"CRACK! crack!" rung out the reports of two rifles over the calm bosom of the lake, and two canoes, about fifty rods apart, seemed to leap from the water as they sped forward.
The course of both canoes was toward the western shores of the bay forming the north-western portion of Lake Erie. The one behind was manned by five Indian warriors, two of whom had just fired upon the boat ahead, which contained two personsa white man and an Indian. The bullets, however, had no other effect than to cut the water at the distance of several yards to the right of the pursued men.
"S'pose you take rifle now, Wounded Eagle?" said the Indian to his white companion.
"No, not yit, Goodbrand," said the other. "Thar's little danger of the devils hittin' us yit, but they want to make us lose time. Five oars ag'in' two is gre't odds, with a mile still afore us. Pull for y'ur life?"
The speaker was a man past forty years of age, with proportions denoting great strength and agility. Evidently, he had been through many rough scenes of border-life, for nearly every part of his body visible showed the marks of wounds. The most conspicuous of these was upon his face, one side of which was an entire scar. From this circumstance, he was called "Wounded Eagle" by the Indians.