Whether he was hiding to spy on me, or was preparing to take me unawares, it was evidently impossible to continue the unloading, and I was inclined to take the offensive and pursue him; but time was pressing, for the afternoon was well advanced, so I got out my lines and holding two of them on the bottom with my feet, pushed a roller under the canoe’s fore-foot. With some difficulty I dragged her forward a little distance, and then slipped another roller under, and so managed to haul her right on to the rails, and when she was fairly on the rollers, I drew her along quite easily, a good deal of the weight being still borne by the water. I had pulled her along some distance when I noticed a large shell on the bottom, and thinking this might cut her skin, I stooped quickly to pick it up. As I did so, a big stone whizzed past, a few inches above my head. Had I been standing upright I should have been knocked senseless. This sort of thing would not do, at any rate, I thought, so snatching my catapult, stone-bag and spear from the canoe, I ran to a sand-hill opposite the one from which the missile had appeared to come, and creeping up it, crouched behind a high tussock of reedy grass. For nearly a minute my antagonist remained invisible. Then a head was warily advanced from behind the shoulder of the hill and slowly followed by the body. I fitted a good sized stone into my catapult and waited. Finding that I made no sign, he crept farther forward, and I saw that he held a large stone in one hand and a reserve of similar ones in the other. Suddenly I perceived that he was about to fling a stone at the canoe, possibly to draw me from my concealment; which it did, for I instantly let fly the pebble from my catapult, hitting him on the bone of the elbow; and as he leaped to his feet with a howl of rage, I caught up my spear and charged down the slope at him. Before he could recover himself I was so near that further dodging was out of the question, and he turned tail and ran for his life down the sand-hills and out on to the sandy flat, while I followed at his heels shouting like a Bedlamite. But I could not waste time in pursuit, so I stopped and taking careful aim, sent another pebble after him, which struck him a very audible rap on the back of his head, making him run even faster; and I continued to take shots at him (lest he should irresolutely turn back) until he took to the wet beach, and was evidently going off for assistance. Returning to the canoe, I continued the work of hauling her along, and managed without much difficulty until I came to the end of the creek, and laid my lines on the soft, blown sand, when I found it necessary to lighten her further.