"Shake, old man," he said with emotion. "If we don't get out we've been good pals."
"Right you are," replied the Baker. "Good old man."
And then Kitty put one hand behind her, and held up one finger. Then she made a motion with her hand which suggested swimming.
"There's one swimming over," said Smith; "but don't you look round unless I tell you."
And he went a little bit up the bank in order to get a view of the stream. He saw a head in the water half way across, and was heartily glad to see that it was not Bill. He looked at his six-shooter again. It was only a forty-two calibre, and he had always been accustomed to a forty-five; but he thought he could hit the man at fifteen yards. He bent down, and made a low noise, which caused Kitty to turn her head. He put his fingers to his ears, to make her understand that she was not to be afraid, and, raising his revolver, he brought it slowly down till he saw the foresight right in the nick. Staying one second to make sure his hand was steady, he pulled the trigger. He noticed that never in his life had the time seemed so long from the time the hammer fell to the explosion of the cartridge. But, as the shot echoed, the swimmer gave one plunge, rolled over on his back, and went under.
And until a heavy body came tumbling down the bank and struck him from his seat, he did not know that the Baker had fired at the very same moment as himself. For one of their enemies was lying dead with his matted hair in the very water under the canoe. And as the double shot rang out, the men of the Brodarro rose upon the other bank, and shouted terribly.
He did not know that the Baker had fired
at the very same moment as himself.
"But they are awful scared," said Kitty, who was now back with the Baker. "Who did you kill?"