"Up country is our only chance," I gasped, grasping an oar, vaguely noting a second figure huddled within the bow. "All the lower water is patrolled by the fleet, but above there are plenty of hiding places. Lay down to it hard, you black rascals; you are pulling for your lives."

De Noyan extended his hand toward the east.

"It will be dawn in about an hour," he said, a tone of earnestness creeping into his soft voice. "We can never pull against this stiff current so as to get any distance in that time. This east shore is flat as a board for leagues. I 'm for heading straight across. If we gain the west bank within an hour, or even two, the Devil himself would have a hard job to find us."

"Go on," I muttered, bending grimly to my task. "You know this country better than I. When we reach upper waters it will be my turn to guide."

As I uttered these words, a bit impatiently, there sounded a quick step on the low bank at our right. A sharp voice cleaved the darkness.

"Halt there! Halt that boat, or I put a ball through you."

"Sheer off lively, lads," I whispered. "Swing her head out, Chevalier."

There was a rush of feet down the steep embankment. Then a second voice questioned eagerly: "What was it you saw, Sanchez?"

"Nothing, Señor; I heard voices out yonder. Listen! As the saints watch, 't is the dip of oars."

"Halt that boat, or we shoot!"

There followed a moment's painful pause. An oar in our bow slipped, making an awkward splash in the water. "Caramba! you will not? Take aim, men--fire."

A jagged flash of flame cleaved the night. It lit the steep bank, flinging a bright glare across the dark waters. In that instant I saw, my face set shoreward, a dozen black figures clustered in a bunch. One ball crashed into the planking close beside my hand, hurling a splinter of wood against my face. The boat gave a sudden tremor, and, with a quick, sharp cry of pain, the negro next me leaped into the air, and went plunging overboard. I flung forth a hand in vain effort to grapple his body, yet never touched it, and everything about became black once more.

"The poor devil's gone," muttered De Noyan. "The rest of you lay down to your oars, before they have time to load again."

So quickly did this occur I do not believe we lost more than a stroke or two, and were already well out into the stream, nothing except our narrow stern pointing toward the bank, where some of the soldiers--we judged from their voices--were reloading for a second volley, the others searching the shore after some boat in which to begin the pursuit. It was a hard pull, especially upon my part, as I chanced to sit on the lower side, having full sweep of the current tugging against my oar, while De Noyan headed the boat as directly as possible for the western shore. The soldiers, completely swallowed in the gloom, made no further attempt to fire; possibly, having seen the fall of the black, they believed their work done. Nor did other sounds reach us evidencing pursuit; for that moment at least we were free. It was then I watched the coming of the dawn.




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