Resting here a moment, with his nose and eyes
just in sight, he commenced drifting down-stream, inch by inch, until
he caught a glimpse of the Miami's head over the edge of the canoe when
he returned to his former position under the stern and gathered his
energies for the struggle.
Sustaining himself by his feet alone, he reached his hands upward,
grasped the canoe in such a manner that it was firmly held on each
side. Holding it thus only long enough to make his hold sure, he
pressed the stern quickly downward, and then by a sudden wrench threw
the Miami upon his back in the water. Letting go his hold, the Huron
made a dash at him, and closing in the deadly embrace, the two went
down--down--down--till their feet struck the soft bottom, when they
shot up again like two corks.
Imminent as was the peril of Oonomoo, his greatest fear was that their
struggles would carry them below the rock, where the moonlight would
discover them to the Miamis on the bank. With a skill as wonderful as
it was rare even among his own people, he _regulated_ his movements
while submerged, in such a manner that they operated to carry both
combatants _up_-stream, had there been no current, so that when they
came to the surface, it was very nearly in the same spot that they had
gone down.
But Oonomoo and the Miami had whipped out their knives, and they raised
them aloft at the same instant. But neither descended. They were
still in the air, when the one spoke the simple word.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103