"Great heavens!" he cried, "the paddle is broken."

Beatrice gasped.

"You must use the other blade," she said; "paddle first one side and
then on the other, and keep her head on."

"Till we sink," he answered.

"No, till we are saved--never talk of sinking."

The girl's courage shamed him, and he obeyed her instructions as best he
could. By dint of continually shifting what remained of the paddle from
one side of the canoe to the other, he did manage to keep her head on to
the waves that were now rolling in apace. But in their hearts they both
wondered how long this would last.

"Have you got any cartridges?" she asked presently.

"Yes, in my coat pocket," he answered.

"Give me two, if you can manage it," she said.

In an interval between the coming of two seas he contrived to slip his
hand into a pocket and transfer the cartridges. Apparently she knew
something of the working of a gun, for presently there was a flash and a
report, quickly followed by another.

"Give me some more cartridges," she cried. He did so, but nothing
followed.