It was well that they were so prompt in their movements, for the next minute the red man burst from the woods, and came rushing and chattering toward them as if he intended to overhaul them by swimming. His words were unintelligible, being in his native tongue, but there was no mistaking his wrath. "I belave the gintleman is excited," remarked Larry, swinging the paddle more leisurely. "It looks that way----" "Sh! mind your eye!" Something whizzed by the head of Wharton and splashed in the water beyond. It almost grazed his cheek, and seemed to be like a cannon ball. For all purposes it might have been considered such, for had it struck the youth, the result would have been fatal. The crazy Indian had hurled a large stone with prodigious force and accuracy. Little need, it would seem, of such a thrower carrying a firearm. As Wharton turned his affrighted gaze around he saw the fellow about to hurl another. "Gracious! he will kill us," exclaimed the youth, bending his head forward to dodge the terrible missile. "No, he won't, ayther." As Larry spoke he dropped his paddle, caught up his rifle, and, pointing toward the red man, fired. CHAPTER XX. ACROSS THE GORGE. "Heavens, Larry, you have killed him!" was the horrified exclamation of Wharton Edwards. "Be easy now," coolly replied his companion, putting down the weapon and resuming the paddle; "he isn't hurt." "Didn't you aim at him?" asked his friend, who, looking back, saw no signs of injury on the part of the Shawanoe. "Not so loud," whispered Larry; "he might hear you." The youth drove the canoe farther out into the lake, but all the time he kept his head turned so as to see every movement of the Indian. Larry had not aimed at him; nothing in the world would have induced him to shoot the poor, demented creature; but he meant to give him a good scare, and he succeeded. Instead of throwing the stone in his hand he dropped it at his feet, whirled about, and ran for the trees. As he did so he dodged from side to side like a Digger Indian when trying to distract the aim of his enemy. "That's better than killing him," commented Wharton, with a sigh; "he thinks you intended that shot for him, and he doesn't mean to give us a second chance." "But he is taking a second one himself. Look out!" Wharton saw a shadowy something sailing through the air overhead. It struck in the water several yards beyond the canoe with a "chung," but had gone wide of the mark. From the fringe of shadow the Shawanoe had hurled another missile, but he had thrown it with such vicious fierceness that it missed the target altogether. Before he could repeat the attempt with more care, Larry impelled the boat beyond his reach, and that particular danger for the time was past. "I wonder if he can throw across the lake?" muttered Larry; "keep a sharp eye on him, for he may begin a bombardment bimeby that will lay us out."