“Give me my tools,” he hastily exclaimed. “There’s not a minnit tew lose. I sarcumvented the devils, but they’re arter me; so be lively.” He grasped his weapons as he spoke, and in another moment the three were seated in the boat. One vigorous push and it was afloat upon the dark waters. “Lay her straight acrost the river,” exclaimed David, the Markleys having taken the oars to allow the taxed muscles of the scout to relax. “Seems I didn’t git much start on ’em,” he added, “for they set up a yellin’ an’ started arter me with another boat. They gi’n me a race down the river, but that don’t matter—they can’t overhaul us!” Bending his head over the side of the canoe, he listened intently. Suddenly he started up with energy. “We don’t gain any,” he said, “but are holdin’ our own, good. Ladle the water with a will, boys, and we’ll weather ’em, for every stroke now counts _one_!” The brothers realized the importance of their exertions, and, with ceaseless sweeps, sent the boat skimming forward. The scout was still leaning over the side, listening, when suddenly he started, as though struck by a rifle-shot. “Hold up a moment; let me listen!” he remarked, in a tone of mingled impatience and alarm. They obeyed. What sound was that which sent the blood back in cold streams to the hearts of the brothers? At no great distance in advance of them, could be heard the confused murmur of voices, and splashing of paddles? No wonder the scout’s cheek momentarily blanched, and his eyes seemed starting from the sockets, in the vain effort to penetrate the gloom. Much as the darkness obscured the vision, it was all that saved David Barring now. Bending close to the brothers, and speaking in that calm tone which marked the man during seasons of greatest danger, he said: “Turn her down-stream, boys, and row fer yer lives. We’re runnin’ square into a nest of the human hornets. Paddle lively; fer, if the moon rises, we’re goners—that’s all!” The brothers comprehended only too well their peril to hesitate for a moment. The canoe was turned in the required direction; but, ere this was accomplished, they could distinctly hear the rapid approach of the Indian flotilla. So soon as the new direction was taken, they laboured with a determination which almost threw the craft from the water at each successive stroke; but a cruel fate was against them. “It’s no use,” the scout at length whispered; “we can’t pass ’em in that way! All we kin dew, is to turn back, and run the resk of these red fiends behind us!” It was a hazardous course, but the only one left open to the fugitives.