And, when suddenly a series of fierce yells broke out, Sandy and Bob stopped in their tracks, shivering with fear.
Pat, however, only chuckled. He could read between the lines, and hence knew the true meaning of those loud cries.
“Sure they do be as mad as a wit hin,” he remarked, as a number of gunshots came to their ears, still accompanied by those shouts.
“Then you think our friends have escaped, do you, Pat?” inquired Sandy, eagerly.
“I do be sure av the same,” was the prompt answer.
“But listen to the firing that is going on!” Sandy continued.
“It is all on the wan side, I warrant ye, lad,” the trapper declared, with firm conviction in his manner.
“Yes, for I know the sound of those hateful French guns. They do not make the same kind of report as our own weapons,” Bob ventured to say. “And that means the Indians are just firing away at the floating boat, to give vent to their fury because their prey has escaped.”
“What if they follow the boat down the river, and come on us when we are trying to get aboard?” his brother asked, still seeing trouble ahead.