more like a flying demon than a man, came the Catawba, one hand gripping
the scalping-knife, the other flung aloft to flaunt his terrible
trophies in sight of his pursuers. They were so close upon him that
waiting promised death for all of us; so Jennifer dipped again to send
the canoe a broad jump from the bank.

"Ready!" he cried. "He'll take the water like a fish, and we can pick
him up afterward--_Now_!"

I heard the clean-cut dive of the Indian, and struck the paddle deep to
balance Jennifer's stroke. But as I bent to put my back into it, some
flying missile caught me fair behind the ear, and but for Jennifer's
quick wit I should have swamped the crazy shallop. In a flash he jerked
me flat between his knees and sent the pirogue with a mighty thrust
beyond the zone of fire light.

At that, though all the sense was beaten out of me, I was alive enough
to hear the savage yells of disappointed rage behind us; these and the
spitting crackle of a dozen rifles fired at random in the darkness. But
afterward all sounds, save the rhythmic dip and drip of Jennifer's
paddle, faded on the sense of hearing till, as it would seem, this
gentle monody of dipping blade and tinkling drops became a crooning
lullaby to blot out all the years that lay between, and make me once
again a little child sinking asleep in my young mother's arms.




XVI