em
take you alive."

So saying, he resolutely entered the water, and any other man would have
had it up to his head, but the Canadian had all his shoulders above the
surface.

"Do not fire till after me," said Pepe to Fabian; "my hand is surer than
yours, and my Kentucky rifle carries twice as far as your Liege gun."
And he held his rifle ready to fire at the slightest sign of hostility
from the Indians.

Meanwhile, Bois-Rose still advanced, the water growing gradually
shallower, when an Indian raised his rifle ready to fire on the intrepid
hunter; but a bullet from Pepe stopped him, and he fell forward on his
face.

"Now you, Don Fabian!" said Pepe, throwing himself on the ground to
reload, after the American custom in such cases.

Fabian fired, but his rifle having a shorter range, the shot only drew
from the Indian at whom he aimed a cry of rage. But Pepe had reloaded,
and stood ready to fire again.

There was a moment's hesitation among the Indians, by which Bois-Rose
profited to draw towards him the body of the unlucky Gayferos. He,
clinging to his shoulders, had the presence of mind to leave his
preserver's arms free; who, with his burden, again entered the water,
going backwards. Then his rifle was heard, and an Indian's death-cry
immediately followed. This valiant retreat, protected by Pepe and
Fabian, awed the Indians, and some minutes after, Bois-Rose triumphantly
placed the fainting Gayferos on the island.

"There are three of them settled for," said he, "and now we shall have a
few minutes' truce. Well, Fabian, do you see the advantage of firing in
file? You did not do badly for a beginner, and I can assure you that
when you have a Kentucky rifle like us, you will be a good marksman."
Then to Gayferos, "We came too late to save the skin of your head, my
poor fellow, but console yourself, it is no such dreadful thing. I have
many friends in the same condition, who are none the worse for it. Your
life is saved--that is the great thing--and we shall endeavour to bind
up your wounds."

Some strips torn from the shirt of Gayferos served to bind around his
head a large mass of willow leaves crushed together and steeped in
water, and concealed the hideous wound. The blood was then washed from
his face.

"You see," said Bois-Rose, still clinging to the idea of keeping Fabian
near him, "you must learn to know the habits of the desert, and of the
Indians. The villains, who see, by the loss of th