But the bullets always fell short.
"Foolish! Plumb foolish," said Jim Hart, "a-wastin' good powder an' good lead in sech a fashion!" "That one struck nearer," said Paul, as a little jet of water spurted up in the lake.

"Keep her off, Jim.

A bullet that is not wasted might come along directly." Hart sheered the boat off a little toward the island, and then took a long look at a warrior who had reached a projecting point of land.
"That thar feller looks like a chief," he said, "an' I kain't say that his looks please me a-tall, a-tall.

I don't like the set uv his figger one little bit." "What difference does it make ?" said Paul.

"You can't change it." "Wa'al, now, I was a-thinkin' that maybe I could," drawled Jim Hart.
"Hold the boat steady, Paul." He laid down his paddle and took up his rifle, which he had reloaded.
"Them Injuns have guns, but they are not generally ez good ez ours," he said.