“Bravo! Well done!” cried Briscoe.
“What is it?” said Brace eagerly. “I couldn’t see for the smoke.”
“I could,” said the mate. “There was somebody there, and, hit or no, your shot startled him, for I saw something go crashing down through the boughs. I believe you’ve finished him, and we shall have no more arrows from there.”
“Think there was only one of them then?” said Lynton.
“Oh, no, my lad; there’s no knowing how many there are of the beauties, but I fancy there’s one the less.”
The mate had hardly spoken before another arrow stuck in the deck, its inclination showing that it had come from an entirely fresh direction. But it had hardly touched the deck with a dull rap before the American’s rifle uttered its sharp crack, and the bullet sent the leaves of a tree some distance farther to the left pattering down.
“That looks as though there were some more of them about,” said the mate gruffly, and he knelt in shelter, keenly watching for his opportunity of delivering a shot.
Just then the captain came on deck, and Brace hurried to meet him. He did not speak, but looked at the captain with questioning eyes.
“Sound asleep, squire,” said Captain Banes, in answer to Brace’s mute enquiry. “Well, how many have you brought down?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued: “I don’t suppose there are above half a dozen of them. Just a hunting party in a canoe. Look here, Dellow, we shall have to try to scare them away before they do any more mischief.”
“Well, we are scaring them,” said the mate gruffly. “I believe we’ve brought down two.”