with a faint plop into the river close to the edge of the boat. "They find our breastwork too much for them," said my father; "and they are shooting up right over us, so as to try and hit us that way."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" came in wild yells of pain from Pomp, as I heard a dull thud just behind me; and turning sharply, there was the boy dancing about in his agony, and tugging to free his hand from an arrow which had fallen and gone right through, pinning it to one of the oars.

"Stop! Don't struggle, boy," cried my father, laying his gun across the box.

"But um hurt dreffle, massa. Oh, Mass' George, lookye here—lookye dah."

The boat was drifting now, and turning slowly side on to the shore, when my father made a sign, and I left my gun lying across the box and crept into Pomp's place, while my father seized the boy's hand, held it tightly, detached the arrow with a tug from where it stuck in the oar, and then as I began to row he pulled Pomp down into the bottom of the boat, the boy sobbing with the pain.

Whizz! An arrow made me duck my head, and I don't know how I looked, but I felt as if I must have turned pale.

"Pull your right, George; pull your right," said my father, coolly. "Now, Pomp, my boy, let me look. Come, be a man."

My father took his hand, and the boy jumped and uttered a cry of pain, but he evidently mastered himself, and rising to his knees, he resigned himself to my father, but doubled his other fist and shook it in the direction of the shore as he shouted fiercely—

"Ah, you wait bit, great big coward—great big ugly Injum tief. You wait bit—Pomp and um fader get hold you, gib you de 'tick. Hab you flog—hab you—Oh! Oh, Mass' Capen, done, done," he cried piteously, changing his tone and appealing to my father, as he saw him take out and open his great gardening knife, which was as sharp as a razor.

"Be quiet," said my father; "I will not hurt you much."

"No, no," whimpered Pomp. "Mass' George, ask massa not cut arm off. Cut off lil toe, Massa Capen; cut off um foot. What poor lil nigger do wif ony one arm?"

"Be quiet, you cowardly little rascal," said my father, smiling, as with one sharp cut he took off the head of the arrow, and then easily drew the shaft back from where it had passed right through Pomp's black hand.

As soon as he saw the arrow-head cut off, and understood what my father meant, Pomp knelt there as coolly as could be.

"Hurt much?" said my father, pressing his finger and thumb on the wound at the back and palm of the boy's hand.

"Um tickle, sah: dat all. Pomp tought you cut um arm off. Hi! You dah," he shouted excitedly; "you wait till Pomp get lil bit of rag round um hand, you see how I serb you. Yah! You big coward Injum tief."

My father rapidly drew his handkerchief from his pocket, tore a piece off, divided it in two, and making the two pieces into little pads, applied one each to the back and front of the boy's hand before binding them securely there.

As soon as this was done, Pomp looked up at him with his eyes sparkling and showing his teeth.

"Pomp not mind a bit," he said. "Here, Mass' George, come here an' shoot um. Let Pomp hab de oars."

"No," said my father. "Sit down there in the bottom of the boat. Hah!"

He seized his gun and fired; then caught up mine, waited till the smoke had risen a little, and fired again, a shot coming almost at the same moment from the other boat.

It was quite time, for the Indians, encouraged by the cessation of the firing, and seeing that some one was wounded, were coming on well abreast of us. But the first shot warned them, and the two which followed sent them once more back under cover, leaving one of their number, to Pomp's great delight, motionless among the canes.

"Ha, ha!" he laughed; "you cotch it dis time, sah. How you like feel de shot, eh? You no 'tick arrow froo poor lil nigger hand again, you no— Oh, Mass' George, look dah!"

For the prostrate man suddenly rolled over, half rose, darted amongst the canes, and we could see by his movements that he was rapidly getting ahead. Then another and another darted to him, and to our misery we saw that they were making for a wooded point a couple of hundred yards ahead.

"Mean to take us between two fires," said my father, who was coolly reloading, in spite of the arrows which kept on dropping down in and about the boat as the Indians sent them right up in the air.

"Morgan!" shouted my father.

"Yes, sir."

"Turn your fire in the other direction, and drive those fellows out of that clump of trees on the point."

"Yes, sir."

The next minute there was a sharp report, and then another.

"That's right, boy," said my father to Pomp, who was eagerly watching him reloading, and handing the ammunition. "Why, George—Ah, that arrow was near; did it hurt you?"

"Only scratched me, father," I said, as I winced a little, for one of the Indians' missiles had fallen, ploughed my leg a little, and pinned the fold of my breeches to the thwart on which I sat.

Pomp crept to my side and pulled out the arrow, examining the hole in the thwart, and saying merrily—

"I no 'tink you want lil bit rag round you, sah."

"No, Pomp; go back and help to load."

Bang—bang! Was heard again from the foremost boat; but arrows came now fast from the wooded point we were approaching.

"How does Morgan manage to load so quickly?" said my father, who kept on talking calmly, as I believe now to encourage us.

"I think Morgan is—I mean I think Sarah is loading for him," I replied, rather confusedly, as the trees and the wooded bank began to grow misty and dim.

"Ah, very likely. Great—"

The one word came in a very different tone of voice, as a wild shriek rang out from the foremost boat, followed by a momentary silence.

"What is it?" said my father, sternly.

His demand was almost accompanied by a couple more shots in close succession.

"One down, sir," said Morgan, coolly; but his voice sounded to me distant and strange.

"Pull hard, George, my lad—your right. We must give that point as wide a berth as we can."

I obeyed as well as I could, and half wondered at the singing noise in my ears.

Bang! Came from the foremost boat, and I seemed to know that Morgan had no one to load for him now, and that poor Sarah had uttered that shriek we had heard. Then I saw that my father was resting his gun on the foremost part of the boat, and he too fired at the woody point, from which arrow after arrow came in quick succession.

And still I rowed hard, with the perspiration streaming down to soak me.

Whizz—thud—whizz—whizz, and an angry ejaculation from my father; I did not know why, nor yet why Pomp uttered a shrill ejaculation, for I was pulling with all my might like one in a dream. I felt once as if I should like to look back and see how near we were to the point that I knew must be close at hand; but everything was getting dark, and a horrible sensation of sickness was coming on. Then the sharp report of my father's piece made me start and pull harder, as I thought, and I tried to look toward the shore, where a wild yelling had arisen; but Pomp's words uttered close to me took my attention, and in a dreamy way I supposed that another Indian had been killed.

Then the boy spoke again in a low whimpering way—

"Massa—massa—look at de blood. Oh, Mass' George! Mass' George!"



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

"Better, my lad?"

I did not answer, but looked in my father's face, wondering what was the matter—why I felt so deathly sick, as I lay back feeling water splashed in my face, and seeing a black hand going and coming from somewhere at my side.

"Come: try and hold up," said my father.

"Yes," I said. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing very serious for you, my lad. We have been playing at soldiers in earnest, that's all, and you have been wounded."

"I, father—I? Ah yes, I remember," I said, essaying to sit up. "But I did try hard to bear it."

"I know—I know, my lad. I didn't know you were hurt like that."

"But—but the Indians?" I said, struggling up, and then catching at my father's hand, for I felt a burning pain run through my leg, and the sick sensation returned.

"We have left them behind," he said, "and are out of their reach for the present. Now sit still, and the faintness will go off. I must go to the other boat."

I looked sharply round, and found that the wooded point was far behind, and also that we were well out of our stream, and floating steadily down the big river toward the settlement, whose flagstaff and houses stood out in the sunshine on our left about a mile away. I saw too that a rope had been made fast to the end of the other boat, and that we were being towed, but by whom, or what was going on there, I could not see for the great bundle in the white sheet which filled up the stern, and was still bristling with arrows.

"Hold hard!" shouted my father, and our boat began to glide alongside of the other. "Can you sit up, my lad?"

"Yes, father," I said.

"Pomp take car' of him, massa."

"Yes, but you are wounded too," said my father.

"Oh, dat nuffum," said the boy contemptuously.

My attention was riveted now on Sarah, whom I could see as the boats were alongside lying crouched back in the bottom, looking deathly white as Morgan knelt by her, holding a handkerchief pressed to her shoulder.

"Now let me come," said my father. "Are both your pieces loaded?"

"I have that charged, sir," he said aloud. Then I heard him whisper, "You don't think she's very bad, do you, sir?"

My father made no reply, but took Morgan's place.

"Go and take an oar," he said then. "Help Hannibal; and try and get us to the fort if you can. Yes," he continued, after shading his eyes with his hand, "the flag is still flying; the Indians cannot be there yet."

"Boat coming," cried Pomp; and to our great delight, we saw a well-manned boat shoot out from the shore, and begin to head in our direction.

My father uttered a sigh of relief, and I heard him mutter "Thank God!" as he proceeded to bandage the poor woman's shoulder as well as he could; and in a momentary glance I saw that an arrow, with the shaft sticking out, broken short off, was still in the wound.

I wondered why my father did not draw it out, but of course said nothing, only sat gazing from the coming boat to the shore, which all seemed peaceful and calm now, there being no sign of Indians or trace of the trouble, save on board our boats.

Just then, as I was reviving more and more, and fully learning the fact that I had received what might have proved a dangerous wound had not the bleeding been stopped, a hail came from the approaching boat, which proved to be Colonel Preston's.

"Anything the matter? What's all that firing about?" cried the colonel, as his boat's way was checked.

"Indians!—attacked!" said my father, speaking excitedly as he waved his hand toward his wounded; and then, "Don't lose a moment. Help us ashore, and there must not be a soul out of the fort in half an hour's time."

There was a disposition in Colonel Preston's manner to make light of the matter, but the sight of the arrows bristling about the defences checked him; and ordering a couple of men out of his own boat to help row ours, he stayed with us to hear the narrative of our fight.