Robert, awed by time and circumstance, shared fully the belief of Tayoga that their escape was a miracle.  His nature contained much that was devout and spiritual and he, too, with his impressionable imagination, peopled earth and air almost unconsciously with spirits, good and bad.  The good and bad often fought together, and sometimes the good prevailed as they had just done.  There lay in the canoe the paddles, which they had lifted out of the water in their surprise at the sudden attack, and beside them were the rifles and everything else they needed.

They were content to let the canoe travel its own course for a long time, and that course was definite and certain, as if guided by the hand of man.  The wind always carried it toward the northeast and farther and farther away from the fleet of Tandakora.  But they took off their clothing, wrung out as much water as they could, and wrapped themselves in the dry blankets from their packs.  Robert’s spirits, stimulated by the reaction, bubbled up in a wonderful manner.

“We’ll see no more of Tandakora for a long time, at least,” he exclaimed, “and now, ho! for our wonderful voyage!”

They drew the wet charges from their pistols and reloaded them, they polished anew their hatchets and knives and then, these tasks done, they still sat for a long time in the canoe, idle and content.  Their little boat needed no help or guidance from their hands.  That favoring wind always carried it away from their enemies and in the direction in which they wished it to go.  And yet the wind did not blow away the mists and vapors, that grew thicker and thicker around them, until they could not see twenty feet away.

Robert’s feeling that they were protected, his sense of the spiritual and mystic, grew, and he saw that the mind of Tayoga was under the same spell.  The waters of the lake were friendly now.  As they lapped around the canoe they made a soothing sound, and the wind that guided and propelled them sang a low but pleasant song.

“We are in the arms of Tododaho,” said Tayoga in a reverential tone, “and Hayowentha, the great Mohawk, also looks on and smiles.  What need for us to strive when the gods themselves take us in their keeping?”

Hours passed before they spoke again.  They had been at the uttermost verge of exhaustion when they climbed into the canoe, and perhaps physical weakness had made their minds more receptive to the belief that they were in hands mightier than their own, but even as strength came back the conviction remained in all its primitive force.  Warmth returned to their bodies, wrapped in the blankets, and they felt an immense peace.  Midnight passed and the boat bore steadily on with its two silent occupants.

CHAPTER XII

THE MARVELOUS TRAILER

“Where are we, Tayoga?”

Robert stirred from a doze and the words were involuntary.  He looked upon water, covered with mists and vapors, and the driving wind was still behind them.