Therefore he dropped a bullet into the water, under the bow of the canoe, at eight hundred yards.
A moment later there was a sound which can only be written "P-ttt" between his legs, and he had to wipe a shower of dust from his eyes.

A puff of blue smoke rose slowly over the boat and a sharp report broke the silence a second time.
Then Victor Durnovo leapt to his feet and waved his hat in the air.

From the canoe there was an answering greeting, and the man on the bank went to the water's edge, still carrying the rifle from which he was never parted.
Durnovo was the first to speak when the boat came within hail.
"Very sorry," he shouted.

"Thought you were a native boat.

Must establish a funk--get in the first shot, you know." "All right," replied one of the Europeans in the approaching craft, with a courteous wave of the hand, "no harm done." There were two white men and six blacks in the long and clumsy boat.