he men it seemed as if the
cutter was rising up to ride over some huge tree-trunk that was floating
across the centre of the stream--some obstruction that had been washed
out of the bank during a flood and whose roots still clung to the place
of its growth.

"Boat-hook," said Murray, in a low business-like tone. "Steady, lads.
Try if you can shove her off."

Then like a flash the lad grasped the reality of their position, for
voices rose from the right bank of the river, to be answered from the
left, and as the occupants of the boat came to the same conclusion, that
the great trunk against which the boat had struck must have been placed
there by their enemies, so many flashes of light streaked the darkness,
followed by loud reports, and then came a fierce yell of despair or pain
and a loud adjuration full of rage.

"Shove all you know with that boat-hook," whispered Murray, "and strain
all with those oars. Do you hear? Back-water!"

There was no question about the men hearing, for every one was striving
his best in a fierce struggle to get free from a tangle of sharp
water-washed boughs; but the boat, after running stem on to the floating
trunk and making as if to climb over the impediment, had swung round
almost parallel; the water pressed heavily all along its side, and then
seemed to be engaged in heaving it over, so that when Murray thrust one
hand down over to his left he found that the stream was rippling within
an inch of the gunwale, and in another few moments would have been over
the side.

It was a question of decisive action, and Murray shouted--

"Trim the boat starboard, all!"

That saved them for the moment, but at terrible risk, for it spoke
loudly to the enemy of their position, and in rapid succession almost
simultaneously three more streaks of light came from the right bank of
the river with their reports.

Murray gave vent to a low hissing sound, and then remained silent,
striving his utmost the while to thrust the boat away from the strong
tree-trunk; but his efforts, like those of his companions, were in vain.

"It's no good, sir," whispered Tom May; "we're a-shoving against one
another. Let me lead, sir, and I think I can do it. There's hard
bottom here, sir, and we're almost aground.--Fire away, you lubbers," he
added, in a whisper; "you can't hit us in the dark. Now then, Mr
Murray, sir, you take an oar along with the lads and wait till I say
`Pull.' Then all on you do your best