“Then, Tayoga, we must take the perilous chance and swim for the canoe.”

“It is so, Dagaeoga.”

Both were splendid swimmers, even with their clothes on, and, wading out until the water was above their waists, they began to swim with strong and steady strokes toward the middle of the lake, following with exactness the course of the wind.  All the time they sought with anxious eyes through the dusk for a darker shadow that might be the canoe.  The wind rose rapidly, and now and then the crest of a wave dashed over them.  Less expert swimmers would have sunk, but their muscles were hardened by years of forest life—­all Robert’s strength had come back to him—­and an immense vitality made the love of life overwhelming in them.  They fought with all the powers of mind and body for the single chance of overtaking the canoe.

“I hope you see it, Tayoga,” said Robert.

“Not yet,” replied the Onondaga.  “The darkness is heavy over the lake, and the mists and vapors, rising from the water, increase it.”

“It was a fine canoe, Tayoga, and it holds our rifles, our ammunition, our deer, my buffalo robe, and all our precious belongings.  We have to find it.”

“It is so, Dagaeoga.  We have no other choice.  We truly swim for life.  One could pray at this time to have all the powers of a great fish.  Do you see anything behind us?”

Robert twisted his head and looked over his shoulder.

“I see no pursuit,” he replied.  “I cannot even see the shore, as the mists and vapors have settled down between.  In a sense we’re out at sea, Tayoga.”

“And Ganoatohale is large.  The canoe, too, is afloat upon its bosom and is, as you say, out at sea.  We and it must meet or we are lost.  Are you weary, Dagaeoga?”

“Not yet.  I can still swim for quite a while.”

“Then float a little, and we can take the exact course of the wind again.  The canoe, of course, will continue to go the way the wind goes.”

“Unless it’s deflected by currents which do not always follow the wind.”

“I do not notice any current, and to follow the wind is our only hope.  The mists and vapors will hide the canoe from us until we are very close to it”

“And you may thank Tododaho that they will hide something else also.  Unless I make a great mistake, Tayoga, I hear the swish of paddles.”

“You make no mistake, Dagaeoga.  I too hear paddles, ten, a dozen, or more of them.  It is the fleet of Tandakora coming back and it will soon be passing between us and the shore.  Truly we may be thankful, as you say, for the mists and vapors which, while they hide the canoe from us, also hide us from our enemies.”

“I shall lie flat upon my back and float, and I’ll blend with the water.”

“It is a wise plan, Dagaeoga.  So shall I. Then Tandakora himself would not see us, even if he passed within twenty feet of us.”

“He is passing now, and I can see the outlines of their boats.”