"Look!"
"A thousand demons!" the hunter exclaimed. "We are beset."
In fact, two canoes were rapidly coming up in the rear of the adventurers, while two others, starting from, the opposite sides of the river, were pulling ahead of them, with the evident intention of barring their passage, and cutting off their retreat.
"Voto a Dios! these Redskins want to make us dance a singular jaleo" Domingo muttered. "What do you say, old hunter?"
"Good, good!" Marksman replied gaily; "we'll find the music. Attention, comrades, and redouble your energy."
At a sign from him, all the men took up paddles, and gave such an impetus to their canoe, that it seemed to fly over the water. The situation was becoming critical for the whites. Marksman, upright, and leaning on his rifle, coldly calculated the chances of this inevitable rencontre. He did not fear the boats in pursuit, for they were at too great a distance behind, to hope to catch him; all his attention was concentrated on those in front, between which he must pass. Each stroke of the paddle diminished the distance which separated the white men from the Redskins. The hostile canoes, as far as could be judged from a distance, seemed overloaded, and only advanced with some difficulty. Marksman had judged the situation with an infallible glance, and formed one of those daring resolutions, to which he owed the reputation he enjoyed, and which resolution could alone save him and his friends, in these critical circumstances.
[CHAPTER XXVIII.]
RED SKINS AND WHITE.
Marksman, as we have said, had formed a final resolution. Instead of trying to escape by passing between the two canoes, which would have entailed a risk of being run down, he turned slightly to the left, and paddled straight toward the canoe nearest his own.