The dismissal was imperative, and after sweeping the edge of the forest and gazing for a long time up and down the river again and again with his glass, Brace stopped beside the American, who was seated on the bulwark with one arm holding on by the shrouds and his rifle across his knees, silent and watchful in the extreme.
“Seen anything?” whispered Brace.
“A few fireflies; and I’ve heard a splash or two: that’s all,” was the reply.
“Think we shall be attacked to-night?”
“Likely enough. If we are it will be by canoes dropping down from that projecting part of the bank yonder. The enemy will come upon us quietly in the darkness, and we shall only know they are here when they begin swarming over the side.”
“And then?” said Brace, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon the dimly-seen point a hundred yards above, where a faint spark of light glimmered out from time to time as if a party of savages were gathered there, and were passing the time in smoking before the attack was made.
“Well, then,” said Briscoe coolly, “we shall have to shoot some, and knock the rest back into their canoes or the river, I suppose.”
“That sounds pleasant,” said Brace.
“Yes, but we must take the rough with the smooth. One can’t expect everything to go right. But don’t let’s meet trouble half-way. Just as likely as not we may go on for a month now and see no more of the enemy. I wonder whether this river leads up to the old golden city.”
“Which old golden city are you speaking of?” asked Brace wonderingly.