"Keep on, keep on. When the river forks, take the largest stream, and—" but Charley had fainted again.
With a heavy heart, Walter crept back to his place in the stern and resumed the paddle. It was a terrible situation for a young, inexperienced lad; lost on a great river in a frail canoe, pursued by relentless enemies, and alone, except for a wounded, and perhaps dying companion. It was enough to strike terror into one much older than our boy hunter.
Throughout the long night the despairing lad paddled steadily on, praying for the day to break. At last it came with a blaze of glory in the east. When it grew light enough to see, he rose cautiously and gazed around him.
The prospect was disheartening enough. The river had narrowed to less than a hundred yards in width and wound and twisted amongst the waste of marsh that stretched desolately ahead and astern as far as the eye could see. To the east and west the marsh extended back at least a mile before it met solid timbered land, here and there, and an occasional long point jutted out until it met the stream. Although the weary lad strained his eyes in all directions, not a sign could he see of the other canoes or of any human life. With a sigh of despair, he sank again to his knees and crawled forward to where his chum lay half unconscious and moaning in pain.
Dipping his handkerchief over the side, he gently sponged Charley's pale face with it.
The contact of the cold water seemed to revive the wounded lad. He opened his eyes and attempted to smile, although his lips were twitching with pain. "What a nuisance I am, old chap," he said faintly.
"Not a bit," declared Walter, cheerfully, overjoyed at his return to consciousness. "Here, take a drink of this cold water, and then I am going to have a look at your wound."
With his hunting-knife, Walter cut away the bloody shirt from the shoulder and exposed the gaping hole to view. It was still bleeding slightly, but he noted with satisfaction that the bullet had passed completely through the fleshy part of the shoulder without touching the bone, a painful wound, but not a fatal one. He washed it clean with river water and bound it up with strips from his own shirt. "You'll be all right in a few days," he declared cheerfully. "Now just lay quiet. I am going to paddle in to the nearest point and start a fire and make you some broth."
Walter's heart was lighter than it had been in many hours as he again resumed his paddle. Day had brought fresh hope and courage. Charley was getting along far better than he had dared to hope during the night. He soon would be well enough to take command, and then, thought Walter, they would soon find their friends. He had great confidence in Charley's ability to get them out of their present predicament.
Suddenly Walter paused in his paddling and sat staring at the point, which was now scarce a hundred yards distant. A thin wisp of smoke curled up above the thick growth of palmettos with which the point was covered.