"They see us!" she cried.

"Don't wriggle so, Marjory--trim boat!" he panted. "They can't hit us,
and we can go two miles to their one."

"And we can get to Bracken's!" she cried triumphantly. A deep flush
overspread her pretty face.

"Hooray!" he shouted with a grin of pure delight. Far away on the
opposite bank Anderson Crow and his sleuths were congregating, their
baffled gaze upon the man who had slipped out of their grasp. The men
of the posse were pointing at the boat and arguing frantically; there
were decided signs of dispute among them. Finally two guns flew up, and
then came the puffs of smoke, the reports and little splashes of water
near the flying skiff.

"Oh, they are shooting!" she cried in a panic.

"And rifles, too," he grated, redoubling his pull on the oars. Other
shots followed, all falling short. "Get down in the bottom of the boat,
Marjory. Don't sit up there and be--"

"I'll sit right where I am," she cried defiantly.

Anderson Crow waved to the men under Crow's Cliff, and they began to
make their arduous way along the bank in the trail of the skiff. Part of
the armed posse hurried down and boarded the raft, while others followed
the chase by land.