“Hit him first crack out of the box,” said the Texan.
“They’ll deny they fired at all.”
“That’s what they will. It’s up to us to run them down and take a look into their canoe. If they have a gun with them, then they can do some explaining. Bend to it, partner. We’re gaining.”
Both canoes were merrily flying now. Cole and his companion were doing their best, but Fernald’s skill with the paddle was not equal to that of the boy. Sometimes he missed a stroke and Cole was heard speaking sharply to him.
The excitement of the race took hold of Brad and Dick. With the steadiness of clockwork they swung their paddles and bent to the task.
Dip and lift! Dip and lift!
On either side the smooth water seemed flying backward, while the canoe raised a slight ripple and left a broadening wake behind it.
Cole and Fernald headed down the western shore of the lake, apparently looking for a good chance to run in and leave the canoe before their pursuers could come up. All along there the shore was rocky, and no favorable landing spot presented itself.
“We’ve got them, Brad!” laughed Dick exultantly.
The faces of the boys were flushed and their eyes gleaming. They felt the breeze rush past their ears.