The promise was fulfilled and they floated peacefully on until afternoon. Then shots were fired at them from the northern bank, but the bullets spattered the water a full fifty yards short. Henry and Sol, who had the keenest eyes, could make out the outlines of Indians on the shore, but they were not troubled. "I'm sure it's just a small hunting party," said Henry, "and they can do us no harm. Their bullets can't reach us, and you can't run along the banks of a great river and keep up with a boat in the stream." "That's true," said Shif'less Sol, "an' I think I'll tell 'em so. I always like to hurt the feelin's of a bloodthirsty savage that's lookin' fur my scalp." He opened his mouth to its widest extent and gave utterance to a most extraordinary cry, the like of which had perhaps never before been heard in those woods. It rose in a series of curves and undulations. It had in it something of the howl of the wolf and also the human note. It was essentially challenging and contemptuous. Anybody who heard it was bound to take it as a personal insult, and it became most effective when it died away in a growling, spitting noise, like the defiance of an angry cat. Henry fairly jumped in his seat when he heard it. "Sol," he exclaimed, "what under the sun do you mean?" The mouth of the shiftless one opened again, but this time in a wide grin of delight. "I wuz jest tellin' them Injuns that I didn't like 'em," he replied. "Do you reckon they understood?" "I think they did," replied Henry with emphasis. "That bein' so, I'll tell 'em ag'in. Look out, here she comes!" Again the mouth of Shif'less Sol swung wide, and again he uttered that fearful yell of defiance, abuse, contempt and loathing, a yell so powerful that it came back in repeated echoes without any loss of character. The Indians on the bank, stung by it, uttered a fierce shout and fired another volley, but the bullets fell further short than ever. Shif'less Sol smiled in deep content. "See how I'm makin' 'em waste good ammunition," he said. "I learned that trick from Paul's tales o' them old Greeks an' Trojans. As fur ez I could make out when a Greek an' Trojan come out to fight one another, each feller would try to talk the other into throwin' his spear fust, an' afore he wuz close enough to take good aim. All them old heroes done a heap o' talkin' an' gen'ally they expected to get somethin' out o' it." "Undoubtedly the Greeks and Trojans had thrilling war cries," said Mr. Pennypacker, "but I doubt, Mr. Hyde, whether they ever had any as weird as yours." "Which shows that I'm jest a leetle ahead o' any o' them old fellers," said Shif'less Sol in tones of deep satisfaction.