Chapter Thirty One.
I believe my hands trembled, but I stood up firmly in the boat and charged the heavy piece, making the ramrod leap, as I had been told, examined the priming, and then, in obedience to my father’s sign, sat down.
Pomp had taken both oars, and was dipping them gently from time to time, to keep the boat’s head straight, and after a long look up the reach, my father sat down too.
“Let’s see, George,” he said, “we are about a mile above the landing-place, and we must give Morgan plenty of time to get there, up to the house, and back. Hold up your gun, and let the Indians see it if they are watching, and I suppose they are. These bow-and-arrow people have a very wholesome dread of powder.”
“But suppose they keep creeping near us under shelter, father,” I said, “and shoot?”
“They will in all probability miss; let’s hope so, at all events. Come, my lad, you have a gun, and you must play soldier now. Will you lie down under shelter of the boat’s side?”
“Soldiers don’t lie down,” I said firmly, though I wanted to do so very badly indeed.
“Oh, yes, they do sometimes. We will as soon as it is necessary; but what I want to do now, my boy, is to gain time. If we row swiftly to the landing-place, the Indians will come on rushing from tree to tree, and be upon us in a few minutes, for I presume they are in force.”
I told him quickly how many we had seen.