With a swirl and splash the manatee appeared, and as Raymon excitedly shouted, "Now, señor—now!" Donalblane pulled the trigger. But alas, for the pride of youth! The prized musket, hitherto so trusty, played him false. It flashed in the pan. There was no report, and its intended victim sank out of sight unharmed.
Just how it happened Donalblane never understood. Perhaps either he or Raymon, in their chagrin at the failure of the shot, made some sudden movement; but, however it was, the next instant the canoe overturned, and all the four of its occupants were tumbled into the water, Donalblane holding on to his gun, although the additional weight helped to deepen his involuntary dive into the turbid current.
Up he came, gasping and angry, to find that the Indians had happily been quick enough to secure the canoe and to cut the harpoon line, which otherwise would have torn it away from them. Still grasping his gun, which he was determined to save if possible, Donalblane struck out for the others, and when he neared Raymon, the latter said cheeringly, "Me help you—they get canoe all right," and, taking the heavy firearm from the boy, swam as easily with it as if it were a walking-stick.
Meanwhile the paddlers, with a skill that astonished Donalblane, proceeded to right the canoe, free it of water, and clamber in, Raymon following their example and then assisting the young Scotsman to do likewise. Donalblane took it for granted that the untoward upset put an end to the manatee hunt, but Raymon had no such notion.
"Manatee soon die—we go after him," he said, and, after a keen scrutiny of the surrounding water, he gave directions to the paddlers, who resumed their work as stolidly as if nothing had happened. Donalblane thought it would be very much like hunting for a needle in a hay-stack, but kept his own counsel while the canoe sped shoreward.
They were more than half-way thither when Raymon, who had fastened the remainder of the rope on to a small spear, showed signs of excitement.
"Me see him!" he exclaimed in a stage whisper. "We get him this time."
Sure enough, just as he spoke, the ugly grey head of the manatee rose above the water, and it was evident from the slowness of its movements that its strength was fast failing.
Steadily the canoe gained, until once more it was within striking distance, and Raymon hurled his spear with no less accuracy than he had the harpoon. The poor manatee made one furious plunge forward as the sharp steel reached a vital part, and then all motion ceased. The hunt was ended.
One of the paddlers instantly sprang into the water and caught the end of the severed harpoon line, which was at once secured to the canoe, for otherwise the great body would sink and all the trouble be in vain. Then the bulky prize was towed ashore, and Donalblane had the satisfaction of having taken part in a successful manatee hunt, even if he had been denied the privilege of getting a shot.