my good friend Tandakora?"

"Did you make an end of him?" asked Robert breathlessly.

"No," replied the hunter, although his tone was one of satisfaction. "I
had to shoot when I saw the flash of his rifle, and I had only a glimpse
of him. But I saw enough to know that my bullet took him in the
shoulder. His rifle fell from his hand, and then he dropped down in the
underbrush, thinking one of you might snatch up a weapon and fire. No, I
didn't make an end of him, Robert, but I did make an end of his warfare
upon us for a while. That bullet must have gone clean through his
shoulder, and for the present at least he'll have to quit scalp hunting.
But how he must hate us!"

"Let him hate," said Robert. "I don't care how much his hate increases,
so long as he can't lie in ambush for us. It's pretty oppressive to have
an invisible death lurking around you, unable to fend it off, and never
knowing when or where it will strike."

"But we did fend it off," said the big hunter, as he reloaded the rifle
of which he had made such good use. "And now I can see the stream
widening ahead of us, with natural meadows on either side, where no
enemy can lay an ambush. Easy now, lads! The danger has passed. That
fiend is lying in the thicket binding up his wounded shoulder as best he
can, and tomorrow we'll be in Canada. Draw in your paddles, and I'll
take mine. You're entitled to a rest. You couldn't have done better if
you had been in a race, and, after all, it was a race for life."

Robert lifted his paddle and watched the silver bubbles fall from it
into the stream. Then he sank back in his seat, relaxing after his great