‘Oh, Grizzly!’ he cried in piteous tones. ‘What is the matter? Are you shot?’
An inarticulate gurgle from Ephraim was the only reply.
‘Speak to me!’ Lucius almost shrieked. ‘Oh! oh! Surely you are not killed. Speak to me, Grizzly! Speak to me! Oh! oh! Whatever shall I do?’
Thus adjured, Ephraim slowly opened his eyes and looking up into the anxious face bent over him, remarked quaintly, though without the least intention of being humorous: ‘Hello, Luce! Is thar a hole right through my head, or what?’
So great was his relief that Lucius broke into a joyous laugh. ‘Grizzly,’ he demanded with mock severity, ‘if you were not shot, what did you mean by tumbling over; and if you are not killed, what are you lying in the bottom of the boat for?’
‘Ye may say thet, Luce,’ returned Ephraim, uncoiling his long length and struggling into a sitting posture. ‘It war a mighty close thing, I reckon. Look at thet.’
He lifted his face as he spoke, and Lucius, with an exclamation of dismay, saw that his forehead was blackened with powder, and that one of his eyebrows and part of his front hair were singed off.
‘Ye see,’ said Ephraim, gingerly touching the raw and tender skin, ‘a leetle more and ye’d hev had ter steer yer way home alone. I reckon it’s a powerful frightenin’ sort er thing, a gun bustin’ off et ye when ye least expect it.’
‘But what happened?’ asked Lucius. ‘I wasn’t looking. That is, I looked up in time to see your cap go off and the gun slip out of your hand. The next I knew you were on your back.’ He gripped Grizzly’s hand and added earnestly: ‘I’m so glad you weren’t killed, old Grizzly.’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ answered Ephraim, still very white about the lips. ‘So am I.’ His voice shook a little as he tried to explain the matter to his comrade. ‘Ye see,’ he went on, ‘this is how I put it up. Ez I war splashin’ around with the gun-butt in the water, the trigger must hev got caught, or the hammer drawn back by a bolt and let go agen. The next thing I knowed war a rush er blindin’ light past my eyes, a wave like the breath er a bit of iron from a blacksmith’s furnace on my forehead, and thet’s all. I went down et thet, and didn’t feel like stoppin’ ter arsk questions.’