The little party crowded around him with eager questions.
"I followed them down to the landing," he said. "They had just shoved off in their dugout and were headed back for their old camp and paddling away for dear life.
"I had not long to wait before I discovered the reason for their haste. Far up the stream was a big fleet of Indian dugouts coming down, there must have been forty of them at least. Then all was as plain as print: the convicts were aiming to get back to their ponies and make their escape on them. Likely they would have done so if Indian Charley had only warned them a little sooner, but they were too late."
"Go on," said Charley, eagerly, as Walter paused in his story.
"They had only got as far as that little island near this one, when another big fleet of canoes appeared just ahead of them. I guess they realized that they stood no show to make a successful fight for it, crowded up as they were in the dugout; anyway, they ran ashore on that little island and threw up mounds of sand and are lying behind them."
"Have the Indians attacked them?" Charley demanded.
"Not a shot has been fired. The Indians have formed a circle around the island with their canoes just out of good gunshot and seem to be waiting."
"Let's all go down to the landing," proposed Charley, eagerly, as Walter concluded his account.
The others were as excited as Charley and readily agreed to the proposal.
They found the situation just as Walter had described, the little island with the band of convicts on it with the circle of canoes around it.