The effect of the shot had been beyond the captain’s expectation. In their utter astonishment and dread the Indians had to a man sprung out of the canoe, overturning it in the act, and were swimming and diving their best to reach the shelter of the hanging boughs, while their frail vessel was floating bottom upward rapidly down the stream.
“Good aim, Dellow,” cried the captain. “Well fired, squire.”
Brace glanced at the result of the shot, and then darted to the companion-ladder, to hurry down into the cabin so as to see what the consequences of the heavy report had been there, for in the hurry and excitement of the preparations he had for the moment forgotten his brother.
To his surprise and satisfaction, however, Sir Humphrey lay back sleeping heavily, with a soft dew beading his face, and evidently perfectly free from suffering.
Brace laid his hand upon his brother’s forehead, to feel that it was comparatively cool, and upon touching his wrist it was to find the pulse beating steadily and well.
The next minute he was stepping gently back, and ascended once more to the deck.
“Oh, here he is,” said the captain. “Look sharp, squire, if you want a shot at the blackguards before they get into shelter.”
“Not I,” said Brace half-angrily. “Ah, look, look!”
There was no need for him to shout, for a wild cry drew the attention of all to one of the swimmers, who suddenly threw up his arms and then began to beat the surface wildly, but only for a second or two, before with a couple of sharp jerks he was dragged under water, while another cry from the savage nearest to the shore gave warning that his was to be a similar fate, one jerk, however, sufficing to drag him under, just as his companions reached the shelter of the trees.
“Horrid,” growled the captain, as, evidently satisfied that there were no others to shoot, he stood close to the bulwark.