The rest of the journey toward the water was not quite so easy, but we tugged and lifted, and by degrees got it on the few yards farther, and at last had the satisfaction of sending it crashing down into a bed of reedy growth, and springing in to push it onward into the stream, where, once clear of the dense water grasses, it began to glide down easily and well.
Now that the excitement of the discovery and launching of the boat was over, it all seemed to have been a kind of day-dream; and though I took my seat on a thwart, and got an oar over the side, I could hardly believe it real till I recalled that it was possible that our actions had all been watched, and that amongst the trees and bushes of the other side dozens of keen eyes might be aiming arrows at us, and the oar almost dropped from my hand.
Pomp was thinking of our enemies too, for, as he got his oar over the side, and was looking down stream, he exclaimed suddenly—
“Yah! Who ’fraid now? Look, Mass’ George, dat big ugly ole ’gator, dah.”
“Pomp!” I cried, in an excited whisper; and I half rose to fling myself down, to lie in shelter of the boat’s side.
For at that moment, from some distance off, came a cry that I recognised as an Indian yell.
Chapter Thirty.
I do not suppose that many who read this have ever heard a Red Indian’s cry, and I hope those who have not never will. It was no doubt invented on purpose to scare an enemy, and it answers its purpose thoroughly.