"A merry evening to you," I called gently.
A grunt was my answer.
"We must hurry, brother," admonished Ta-wan-ne-ars.
He started off at right angles with the path we had been following, and we fetched a circle around the group of fires, coming ultimately to a high point above the shore half a mile beyond them. Here we rested, both because our weariness was very great and because we desired to witness Peter's exploit, and, if need be, be prepared to aid him.
It was past midnight, and the fires had burned low and the brandy-drinkers soaked themselves stupid. Not a sound came to us, except for the calling of a wolf from the heavy timber inshore and the croaking of water-birds.
'Twas Ta-wan-ne-ars' eagle vision which saw the danger-signal. He gripped my arm.
"Look, brother," he hissed.
I looked, and a flame spurted upward between the fires and the water. There was a sharp explosion. A long minute elapsed, and then a chorus of excited yells rose, dropped and was sustained.
The flame mounted higher, and we could see figures running this way and that in confusion. A musket barked. Others echoed it.
"They saw him in the water," remarked Ta-wan-ne-ars.