The Seneca fired, but without result; and the three unwounded Indians
in the canoe--for it had contained four men--replied with a volley.

Harold felt a burning sensation, as if a hot iron passed across his
arm.

"Hit, boy?" Peter asked anxiously as he gave a short exclamation.

"Nothing to speak of," Harold replied.

"The varmints are lying by, waiting for' the other canoe. Paddle
straight at 'em."

The Indians at once turned the boat and paddled to meet their
companions, who were fast approaching.

"Now," Peter exclaimed, "we've got 'em in a line--a steady aim this
time."

The three rifles spoke out; one of the Indians fell into the boat and
the paddle of another was struck from his grasp.

"Now," the scout shouted, "paddle away! We've got 'em all fairly
behind us."

Day broke just as they were again abreast of the island. One canoe
was following closely, two others were a mile and a half behind,
while the one with which they had been engaged had made for the
shore.