Bob fancied that they must be about in the same spot as where they had seen the grim line of fighting men outlined against the sky. He hoped there would be no one below to notice their passage at the time. "Do we fire the shots from here!" asked Sandy. "Not yit," replied the trapper; "we must git down near the river first. Depind on it, there do be plenty av time yit. The hathen wud crape along, afther gettin' above, and I'm thinkin' it might be all av half an hour afore they could rach the camp. Long afore thin we'll have our frinds a-sailin' down the river as nice as pie. Lave it to me, byes, and I do promise ye all will be well." And so Sandy had to repress his desire to yell, or fire his gun, or do something rash, in the hope of sending the alarm all the way over that mile of territory, so as to start the people on the flatboat down the river. They had less trouble in descending, though Pat grunted considerably as he frequently wrenched that lame ankle, in his efforts to walk. They could see the river shining in the light of the moon, when openings occurred in the trees. It seemed to have the appearance of an old friend. And how glad they would be when they glimpsed the boat moving along with the current, and a safe distance from the dangerous shore. "Now, I think it be time," said Pat, presently, when they had gained a spot at least half-way down the side of the bluff. "Tell us what we are to do, Pat," remarked Bob, as he deposited his share of the venison on the ground, and took his gun in both hands. Sandy was already prepared to carry out his share of the programme; for he always did things with great rapidity. "The arrangemint was this," said the trapper, impressively. "Three shots, aich about five seconds afther the wan afoore. Thin wait a minute or so, till we could reload our guns, whin the same thing was to be done agin. That winds up the performance. Are yees riddy?" Both boys answered in the affirmative. "Thin, Sandy, do ye fire first; and Bob, whin I say the worrd, lit fly. As for mesilf, I'll wind up the first relay in great style. Go it, Sandy!" Instantly the boy raised his gun, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud report, for those old-fashioned flint-lock muskets held a large charge of powder, and the wad was usually well rammed before the bullet followed it home. "Now, Bob!" and hardly had the words been spoken by the trapper than the second report rang out. Sandy was already feverishly reloading, when Pat followed with a third shot. "I wonder what the Indians will think when they hear that volley?" Bob remarked. "It's going to puzzle them a lot to make it out," Sandy declared. "But what if those at the boat shouldn't hear our signal, Pat?"