Leon formed a bold resolution, the only one that could save him and his. Instead of trying to pass between the canoes, in which he ran a risk of being sunk, he kept to the left, and advanced in a straight line on the canoe nearest to him.
On seeing this manoeuvre, the Indians broke out in shouts of joy and triumph. The smugglers made no reply, but continued to advance. A smile played round Leon's lips. As he steered the canoe toward the Indians, he noticed that the left bank of the stream formed an inlet, behind an island, which, though very near the land, left a passage sufficiently wide for his boat, which thus would avoid a detour, and at the same time gain ground on their pursuers. The great thing was, to reach the point of the island before the Indians in the first canoe.
The latter, who suspected their enemy's intentions, had changed their tactics, and, instead of coming up to meet the Europeans, tacked and paddled actively for the island. Leon understood that he must delay their progress at all risks.
Not a shot had as yet been fired on either side; the redskins felt themselves so sure of seizing the smugglers that they had thought it unnecessary, to proceed to such extremities, while the smugglers, who felt the need of saving their powder in a hostile country, where it would be impossible for them to renew their stock, had imitated their prudence, however desirous they might feel to attack.
The Indian canoe was only fifty yards from the island, when Leon stooped down to his comrades and whispered a few words. The latter shipped their paddies, and seizing their rifles, knelt down, and rested the barrels on the gunwale of the canoe, after driving home a second bullet. Leon had done the same.
"Are you ready?" he asked a moment after.
"Yes," the two men replied.
"Fire, then, and aim low."
The three discharges were blended in one. We have said that the two canoes were excessively close.
"Now to your paddles—quick!" the captain said.