The wound was not a mortal one, but it was enough to take all the fight out of the Indian. With a groan of pain he fell in the bow of the canoe. Then, fearing another shot, or perhaps a blow from a hunting knife, he slipped overboard, staggered ashore, and disappeared in the total darkness of the forest.
“Oh, Joe!” These were the only words that Harmony could utter, but as the two canoes glided together, she arose and threw her arms around her brother’s neck.
Just then the brother uttered no reply to this warm greeting. He had seen Long Knife disappear into the forest, and he did not know but that the Indian might return to the attack almost immediately.
Two steps took him to the bow of the other canoe, and with a handful of water he dashed out the light of the torch. Then he seized the paddle and began to work the craft out into midstream, shoving the other canoe along at the same time.
But Long Knife was in no condition to attack anybody, and soon the dim outline of the shore faded from view. Then Joe tied the smaller craft fast to the larger, and transferred his bow and arrows and club to the latter. He bent over his sister, and in the midst of the wind and the rain he kissed her.
“It was a close shave, Harmony,” he said. His heart was too full to say more.
“Oh, Joe!” She clung to him tightly. “Was it not terrible? Supposing he had carried me off, miles and miles away?”
“Don’t make too much noise, Harmony—there may be redskins all along this river bank.”
“Do you know anything of father and mother?”
“I was with father when I discovered you in the canoe with Long Knife. He and Pep Brown and Harry Parsons were all with me, and we were getting ready to do what we could to rescue you and Mrs. Parsons. I don’t know anything about mother.”