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Updated: June 4, 2025
I've heard something overhead that makes me sure they're up there, getting up some kind of deviltry." Mickey O'Rooney had not thought of the "opening" over their heads since the firing of his rifle-shot, and he now started and looked upward, as if fearful that he had committed a fatal oversight. But he saw or heard nothing to excite alarm. "Where are they?" he asked, in a whisper.
"We can then spread it on the ground, and protect ourselves from the moisture!" said Howard, who was beginning to appreciate the value of the article. "I've saan them things before," added Tim O'Rooney. "The Apaches and Mohaws in New Mexico make 'em. It has tuk a couple of squaws the bist part of a year to do the same." "But where is the owner?
The appearance it presented was very much like that of the gates of a mill-pond when they have been slightly raised to allow a discharge of water beneath. Through the passage-way thus afforded no living person could have forced his way; and, had Mickey O'Rooney attempted it, nothing in the world could have saved him from drowning.
And then his present situation resulted wholly from his own foolishness to call it no milder term in entering an unknown path with the simple hope of reaching a designated point a few minutes in advance of his friend, whom he knew well enough had carried out to the letter their agreement, and was waiting his coming. Had Howard found Tim O'Rooney? That was the next question.
Tim O'Rooney made a great deal of splashing, occasionally flirting a shower of spray over his friends as the paddle took an unexpected twist in his hand; but, as we have said before, he had had considerable experience in propelling a canoe, and he gave a little assistance to their dusky friend.
"Quick, Tim, drop down, or you'll be shot!" called out Howard, forgetful of his own danger in the single hope of saving his friend from a violent death. At the same instant that this cry was uttered the terrified boy saw a puff of smoke issue from the Indian rifle, and simultaneous with the sharp crack Tim O'Rooney was seen to fall flat in the canoe. "He is shot!" called out Elwood.
"Boys," said Tim O'Rooney, who had not let his pipe go out since morning. "Shall I give yez some good advice?" Both expressed their eagerness to receive it. "There bees plenty of the rid gintlemen yet in this counthry, and we haven't got beyant them.
If they were Indians, it was to be expected that they had canoes somewhere, and if they were speedily found, he would as speedily be overhauled. "In which case Tim O'Rooney will lose his daar, and be the same towken lose himself, and the boys won't get their dinner."
The indistinct object gradually took shape, and the boys then saw Shasta sitting in his small canoe, while directly behind him was Tim O'Rooney, his left hand extended backward and grasping the prow of his own boat, which was being towed by the Indian. The next moment the foremost lightly touched the shore and the savage sprung out, quickly followed by the Irishman.
They were relieved by finding that it had been done by Tim O'Rooney for the purpose of affording a means of ignition to some sticks and leaves. He and the Pah Utah were on shore, making as much preparation for their breakfast as though they had a dozen men to provide for. "What does yez think of it?" asked Tim. "All very well, but where is your breakfast?"
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