“He dove under and got away from the puppy,” Alex explained, as he leaned far over the side of the boat to assist Captain Joe on deck. “Did you lose him, old boy?” he asked patting the dog on the head.
“I’m afraid not,” Clay observed, turning his light on the dog and disclosing bloody water dropping away from the jaws.
Alex bent over his pet and saw a long knife wound on the shoulder.
“They sure got together in the water,” he said. “I guess that is a good Indian now!”
“It is a terrible thing to take a human life,” Clay said. “I hope the poor fellow got away.”
“So he can come back some other night when we’re not watching!” cried Alex. “If he hadn’t been trying to get us he wouldn’t have been here, and wouldn’t have been hurt.”
Captain Joe moved back to the cabin and lay down to lick his hurt.
“You’ll have to keep him chained,” Clay suggested, with a smile at the interested face of the boy.
“Huh!” cried Alex. “You keep your old Indians chained!”
There was another long silence. The flashlights were off, and the dog lay asleep at the cabin door. Then the puff-puff of a steamer was in the air, and the sound of churning water. As the boys listened the sounds grew fainter.