Paul was strong, and the grasp of the Indian was like the touch of fire to him.  He made a sudden convulsive effort, far greater than his natural physical powers, and the arms of the warrior were torn loose.  Both staggered, each away from the other, and while they were yet too close for Paul to use his rifle, he did, under impulse, what the white man often does, the red man never.  His clenched fist shot out like lightning, and caught the savage on the point of the jaw.

The Miami hit the earth with a thud, and lay there stunned.  Paul turned and ran with all his might, and as he ran he heard the war cry behind him, and then the pattering of feet.  But he heard no shots.  He judged that the distance and the darkness kept the savages from firing, and he thanked God for the night.

He had sufficient presence of mind to remember the stream, and he kept closely to its course as he ran back swiftly toward the canoe.

“Up, Jim, up!  The warriors have come!” he shouted, as he ran.

But Jim Hart, an awkward bean pole of a lion-hearted man, was already coming to meet him, and fired past him at a dusky, dancing figure that pursued.  The death yell followed, the pursuit wavered for a moment, and then Jim Hart, turning, ran with Paul to the canoe, into which both leaped at the same time.  But Hart promptly undoubled himself, seized the paddle, and with one mighty shove sent the boat out into the lake.  Paul grasped the other paddle, and bent to the same task.  Their rifles lay at their feet.

“Bend low, Paul,” said Jim Hart.  “We’re still within range of the shore.”

Paul almost lay down in the canoe, but he never ceased to make long, frantic sweeps with the paddle, and he was glad to see the water flashing behind him.  Then he heard a great yell of rage and the crackle of rifles, and bullets spattered the surface of the lake about them.  One chipped a splinter from the edge of the canoe and whistled by Paul’s ear, singing, as it passed, “Look out!  Look out!” But Paul’s only reply was to use his paddle faster, and yet faster.

The boy did not notice that Jim Hart had turned the course of the canoe, and that they were running northward, about midway between the island and the mainland; but the rifle fire ceased presently, and Jim Hart said to him: 

“You can take it easier now, Paul.  We’re out uv range, though not uv sight.”

Paul straightened up, laid his paddle in the boat, and gasped for breath.

“Look over thar, Paul, ef you want to see a pleasant scene,” said Jim Hart calmly.

Paul’s gaze followed the long man’s pointing finger, and he saw at least twenty warriors gathered on the bank, and regarding them now in dead silence.

“Mad!” said Jim Hart.  “Mad clean through!”

“They’ve chased us on land, and now they are chasing us on water.  I wonder where they will chase us next,” said Paul.

“Not through the air, ’cause they can’t fly, nor kin we,” said Jim Hart sagely.