Noiselessly the expert paddlers sent the canoe over the
bosom of the bayou, turning this way and that, in accordance with
whispered directions from Raymon, whose keen eyes searched the still
waters in front.

Several times Donalblane thought he saw ripples which suggested the
presence of their prey, but Raymon took no notice of them, and he was
beginning to grow impatient, when, at a signal from the Indian, the
paddlers suddenly plied their blades with tremendous energy, and the
light craft shot ahead at an amazing pace.

Donalblane could perceive nothing to explain this action, but rejoiced
at it nevertheless, and held his musket in readiness to fire.

On dashed the canoe, and presently Raymon rose in the bow, harpoon in
hand, and poised himself for a throw. Still Donalblane could make out
nothing, and he marvelled at the keenness of the Indian's vision, until
suddenly, not twenty yards in front of the canoe, the smooth surface of
the water was broken by the emergence of the hideous head and broad
shoulders of a monstrous manatee.

[Illustration: "PRESENTLY RAYMON ROSE IN THE BOW, HARPOON IN HAND."]

"Hurrah!" shouted the boy, quivering with excitement. "There he is;
and, my sakes, what a big fellow! Shall I fire at him, Raymon?"

But Raymon, without turning round, intimated by a warning gesture of
his free hand that Donalblane was to keep still, and the latter was
accordingly fain to curb his impatience.

In spite of his clumsy form, the manatee had a wonderful turn of speed,
and the sinewy paddlers strained every nerve to bring Raymon within
striking distance. The creature was evidently making for the deeper
waters, and if he succeeded in doing this before the harpoon struck
him, there was a good chance of his effecting his escape. For a few
minutes the issue of the race seemed much in doubt, and then, to
Donalblane's delight, the canoe began to gain. Yard by yard it drew
nearer, until at last, raising the harpoon as high as he could, Raymon,
with the whole strength of his arm, hurled it at the manatee.

It was a splendid throw, and the keen barb buried itself deep in the
thick, wrinkled grey hide, while at the same moment the stricken
creature sank out of sight, leaving a stain of blood upon the water.

"Grand!--grand!" cried Donalblane, putting down his gun for a moment
that he might clap his hands enthusiastically. "Ah! I wad like fine
to be able to do that."

Raymon's usually sombre countenance