"Not a bit," answered his chum cheerfully, "but hurry up or we will be getting another volley."
The canoe had drifted beyond the point before her way died out, but was still less than a hundred yards from it. By the splashing of water the boys could tell that the convicts were launching one of the dugouts in pursuit. With vigorous strokes Charley sent their light craft flying ahead; a few minutes and they would be out of rifle-shot and out of danger, but again there was the crack of rifles and Charley called to his chum with a voice hoarse with pain, "You'll have to take her, Walt, they got me that time."
"Bad?" cried Walter anxiously, as they changed places.
"In the shoulder," weakly, "but don't mind about me. Shove her ahead as fast as you can, the others have got quite a start of us, and we've got to catch them."
For half an hour Walter paddled silently on, putting all his strength into the strokes that sent the light craft leaping ahead, leaving the pursuing dugout far behind.
"Charley," he called at last, "isn't it time we were up with at least the chief's dugout?"
But only silence greeted his question, his plucky chum had fainted from pain and the loss of blood.
For a few moments Walter let the canoe drift, while he pondered as to what he should do. He felt sure that they had passed the captain and his companions—but how? In the excitement of the pursuit he must have passed unnoticed a point where the river branched and had taken the wrong fork. There were, he knew, dozens of such forks to the river and the mistake was one that might easily have been made under any circumstances. The question now was what to do about it. To return was to run the risk of falling into the hands of the convicts, and the chance of finding the stream the others had taken was exceedingly small. There might be a dozen tributaries between him and the convicts' point, and how was he to tell which was the right one? In desperation he crawled forward to his unconscious companion and sprinkled his face again and again with water from the river.
At last Charley opened his eyes with a moan of pain.
"We're lost," shouted Walter eagerly. "I can't find the captain or chief, what shall I do?" He bent his head to catch the feeble answer from the wounded lad's lips.