musket, but the lashing fire of a Kentucky rifle like their own.

"That was Braxton Wyatt," said Henry. "I thought I could make him out in
that boat. He's got a rifle that reaches and he's a danger."

"Why don't you talk back?" asked Shif'less Sol.

"I will," replied Henry. "We're not at war with Spain, but we are surely
at war with Braxton Wyatt. I think the second man in the boat is Braxton.
Hold her steady just a second, Sol."

Henry shipped his oars, knelt a moment, and up went the long, slender
barrel of his Kentucky rifle. As he looked down the sight he was sure that
the man at whom he was aiming was Braxton Wyatt, and he was sure,
moreover, that he would not miss. But a feeling for which he could not
account made him deflect slightly the muzzle of his weapon.

Braxton Wyatt richly deserved death for crimes already done and he would
be, as long as he lived, a deadly menace to the border. But Henry felt
that he could not be both judge and executioner. He and Braxton Wyatt had
been young boys together. So, when he deflected the muzzle of his rifle,
it was to turn the bullet from his heart to his arm.

The rifle flashed, the sharp report echoed over the flowing waters, and a
cry of pain came from the pursuing boat, which quickly slackened its
speed.

"I hit him in the arm only," said Henry.

Shif'less Sol glanced at his comrade and he understood, but he made no
criticism.

"Ef you've stung him in the arm," he said, "it ain't likely that he kin
use that rifle o' his ag'in, an' I notice, too, since you shot that them
oarsmen ain't burnin' up with zeal. Now you row, Henry, while I plunk a
bullet in among 'em, an' they'll burn less than ever."

Shif'less Sol fired. He did not shoot to kill, but his bullet whistled
unpleasantly near the heads of the rowers, and, as he had predicted, they
rapidly lost zeal. The captured boat slid swiftly ahead.

"Here we are among the trees," said Henry. "Now, Sol, keep on rowing and
I'll look out that we don't run into anything."

The swollen waters rose far up on the trunks of the trees, which grew
thickly here, and Sol rowed slowly, making no noise save a slight ripple,
while Henry pushed the prow of the boat away from the trunks and the
bushes. It was very dark here and in a few minutes the pursuing boats were
shut out of sight.

"Thar ain't eyes enough in that Spanish camp to find us now," said
Shif'less Sol.

But they rowed deeper and deeper into the forest, and then,