A. M. Chisholm, Fur Pirates — 13. I Play a Lone Hand (1915)
“ Bullets sang all around me, spatted and richocheted on the water, buzzed through the air above my head. Half a dozen rifles blended in a rattling fire. Apparently they were all unhooking their guns straight downstream in the hope of hitting any one who might be there. I dropped flat in the canoe, and waited till the fusillade ceased.My paddle blade had been split, but I had a second paddle in the canoe, and, working furiously, I emerged from the creek to the lake. In spite of the wind it was calm enough there because the long, narrow point sheltered the creek's mouth. ”
