Tom nodded emphatically, while Jim scratched amongst the osiers with the soft toe of his moccasin.
"That air so," he drawled. "Then what's the ticket?"
"We must move. I thought that with these canoes to help us we might manage to get away. Now, Jim, don't open your mouth as if you would like to swallow me. Do you think these reeds would keep out a bullet if piled fairly close together?"
For a second the trapper looked closely at the osiers, feeling them with his hand. He tore one out by the roots, and then gripped it between his teeth.
"They're soft and pulpy inside," he said, a light gathering on his face. "Reckon, as they stand, a bullet would rip through 'em as if they was only cotton. See that! Ain't I right?"
Another series of reports had suddenly rung out from the far side, and again the leaden messengers tore through the osiers.
"Jest as ef they was cotton," he repeated. "But ef yer was to pile 'em close together, then I reckon a bullet would find it hard to get through. Steve, you ain't such a duffer as I thought, not by a long way. What're yer after?"
"Just this," laughed Steve, for his nimble brain had hit upon a plan which might help the whole party. "We have five canoes here. We can break up two of them, and by jamming the sides into two of the others can raise the gunwales from the water. Then we can pack them with reeds. They'll take a lot without sinking, for these stalks are very light and buoyant. Once we're ready we can float them out between us and the redskins, and then they can fire till they're tired."
Jim threw his cap in the air, and, unmindful of the fact that the action immediately brought a shower of bullets, danced and capered in the reeds. He was a queer and light-hearted trapper. For all his sagacity and cunning, he was but a boy, and behaved like one when anything out of the way happened.
"Cap'n," he cried, gripping Steve by the hand. "I ain't fit to lead this party no longer. Reckon you've won the place. Boys, we air goin' ter do as Steve says, and get the laugh on them critters."