“We ain’t out of the frying-pan yet,” whispered the Westerner. “There’s a sunken island hyarabouts, and if we strike it, there’ll be the deuce to pay.”
With the utterance of the final word, Frontier Shack suddenly guided the canoe to the right, and the next second several rifles flashed on the bank.
An oar dropped from the strong hand that griped it, and the boat was borne around by the rapids.
Suddenly it struck!
“The island, by Joshua!”
George Long sprung to his feet, and the following moment the light craft capsized, hurling him out into the water!
He could not repress a shriek, as he struck the sand, and felt it ingulfing his nether limbs, drawing him, slowly yet surely, down to a terrible death!
Frontier Shack had suddenly disappeared, nor was Massasoit to be seen.
The unfortunate boy struggled bravely; but the accursed sand continued to drag him down. He could not extricate himself.
Suddenly he saw two Indians spring to the water’s edge. The stars revealed their forms and actions.