“The Fire-spouters!” exclaimed Ondikik.
“Three men in it!” cried Gartok. Then, as one after another of the canoes came into view, “Four! six! ten of them, and three men in each!”
“And all with fire-spouters!” gasped the lieutenant.
“Come,” exclaimed Gartok, “it is time for us to go!”
The Eskimos were by no means cowardly, but when they saw that the approaching foe was double their number, and reflected that there might be more behind them, all armed with guns, it was no wonder that they bethought themselves of retreat. To do them full credit, they did not move until their leader gave the word—then they sprang down the hillock, and in three minutes more were out in their kayaks making for the mouth of the river at their utmost speed.
On seeing this the Indians uttered a wild war-whoop and fired a volley. But the distance between them was too great. Only a few of the balls reached the fugitives, and went skipping over the water, each wide of its mark.
“Point high,” said Magadar to Alizay, who had just re-charged his gun.
The Indian obeyed, fired, and watched for the result, but no visible result followed.
“That is strange,” muttered the chief; “my brother must have pointed too high—so high that it has gone into the sun, for I never yet saw a bullet fired over water without coming down and making a splash.”
“It may have hit a canoe,” said Alizay. “I will try again.”