“Aye, I’m still able to handle the paddle.  I suppose we’d better seek a landing.  We can’t stay out in the lake forever.  Tayoga, you’ve taken the part of Providence itself.  Now did it occur to you in your infinite wisdom, while you were storing paddles, weapons and ammunition in this boat, to store food also?”

The Onondaga’s smile was wide and satisfying.

“I thought of that, too, Dagaeoga,” he replied, “because I knew our journey, if we should be so fortunate as to have a journey, would take us out on the lake, and I knew, also, that no matter how many hardships and dangers Dagaeoga might pass through, the time would come when he would be hungry.  It is always so with Dagaeoga.”

He took a heavy knapsack from the bottom of the canoe and opened it.

“It is a French knapsack,” he said, “and it contains both bread and meat, which we will enjoy.”

They ate in great content, and their spirits rose to an extraordinary degree, though Tayoga regretted the absence of clothing which his disguise had made necessary.  Having been educated with white lads, and having associated with white people so much, he was usually clad as completely as they, either in their fashion or in his own full Indian costume.

“My infinite wisdom was not so infinite that it told me to take a blanket,” he said, “and the wind coming down from the Canadian shore is growing cold.”

“I’m surprised to hear you speak of such trifles as that, Tayoga, when we’ve been dealing with affairs of life and death.”

“We are cold or we are warm, Dagaeoga, and peril and suffering do not alter it.  But lo! the wind is bringing the great mists with it, and we will escape in them.”

They turned the canoe toward a point far to the east of the Indian camp and began to paddle, not hastily but with long, slow, easy strokes that sent the canoe over the water at a great rate.  The fogs and vapors were thick and close about them, but Tayoga knew the direction.  Robert asked him if he had heard of Willet, and the Onondaga said he had not seen him, but he had learned from a Mohawk runner that the Great Bear had reached Waraiyageh with the news of St. Luc’s prospective advance, and Tayoga had also contrived to get news through to him that he was lying in the forest, waiting a chance to effect the rescue of Robert.

Toward morning they landed on a shore, clothed in deep and primeval forest, and with reluctance abandoned their canoe.

“It is an Abenaki craft,” said Tayoga.  “It is made well, it has served us well, and we will treat it well.”

Instead of leaving it on the lake to the mercy of storms they drew it into some bushes at the mouth of a small creek, where it would stay securely, and probably serve some day some chance traveler.  Then they plunged into the deep forest, but when they saw a smoke Robert remained hidden while Tayoga went on, but with the intention of returning.