I flung forth a hand in vain effort to grapple his body, yet never touched it, and everything about became black once more.
"The poor devil's gone," muttered De Noyan.

"The rest of you lay down to your oars, before they have time to load again." So quickly did this occur I do not believe we lost more than a stroke or two, and were already well out into the stream, nothing except our narrow stern pointing toward the bank, where some of the soldiers--we judged from their voices--were reloading for a second volley, the others searching the shore after some boat in which to begin the pursuit.

It was a hard pull, especially upon my part, as I chanced to sit on the lower side, having full sweep of the current tugging against my oar, while De Noyan headed the boat as directly as possible for the western shore.

The soldiers, completely swallowed in the gloom, made no further attempt to fire; possibly, having seen the fall of the black, they believed their work done.

Nor did other sounds reach us evidencing pursuit; for that moment at least we were free.