“That means holding the gun straight, sir, and pulling the trigger. Oh yes, sir; I can do that.”
“That isn’t shooting: you have to hit.”
“So I suppose, sir; but some of the governor’s friends, who come down in September and October, go shooting in his preserves and over the farms, but they don’t always hit anything.”
“But you will try if we want you, eh?”
“Yes, sir, if the governor orders me. And what about a cutlass? Can you handle that, do you think?”
“Don’t see why not, sir. I’m pretty handy with a carving-knife, both with meat and on the knifeboard.”
“Well,” said the doctor gravely, “I hope we shall not have to come to anything of that kind, for all our sakes.”
“How long will it take us to get back?” said Jack, after a silence, during which the thoughts of the danger seemed to be chased away by the beauty of the shore along which they glided.
“Hours yet,” said the doctor. “This wind will not last. If it would, we might be there before the canoes.”
Very few greetings passed between the two boats, for every one engaged in the race seemed in deadly earnest. There was the possibility of the people proving to be friendly, but as in all probability these great sea-going canoes belonged to a fighting fleet upon some raiding expedition, the hope in the direction of peace was not great.