"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--"