CHAPTER V.
JAKE COYLE’S SILVER MINE.
“Human natur’!” yelled Jake, when the ball sung through the air close to his ear. “I’m shot! Whoop! I’m killed.”
He let go his hold upon the snag and fell back into the water with a sounding splash; but rising with the buoyancy of a cork, and finding, to his astonishment, that he was not at all injured, he swam rapidly in my direction, but so silently that I could not hear the slightest ripple. The robbers, if such they were, were struck dumb by the alarming sounds that had been called forth by their random shot; but at length one of them broke the silence.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” said he, in savage tones. “You have added murder to burglary, and now we are in for it, sure. I’m off this very minute.”
“Where are you going, Tony?” asked his companion, in pleading tones.
“I’m going to get ashore and strike out through the woods the best I know how. I don’t care where I bring up, so long as I put a safe distance between myself and the guides who will be on our trail at daylight. They’ll track a fellow down as a hound would.”
“Are you going to desert me? I can’t swim ashore.”
“Then walk. The water isn’t up to your neck.”
“But the mud! What if it should be a quicksand?”
“The mud isn’t an inch deep. That boy told us a pack of lies from beginning to end. He capsized us on purpose; but I am sorry you shot him. Come on, if you are going with me.”