And yet, scrutinized from the opposite bank, the lynx-eye of a veteran pioneer would have detected no other sign of the presence of a human being than the occurrences that we have already narrated; but the most inexperienced person would have decided at once upon the hiding-place of him who had given the moving impulse to the bodies.

Just at the summit of the bank was a mass of shrubbery of sufficient extent and density to conceal a dozen warriors.  And within this, beyond doubt, was one person, at least, concealed; and it was certain, too, that from his hiding-place, he was peering out upon the river.  Each bowlder had emerged from this shrubbery, and had not passed through it in its downward course; so that their starting-point may now be considered a settled question.

Supposing one to have gazed from this stand-point, what would have been his field of vision?  A long stretch of river—­a vast, almost interminable extent of forest—­a faint, far-off glimpse of a mountain peak projected like a thin cloud against the blue sky, and a solitary eagle that, miles above, was bathing his plumage in the clear atmosphere.  Naught else?

Close under the opposite shore, considerably lower down than the point to which we first directed our attention, may be descried a dark object.  It is a small Indian canoe, in which are seated two white men and a female, all of whom are attired in the garb of civilization.  The young man near the stern is of slight mold, clear blue eye, and a prepossessing countenance.  He holds a broad ashen paddle in his hand with which to assist his companion, who maintains his proximity to the shore for the purpose of overcoming more deftly the opposition of the current.  The second personage is a short but square-shouldered Irishman, with massive breast, arms like the piston-rods of an engine, and a broad, good-natured face.  He is one of those beings who may be aptly termed “machines,” a patient, plodding, ox-like creature who takes to the most irksome labor as a flail takes to the sheafs on the threshing-floor.  Work was his element, and nothing, it would seem, could tire or overcome those indurated muscles and vice-like nerves.  The only appellation with which he was ever known to be honored was that of “Teddy.”

Near the center of the canoe, which was of goodly size and straight, upon a bed of blankets, sat the wife of the young man in the stern.  A glance would have dissipated the slightest suspicion of her being anything other than a willing voyager upon the river.  There was the kindling eye and glowing cheek, the eager look that flitted hither and yon, and the buoyant feeling manifest in every movement, all of which expressed more of enthusiasm than of willingness merely.  Her constant questions to her husband or Teddy, kept up a continual run of conversation, which was now, for the first time, momentarily interrupted by the occurrence to which we have alluded.

At the moment we introduce them the young man was holding his paddle stationary and gazing off toward his right, where the splash in the water denoted the fall of the third stone.  His face wore an expression of puzzled surprise, mingled with which was a look of displeasure, as if he were “put out” at this manifestation.  His eyes were fixed with a keen, searching gaze upon the river-bank, expecting the appearance of something more.