"Lay to, or we shoot!"
"Shoot, dogs!" I shouted, ramming home the good measure of powder which I had poured into my hand. I followed it with a fair charge of slugs, and was wadding it loosely, when—
"Duck!" cries Tamin, bobbing his head lower than the tiller.
Neither Marc nor I moved a hair. But we gazed at the canoes. On the instant two red flames blazed out, with a redoubled bang; and one bullet went through the sail a little above my head.
"Not bad!" said Marc, glancing tranquilly at the bullet hole.
But for my own part, I was angry. To be fired upon thus, at a priest's orders, by a pack of scurvy savages in the pay of our own party,—never before had Jean de Briart been put to such indignity. I kneeled, and took a very cautious aim,—not, however, at the savages, but at the bow of the nearest canoe.
Tamin's big gun clapped like a cannon, and kicked my shoulder very vilely. But the result of the shot was all that we could desire. As I made haste to load again I noticed that the savage in the bow had fallen backward in his place, hit by a stray slug. The bulk of the charge, however, had torn a great hole in the bark, close to the water-line.
