The Shawanoe suddenly dropped back, having received a stunning blow upon the head from the heaviest end of the oar. So violent was it, that, striking the edge of the canoe, he rolled over as helplessly as a log.
"Begorrah, but I axes yer pardon!" exclaimed Pat, to the struggling savage. "But I handles the paddle so awkwardly, that—holy virgin! if I haven't hit the other haythen a crack, too, and he's gone overboard! What's got into me paws?"
The second savage had sprang up, as his companion went into the water, but, as quick as lightning, he dropped back in his seat, catching the sides of the canoe so firmly, that he did not go out of it. The Irishman's blows being "sidewinders,"—that is, on the side of the head, their natural result was to send the recipients overboard, and the Shawanoe in question saved himself so narrowly, that Pat was mistaken in supposing that he was following his comrade.
"That was another awkward piece of business. Let me tip ye another iligant whack with me shillaleh, in the true style of Pat Mulroony, from Tipperary."
Ere the second blow caught the savage, he gave vent to a screeching yell, loud enough to wake the dead. But it did not save him from whisking over the canoe like a frog, and going down out of sight.
The first Indian had by this time arisen, and was endeavoring to climb into the canoe. His hideous face, painted and agleam with the most deadly ferocity, had appeared over the gunwale, and the frail vessel was in momentary danger of coming apart or sinking.
"Go round to the starn, if ye wants to come in!" exclaimed Pat, striking him a tremendous blow in the face with his fist, that quickly loosened his hold. Dipping the paddle into the water, the Irishman now plied it with a skill fully equal to that of the Shawanoes themselves, sending it with a wonderful velocity directly up the creek.
But the second canoe had seen that something was wrong before the yell of their unfortunate comrade had reached their ears, and they were now fairly flying over the water, toward the captives. The Irishman, with a coolness, and presence of mind that was remarkable under the circumstances, seated himself in the stern, and keeping a sharp eye upon either bank, sent his canoe swiftly up the creek, approaching closely to neither shore.
He had calculated to a second almost, the instant when the pursuing Indians would arrive at the mouth of the creek, and consequently, how long he might ascend it without danger of discovery. Virginia, who kept her gaze fixed toward the river, announced that the two Indians had swam to the mainland, and were evidently awaiting the approach of their companions.