“What can you see?” I asked.
He pointed now, and I saw what he meant.
“The marks made by a boat,” I said. “Why, uncle, they must have come in a canoe, and been attracted by our fire. Can you see their canoe?”
“No,” said my uncle, after a long look round and away over the glittering waters. “But it’s bad, Nat. They will not have gone far away, and will be coming back here in search of it.”
“Then we shall have to take to the boat again and sail farther down the coast.”
“We’d better get on board, my lad, certainly,” said my uncle; “so let’s roll up the tent, and—ah! look-out! Quick, lad—your gun!”
I was ready directly, cocked both barrels of my piece, my heart beating fast in the emergency—for the danger we dreaded seemed to be at hand.