"If he would only turn up stream, they would see nothing of him."
"Can't I warn him?"
"No, Elwood, it will make matters worse. Their eyes are fixed upon us."
Grasping the long oar Tim headed his boat somewhat up stream, so as not to let it drift by the island, and commenced paddling across. He had gone twenty rods or thereabouts when he was discovered by the Indians, and one of them raised his rifle and took aim at him.
"Quick, Tim, drop down, or you'll be shot!" called out Howard, forgetful of his own danger in the single hope of saving his friend from a violent death.
At the same instant that this cry was uttered the terrified boy saw a puff of smoke issue from the Indian rifle, and simultaneous with the sharp crack Tim O'Rooney was seen to fall flat in the canoe.
"He is shot!" called out Elwood.
"It is time then for us to do some of the same kind of business," replied Howard, sighting his own gun at the savage upon the shore. The distance was too great and his skill too slight to guide the ball with anything like certainty, but it skipped over the water at their very feet, and so alarmed them that they immediately dodged back under the shelter of the rocks and trees.
"What is the use?" asked Elwood gloomily. "Poor Tim is killed and there is no chance for us."
"Look! he is not dead!" whispered Howard.