“I know not, Dagaeoga,” replied the Onondaga in devout tones.  “I too have dozed for a while, and awoke to find nothing changed.  All I know is that we are yet on the bosom of Ganoatohale, and that the west wind has borne us on.  I have always loved the west wind, Dagaeoga.  Its breath is sweet on my face.  It comes from the setting sun, from the greatest of all seas that lies beyond our continent, it blows over the vast unknown plains that are trodden by the buffalo in myriads, it comes across the mighty forests of the great valley, it is loaded with all the odors and perfumes of our immense land, and now it carries us, too, to safety.”

“You talk in hexameters, Tayoga, but I think your rhapsody is justified.  I also have plenty of cause now to love the west wind.  How long do you think it will be until we feel the dawn on our faces?”

“Two hours, perhaps, but we may reach land before then.  While I cannot smell the dawn I seem to perceive the odor of the forest.  Now it grows stronger, and lo, Dagaeoga, there is another sign!  Do you not notice it?”

“No, what is it?”

“The west wind that has served us so well is dying. Gaoh, which in our language of the Hodenosaunee is the spirit of the winds, knows that we need it no more.  Surely the land is near because Gaoh after being a benevolent spirit to us so long would not desert us at the last moment.”

“I think you must be right, Tayoga, because now I also notice the strong, keen perfume of the woods, and our west wind has sunk to almost nothing.”

“Nay, Dagaeoga, it is more than that.  It has died wholly. Gaoh tells us that having brought us so near the land we can now fend for ourselves.”

The air became absolutely still, the swell ceased, the surface of the lake became as smooth as glass, and, as if swept back by a mighty, unseen hand, the mists and vapors suddenly floated away toward the east.  Tayoga and Robert uttered cries of admiration and gratitude, as a high, green shore appeared, veiled but not hidden in the dusk.

“So Tododaho has brought us safely across the waters of Ganoatohale,” said the Onondaga.

“Have you any idea of the point to which we have come?” asked Robert.

“No, but it is sufficient that we have come to the shore anywhere.  And see, Dagaeoga, the mists and vapors still hang heavily over the western half of the lake, forming an impenetrable wall that shuts us off from Tandakora and his warriors.  Truly we are for the time the favorites of the gods.”

“Even so, Tayoga, you see, too, that we have come to land just where a little river empties into the lake, and we can go on up it.”

They paddled with vigorous arms into the mouth of the stream, and did not stop until the day came.  It was a beautiful little river, the massed vegetation growing in walls of green to the very water’s edge, the songs of innumerable birds coming out of the cool gloom on either side.  Robert was enchanted.  His spirits were still at the high key to which they had been raised by the events of the night.  Both he and Tayoga had enjoyed many hours of rest in the canoe, and now they were keen and strong for the day’s work.  So, it was long after dawn when they stopped paddling, and pushed their prow into a little cove.