“That’s McGowan! I knowed he couldn’t be far out of the way. I don’t see any of ’em on the look out, which, howsomever, is a good sign, as it’s one that ought to do the looking out,—that is such looking out as makes me show myself.”
Joe kept his seat for a few minutes longer, and then withdrawing into the wood so as to conceal himself, he deliberately raised his gun and discharged it in the direction of the flat-boat and then, dropping his piece, looked to see the result.
He caught a glimpse of two or three hats moving around near the stern of the boat. Enough to satisfy him, that his friends were not asleep, nor so reckless as to expose themselves, when no possible good could result from it. The hunter now stepped forward, and called out,
“Helloa there, you, can’t you take a poor fellow on board?”
All this time, he was careful to keep his body concealed; and, observing, that his call attracted no notice, he speedily repeated it, still hiding his body, and disguising his voice as much as possible.
“I say you, won’t you take a poor fellow on board, that’s been badly cut up by the Injins, and can’t get off.”
Still there was not the least sign that his words were heard, which perhaps rather curiously did not seem to displease the hunter. By this time, the flat-boat had approached a point directly opposite, so that he was compelled to begin walking to keep pace with it. This he managed to do, without exposing himself to the inquiring eyes, that he knew was piercing out upon him.
“I say, be you so cruel as to leave a poor wounded man of your own race and blood to perish among these outrageous Injins?”
Still no response, and the hunter tried it once more.
“Can’t you let me know that your hear me?”