“Canoe here!” he whispered. “Four warriors in it yit. Their eyes and ears are wide open. Only one way to do. Must do quick, for—hark! They’re goin’ more down banks.”
“Let’s make the rush then,” said Brom, hoarsely. “’Tain’t likely we shall succeed, but it’s our last chance. Is t’other canoes near?”
“Not very. Above. Only see ’em when light comes. There ’tis now.”
Again they crouched down. The light would otherwise have revealed them in spite of the bushes separating them from the edge of the river. In a moment it was concealed again.
“Now our time!” whispered Goodbrand, rising.
“Hold!” whispered Brom.
A sudden, peculiar expedient had suggested itself.
“What for?”
The young ranger did not answer at once. It was evident the canoe was slowly moving down the bank. While they listened it drew up a few yards below them.
“Goodbrand, now use your best wits. You know thar lingo. Take Moorooine, and steal forward till you are quite near them, then take her in your arms, an’ do you, dear girl, be unconscious. Make ’em b’l’eve you’ve been took prisoner. Goodbrand shall play your captor. He shall tell ’em ’e took ye, and ask ’em out to make room for you. The rest of us ’ll be on hand, if they take the bait, ur don’t take it!”