"To the canoe! Back for your lives!" he shouted, and simultaneously rushed for the shore. Dick and Ande were either too confused by the yells around them or hard pressed in the conflict to give heed. Not so the crafty pilot. With instinct he seemed to understand the import of the retreat, and rushed headlong into the water after the canoe. The rope by which it was attached had stretched itself to its full length and the canoe had edged out by the force of the rising current. He had almost reached it when a shot rang out from the shore, and the pilot, flinging up his arms, plunged into the muddy tide. Hunter Tom who was next to him, tried ineffectually to grasp his falling form, but the next moment the swirling waters bore him away. There was no time for regret. The canoe was hauled in and Tom in its bow, with knife ready to sever the rope, looked shoreward for his friends. Ah! What a scene! A sight that, though it filled the old hunter with alarm, yet thrilled him with admiration. Ande, apparently deeply wounded, was on the ground and Dick--did he ever appear so heroic? Standing head and shoulders above the tall savages, he seemed like a pine surrounded by scrub oaks. Nor was the giant Cornishman idle for, like a child's toy, the heavy rifle whirled and whistled around his head and shoulders. Death lurked in its sweeping circle. Nor was strategy of any avail. One sought to run in under his guard, while another was receiving the attack, but the attacking party went down under a terrific swing, while the stooping, swiftly moving strategist received, the next moment, a jolt from the end of the gun barrel that was as disastrous as the blow of the butt. Four had already fallen under those sweeping blows. Old Tom paused not for an instant. While some occupied Dick's attention in front, one or two were edging toward the rear, and should they accomplish their purpose the end was certain. With a cry of "Have at them," the hunter leaped from the canoe, beat off the skulking forms in the rear, and then reaching down he grasped the unconscious Ande, like a father would a child, and hurriedly placed him in the canoe. "Back, Dick, lad!" he shouted as he pushed out a little from the shore. Dick heard the call, and with another sweep of his weapon cleared a broader circle, but the rifle unused to the unnatural strain, broke at the lock. Flinging the shattered piece in the face of an advancing enemy he leaped to the shore. Two Shawnese, one a powerful built fellow, strove to intercept him, but there were other defences.