He paddled the bateau with all his vigor, until he had obtained the desired position.
The graybacks in the water, realizing that they were engaged on an errand of peace and humanity, had left their muskets on shore.

They were, therefore, comparatively harmless; but the one on shore had reached the ford, and picking up one of the muskets of his companions, without threat or warning, fired.

It was lucky for Tom that he was not a Tennessee sharpshooter, nor a Texas ranger, for the shot passed harmlessly over him.
The soldier dropped the gun, and picked up the other, which he instantly discharged, and with better aim than before, for the ball struck the bateau, though not within four feet of where Tom stood.
"Don't waste your powder, if you can't shoot better than that," shouted one of the soldiers in the water.

"You'll hit us next." "Stop him, then! Stop him!" replied the grayback on the shore.

"Kill him if you can." Tom was paddling with all his might to pass the ford before the soldier nearest to him should reach a position in which he could intercept the boat.