THE ATTACK
We had only a couple of minutes for anticipation, for we were coming down like a runaway race-horse toward the narrow place in the chasm where they stood.
Jim swung the boat over to the middle of the stream to get the benefit of the fastest rapids, for it was speed just now that we needed more than anything else.
We might have steered in close to the wall under them, but there was a nasty "sag" that would have rendered us helpless, and when we did get into the current again we figured that we would lose headway and make a better target.
We could make out that there was great excitement among the Indians, on the ledge some four hundred feet above the stream. There was little doubt about their intentions now, and they were not of the peaceful variety.
One of them had a carbine which he aimed toward us, a little puff of smoke and then there was a flick in the water back of us.
Others stood with bows drawn back at full strength as they poised forward and let fly a snow storm of their white feathered darts.
Swish, swish they cut into the water all around us.
"It beats the hail storm way back in Kansas," yelled Jim.
Six or more of the arrows struck in the boat. One transfixed the top of the cabin. As if stung, our boat leaped forward down the rapid.