One of the savages had gained the deck forward. Glennie had caught his spear, and the two were struggling for possession of the weapon. A second native was climbing up the rounded deck with the apparent intention of attacking Glennie in the rear. The third of the trio kept to the canoe, paddling, and keeping it alongside.
So intent were all three of the Indians on the struggle which Glennie was carrying on that they did not notice Bob. Swiftly the young motorist got out of the conning tower.
“Look out behind you, Glennie!” shouted Bob Steele as he hurried forward.
CHAPTER XLV.
A PRISONER—AND A SURPRISE.
Bob’s shout acquainted the savages with the fact that there were two whites to be dealt with instead of one. The scoundrel in the canoe dropped his paddle and picked up a spear. The dugout dropped a little behind, but the savage brought the ungainly craft nearly to the conning tower with two sweeps of the paddle. The next moment he let his spear fly, and there came a bloodcurdling whoop from the tower hatch.
Carl, as usual, happened to be in the way of trouble. He had flung through the periscope room and chased after Bob up the ladder. Bob avoided the spear by dropping to his knees. It passed over his head, snapped Carl’s cap off his shock of tow-colored hair, and carried it on for a dozen feet, dropping out of sight with it beneath the water.
“Vat a vay iss dot!” bellowed Carl. “Tick, handt me oop a gun, or a gannon, or somet’ing. Bob, look oudt a leedle!”
Carl forgot the loss of his cap, forgot even that he had asked Dick for a weapon, and scrambled to get out of the tower and go to his chum’s aid.
The savage who had been climbing up the rounded deck had made a spring for Glennie’s back. Bob Steele leaped about the same time, grabbing the native before he could do the ensign any harm.