“Run!” I shouted to De Croix.  “To the boat, quick!  The savages are upon us!”

He made no motion, and I grasped him.  Rarely have I laid so heavy a hand on one in friendship; but I lifted him from off his feet and flung him bodily into the boat’s bottom, scarce waiting till he struck before I had my shoulder against the stern to send the craft free from shore.  I know not what mischance caused it, whether I slipped upon a stone or tripped over a hidden root; but as I shoved the boat far out into the dark current of the river, instead of springing after it, as I had meant to do, I toppled and plunged headlong down at the edge of the stream.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE BATTLE ON THE SHORE

What followed was long a famous story on the border, and I have even read it written out most carefully in books purporting to tell the history of those troublous times.  None of them have it as I recall the details of the incident, although it all occurred so rapidly that I myself can hardly tell just how ’t was done.

I know that I scrambled again to my knees, resting half in the water, my purpose being to fling myself into the river in an effort to regain the boat.  But it was already out of sight in the dense gloom, while not the slightest sound reached me for guidance.  Beyond this, I had no time for much save action.  Above me, upon the high bank not three yards away, I saw several Indian forms peering over; and then others, three or four, I am uncertain which, sprang lightly down within a yard of where I crouched in waiting.

My father gave me a frontier maxim once, which ran, “If you must fight, strike first, and strike hard.”  The words flashed in my memory, and I put them to the test straightway.  These prowling savages were apparently unaware of my predicament; their sole thought was with the boat floating away lakeward down the stream.  At all cost, they must be blocked in any purpose of pursuit.  These were the thoughts that darted through my brain like fire through stubble.  How many opposed me, how desperate would be the struggle, were matters of which I did not stop to think.  I could at least busy them until the fugitives were safe; after that, it was God’s affair, and theirs.  My rifle was wet and useless from my recent tumble; but before the group at the water’s edge even saw me I was fairly upon them, striking fiercely with my gunstock, and two savages went down, shrieking from pain and surprise, before so much as a return blow reached me.

It was not a noisy battle; from the outset it was too fierce and rapid for any waste of breath.  Never did I need my strength of body more, nor did the long training of my father come in better play.  I made that long rifle-barrel both club and sword, knife and axe in one, striking, thrusting, clubbing, in the mad fury with which desperation bids a man battle for his life.  I had no thought to live,