The man was very tall, with a face by no means unhandsome, although it was disfigured by a settled scowl, which better befitted a savage enemy than a white friend.

He held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe.
[Illustration: He held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe.] "I knew the distance was too great," he muttered, "but you will hear of me again, Harvey Richter.

I've had a dozen chances to pick you off since you and your friends started up-stream, but I don't wish to do _that_.

No, no, not that.

Fire away; but you can do me no more harm than I can you, at this moment." Allowing the bushes to resume their wonted position, the stranger deliberately reloaded his piece and as deliberately walked away in the wood.
In the meantime, the voyagers resumed their journey and were making quite rapid progress up-stream.