The miscreant was actually cutting the raft apart. When Tom realized it, he charged forward with a shout. Apparently the man had been quite unaware that the boys had come aboard. He glanced about quickly. The ax blow never fell. He waited till Tom was within ten feet, charging with the steel-shod pole, and then he swung the ax round his head and flung it with all his force.
Tom ducked just in time to dodge the whirling missile as it went over his head with a “whish.” It came so close that the boy lost his balance and stumbled down on one knee, and before he could recover himself the man had pounced on him, forcing him down.
Tom was able to let out a single yell. He recognized Harrison; he had felt that grip before. Again Harrison tried to seize him by the throat, but this time Tom was less off guard. He was lighter than his enemy, but more active. He was a good wrestler, his muscles were hardened now with labor, and he fought like a wildcat.
He squirmed free from the fierce grip and got to his feet. Loosing his arm an instant, he drove a heavy blow into Harrison’s face and heard him grunt. But the next moment Harrison surged upon him with all his weight, and Tom despite his utmost effort, was gripped almost helplessly. He put forth every ounce of strength he had. Defeat meant the loss of the raft. But he could not hold Harrison. He was forced down; he went heavily against the slippery logs, and the next instant he felt Harrison’s knee on his chest.
He caught a glimpse of Charlie’s form flitting distractedly around them with gun half raised, and he was afraid of getting an accidental charge of shot himself. Then Charlie seemed to swing the butt. Tom scarcely heard the thud of the blow, for at that instant the logs seemed to give way under him. A great rift opened, and he went down into the black water, with Harrison still clutching him.
For a second he was dazed and went deep down. His enemy’s grip relaxed and fell away. Then, with a half-involuntary stroke, he came toward the surface. His head knocked against something hard. He was under the raft itself.
In terror he struck out blindly. He knew no directions. He might be swimming toward the center of the raft, where he would surely drown. His breath grew short; then, all at once, his head came out into the fresh air, and he filled his lungs with a great gasp. The raft plunged almost over his shoulders. Tom dodged and ducked to escape having his skull crushed, and caught sight of the Indian peering wildly out into the darkness. He shouted hoarsely, and Charlie helped him aboard with an extended pike-pole.
There was no sign of Harrison, neither swimming on the water nor aboard the raft. He might also have gone under the logs, and be drowning there.
“See anything of him—that other man?” Tom gasped; but Charlie shook his head.
“Think him drown, mebbe. Good job, too!”