Though Courtenay did not allow ten seconds to pass without a glance at the charming face by his side, he, nevertheless, had a sharp eye for events elsewhere. He saw smoke rising from the funnel of the ship; a line of flags dancing from the foremast told him that Boyle had discovered them as soon as they were clear of the deep shadow of Guanaco Hill. But there were anxious moments yet in store. A fleet of canoes put off from Otter Creek. There was every prospect of a fight before they reached their fortress. They had a long two miles to travel, and the Indians could attack them ere they covered half the distance. Gray and Tollemache were sitting together in the fore part of the boat. When they had met in the cañon they had merely exchanged a hearty grip, and Gray’s inquiry if his friend was O.K. had elicited the information that his general state was “Fair.” But the sight of the sparkling bay had unlocked even the Englishman’s lips, for he was telling his friend some of the adventures of the previous afternoon, when he viewed the black dots darting forth from behind Point _Kansas_. “Here they come again,” he growled. “I never have seen such persistent rotters. And this time we’re in a fix.” A long blare from the ship’s siren thrilled their hearts, but the excitement became frantic when three short, sharp blasts followed, and every sailor knew that the chief officer had signalled: “My engines are going full speed astern.” That was a pardonable exaggeration, but the _Kansas_ was certainly moving. They could see the white foam churned up by her propeller. With one accord they cheered madly, and the oars, double-handed now, tore the life-boat onward at a pace which outstripped even the shallow canoes. Then the Indians did a wise thing. They spared many of their own lives, and, perchance others of greater value to the world, by ceasing to paddle. The unlooked-for interference of the great vessel was too much for them. They merely stared and cackled in amaze, while the small flotilla dashed towards the towering black hull, and Boyle lowered the gangway in readiness to receive the captain, his bride elect, and a good half of the passengers and crew. Courtenay lost not an instant of favoring tide and fine weather. When Boyle told him that Walker could work the engines under easy steam, he dashed up to the bridge three steps at a time. With his hand on the telegraph, he superintended the hoisting on board of the life-boat and two of the canoes, which he meant to carry away as trophies—be sure that Elsie’s own special craft was one of them. Meanwhile, Boyle saw to the safe stowing in the remaining canoes of the wounded Indians in the fore cabin, and a few furnace bars attached to a rope anchored them in mid channel, whence their friends could bring them to shore later.