These next were anxious moments, but Brace did not flinch, and his companion went on talking with his eyes fixed upon the approaching enemy, each man holding an arrow to his bowstring, but unaccountably refraining from winging it home. He seemed to be in every case watching the muzzles of the guns in wonder and fear as he slowly approached.
“I want to cut and run horribly, Brace,” said the American, in a husky voice; “only I suppose we mustn’t. We shall look like porcupines directly—full of arrows, I expect; but keep up your spirits: I daresay we shall each have a fair share.”
“I say, don’t!” said Brace. “It is too serious to joke about.”
“And no mistake. Are they all aboard yet?” asked Briscoe.
“Don’t know, and can’t look round. I must face them. It would be ever so much worse to turn our backs.”
“Ten times,” said Briscoe. “Look out! I say; that’s a fresh party—twenty or thirty of them, coming out of the woods a quarter of a mile away. They ought to be too late to reach us.”
“Our men are all on board, and the Indians are going to rush us,” whispered Brace.
“That’s so,” said the American. “Be ready. I’ll say ‘Fire!’ Then wait till the smoke lifts, when I’ll give the word again, and then it’s a rush through the water to the boats. Bet you two cents I get most arrows in my back.”
“Steady!” growled Brace hoarsely.
“Fire!” shouted the captain from the boat, and, in spite of the order upsetting their plans, the covering party obeyed and sent their little shower of shot amongst the yelling enemies’ legs.