He placed a small amount of the precious powder on a stone, and then held his flint and steel in readiness until such time as the boat came close enough to suit his purpose.
Then it was no effort for the experienced trapper to send a spark into the little pile of powder, which went off instantly, giving a brief but vivid flash.
All eyes were on the advancing flatboat, for it was a matter of importance to them to know whether the signal had been seen or not.
“There, they know we are here, and want to get aboard!” exclaimed Sandy, as a single shot came from the deck of the boat.
“If any of the Indians were on the watch, and saw the flash of powder, as well as the gunshot, they might give a guess what we were up to,” Bob remarked.
“We’ll hope, then, they gave up chasing after the boat, when they saw it was no use,” Sandy added.
The flatboat was now close by, and they could even see moving figures on the deck. The two boys felt positive that among them were their anxious parents; and the fact made them all the more eager to get safely aboard.
“Now they’re going to anchor!” declared Sandy; “and I can see somebody dropping back into the dugout that trails astern. Let’s get ready to put our meat aboard, and follow with ourselves.”
Immediately the small boat started straight for the end of the tongue of land, as though the paddler knew that those he sought were apt to be close by that point. Still grunting with his painful ankle, Pat insisted on picking up his share of the venison, with which he limped forward.