As soon as the warriors paddled into range, the signal was given. A hoarse voice called out "Fire!" Kimo took careful aim and fired at the closest canoe. A hole in its hull would impede their progress more than shooting one man, he figured... Someone must have given the order to fire the cannon, though Kimo didn't hear it through the noise of the musket fire, for suddenly a dreadful explosion tore through the canoes. He hoped they'd hit the lead canoe, for Indians believed it held great power and magic, and if they could stop that, the others might run. But there was no time for running, for the cannon blast set off a blinding rush of churned up water that sent craft flying through the air, to fall moments later like so many broken matches back into the Fraser River... It was the first time Kimo had aimed a weapon at a human being with intent to kill and he didn't like the feeling. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of the bodies littering the riverbank. He realized he was holding his breath, and exhaled painfully. His nose twitched from the acrid smell of smoke hovering overhead. He needed to draw a breath, but the air tasted harsh and scraped the tissue in his throat and lungs.