Both boys strained their ears. Unmistakably a hail had come out of the darkness.
“Clap on the search-light quick, Hardware,” ordered Ralph.
The boy snapped the light on. It blazed out fan-like in the night, cutting a broad circle of light that revealed the whole river as Hardware swept it from side to side. Suddenly he gave a shout and pointed.
Embraced in the circle of light, and right under their bow almost, was a frail boat. In it were seated two Indians. Their craft was piled high with baskets which they had been trying to sell among the islands.
The boys knew at once that the red men came from a reservation down the river and belonged to the St. Regis tribe.
“They’re coming right down on us!” cried Ralph.
“What’s the matter with them?” cried Harry. “I see,” he added immediately, “they’ve broken their paddle. See, they are waving the stump of it in the air! Steer out, Ralph! Steer out, or you’ll run them down!”
“I—I can’t,” exclaimed Ralph in an agitated voice.
“Can’t! Why not?”
“Don’t you see where we are? There are rocks on each side. If I turn out we’ll be ripped like an egg shell on them.”