“Look again!” exclaimed Sandy, quickly.
The man was shaking his clenched fist after them, and, even as they looked, he uttered all sorts of horrible threats. Some one on board fired a shot, and the bullet threw up the sand close to the feet of the fellow, who, taking the hint, made haste to disappear in the bushes.
“Keep down!” called Mr. Armstrong; and hardly had he spoken than there was heard a crackling of guns here, there and everywhere among the trees, showing that the red foe had been cunningly concealed, in the hope that the defenders of the flatboat might be lured into approaching the shore.
This time those on board answered the fire, as they caught glimpses of dusky figures dodging from tree to tree.
The duel of guns was kept up for some little time. Many a bullet, as well as dozens of feathered barbs, struck the bulwarks or cabin of the flatboat; but, since the white defenders were wise enough to keep themselves well hidden, little damage resulted from the furious bombardment, one man alone receiving a slight wound from a bullet, that must have glanced off the side of the cabin wall.
On their part the pioneers believed that they had struck a number of the enemy, although they could not be positive about this, since they had not seen any actually fall. The Indians, however, found that they were getting more than they bargained for, and when another half-hour had passed the firing ceased.
“I hope they’ve given it up as a bad job,” remarked Sandy, who had sent several shots during the exciting time. “I wonder if I really did wound that brave who was lying in that clump of bushes.”
“I think you must have hit him,” Bob replied; “because, as soon as you fired, he came tumbling out, and plunged into that hole behind the three trees, and I’m sure he acted as if something bothered him.”
“That’s so, Bob, he did make me think of the way I got around when that hornets’ nest upset, and they all came out to get at me. It felt pretty warm for me just then; and I guess it did for that brave. But, do you think they have drawn off, and mean to let us alone?”
“I’m afraid that in some way, perhaps by means of the smoke signals, we know about, they may send word down the river of our coming; and that would mean, you know, Sandy, a continual war all along the line to the Mississippi. I’m afraid we’ll have only too many just such fights on our hands, before we get to where we want to settle down.”