sight and hearing strained to catch any sound of
movement on the rapidly nearing point. Were it white men only that
they were seeking to elude, he would have felt far less apprehension,
but he recognized that in the person of Indian Charley they had to deal
with a mind crafty and cunning, that would be likely to provide against
the very move they were making. Even in his anxiety, Charley could not
but notice and admire the marvelous skill with which the young Indian
in the dugout handled his clumsy craft. He hugged close to the farther
shore and glided along its border as noiselessly as a shadow. The
captain, although but little used to the paddle, was also doing
surprisingly well and was following closely in the wake of the dugout.
Silently the dugout at last glided past the dangerous point, and a
moment later the captain's canoe also slipped gently by.

Charley gave a sigh of relief. They were safely past and could laugh
at any attempted pursuit in the clumsy dugouts the convicts possessed.

But that one unguarded moment of relief was disastrous in its result.
In a deep, careless stroke, his paddle struck a submerged log and the
slender blade snapped short off with a loud crack, the ticklish canoe
careened suddenly to one side, then righted again with a sullen splash.
At the sound the silent point quickly stirred with life. There was the
hum of excited voices and a blinding flash of flame lit up the
darkness, followed by the sharp crack of rifles and the hum of
bullets,--they were discovered.

"Give way all," shouted Charley, as he fumbled in the darkness for the
spare paddle, which he at last succeeded in finding. "Are you hurt,
Walt?" he called anxiously to his companion.

"Not a bit," answered his chum cheerfully, "but hurry up or we will be
getting another volley."

The canoe had drifted beyond the point before her way died out, but was
still less than a hundred yards from it. By the splashing of water the
boys could tell that the convicts were launching one of the dugouts in
pursuit. With vigorous strokes Charley sent their light craft flying
ahead; a few minutes and they would be out of rifle-shot and out of
danger, but again there was the crack of rifles and Charley called to
his chum with a voice hoarse with pain, "You'll have to take her, Walt,
they got me that time."

"Bad?" cried Walter anxiously, as they changed places.

"In the shoulder," weakly, "but don't mind about me. Shove her ahead