“‘There ain’t room enough in this here canoe for both of us, young man!’
“‘Then it’s you as must go out of it, Don Spaniard,’ says my eyes.
“‘No; it’s you as must go out of it, you beggarly little soap-boiling Englishman,’ says his eyes.
“‘It’s my Mas’r Harry’s gold, and if he’s gone to the crockydiles I’ll save the treasure for his Miss Lilla and the old folks—so now, then!’ says my eyes.
“And all this, you know, was without a word being spoke; when all at once if he didn’t make a sort of a jump, and before I knew where we were he was at one end of the canoe and I was at the other.
“Well, you may say that was a good thing. But it wasn’t; for as I scrambled up there he was with both guns at his end, and me with nothing but my fisties.
“I saw through his dodge now, but it was too late; and in the next few moments I thought three things:—
“‘Shall I sit still like a man and let him shoot me?’
“‘Shall I rock the canoe over and let it sink?’
“‘Shall I go at him?’