Bidding the boat row abreast with six of the hay cutters, the two mates
and a third man ran along the beach in the direction Lopez had
disappeared. A sudden turn into a grove of trees showed Lopez
squirming mid a group of Indians, holding the thief by the neck and
shouting for "help! help!" No sooner had the three whites come on the
scene, than the Indians plunged their knives in the boy's back. He
stumbled, rose, staggered forward, then fell pierced by a flight of
barbed arrows. Haswell had only time to see the hostiles fall on his
body like a pack of wolves on prey, when more Indians {222} emerged
from the rear, and the whites were between two war parties under a
shower of spears. A wild dash was made to head the fugitives off from
shore. Haswell and Coolidge turned, pistols in hand, while the rowboat
drew in. Another flight of arrows, when the mates let go a charge of
pistol shot that dropped the foremost three Indians. Shouting for the
rowers to fire, Haswell, Coolidge, and the sailor plunged into the
water. To make matters worse, the sailor fainted from loss of blood,
and the pursuers threw themselves into the water with a whoop.
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