It was not a long shot and the ranger would not have missed, but young Lennox at that moment stumbled and fell against him, causing the muzzle of his weapon to be deflected so much that his bullet struck the uncomplaining water.

Robert's heart leaped up as he saw the chevalier spring into the boat, which the stalwart Indians paddled swiftly away.
The entire Indian fleet now drew together, and it was obviously making for one of the little islands, so numerous in Andiatarocte, where it would be safe until the English and Americans built or brought boats of their own and disputed the rulership of the lake.

But the rangers and the Mohawks, eager to push the victory, rushed down to the water's edge and sent after the flying fleet bullets which merely dropped vainly in the water.

Then they ceased, and, standing there, uttered long thrilling shouts of triumph.
Robert had never beheld a more ferocious scene but he felt in it, too, a sort of fierce and shuddering attraction.

His veins were still warm with the fire of battle, and his head throbbed wildly.