Furious anger took hold of him.

He knew that he must soon become exhausted, while the men in the canoe would scarcely feel weariness.

Then came the idea.
The canoe was light and thin almost like the birch bark Indian canoe of the north, and he was a good marksman.

It was a last chance, but raising his rifle he fired the heavy bullet directly at the bottom of the canoe.
As the echo of the first shot was dying he slipped in a cartridge and sent a second at the same target.

He did not seek to kill the men, his object was the canoe, and as he ran rapidly away he saw it fill with water and sink, the two soldiers in the stream swimming toward the western shore.
Dick laughed to himself.