"This looks bad!" exclaimed Reeves. "Stand by the steering oar, Gerald. Hugh, hand me up those guns."
In spite of the strong wind, that bore the boat along at a rapid pace, the canoes were steadily gaining, and the woods echoed to the monotonous war song of the natives and the rhythmical beat of the paddles.
Kneeling, Reeves fired a shot well above the heads of the men in the leading canoe. For an instant the paddlers hesitated, then with the greatest persistency redoubled their efforts.
"Rough luck!" growled Reeves. "I must wing some of them." Ere he picked up a second musket he drew his trusty automatic pistol and opened the magazine. Nine cartridges only remained.
Presently one of the negroes laid aside his paddle, and, standing in the bows of the canoe, levelled a huge gun that had once been the property of an elephant hunter.
Knowing that the charge might contain slugs, old nails, and a miscellaneous assortment of scrap iron, Reeves, who had no particular antipathy to a respectable bullet, ducked behind the transom of the boat, the lads having already taken refuge on the bottom boards.
With a resounding crash the elephant gun went off. Reeves instantly sprang to his feet to return the compliment, but the negro was no longer visible. His antiquated weapon had burst, sending him—a mangled corpse—into the river.
In the confusion the fugitives managed to gain a hundred yards; but the pursuers were not to be shaken off by an accident that is a common occurrence where "trade guns" are in general use. On and on they came, until within throwing distance, when a flight of spears was hurled with great precision, five or six being left quivering in the boat.
Reeves's reply was a charge of duck shot that put one canoe out of action. The others immediately diverged, and, forming into two lines, attempted to overtake the fugitives' boat on both quarters.
Hugh fired with successful results, while Gerald, handing a loaded musket to the correspondent, proceeded to recharge the first weapon.