“Do you see them?” asked Robert.

“Yes, and it’s a fleet,” replied Willet.  “They are lighting up the lake with their bonfires, and their canoes are coming south to drive us into the open.  There’s generalship in this.  I think St. Luc is surely in command.”

The hunter expressed frank admiration.  Often, in the long duel between them and the redoubtable French leader, he paid tribute to the valor and skill of St. Luc.  Like Robert, he never felt any hostility toward him.  There was nothing small about Willet, and he had abundant esteem for a gallant foe.

“It’s time now to run for it again,” he said, “and it’s important to keep out of their sight.”

“I think it will be better for us to swim,” said Tayoga, “and let the canoe carry our weapons and ammunition.”

“And for us to hide behind it as we’ve done before.  You’re right, lad.  The canoe is low and does not make much of a blur upon the lake, but if we are sitting upright in it we can be much more easily seen.  Now, quick’s the word!”

They took off all their outer clothing and moccasins, putting the garments and their weapons into the little craft, and, sinking into the water behind it, pushed out from the overhanging boughs.  It was a wise precaution.  When they reached the long open stretch of water, Robert felt that the glow from the nearest bonfire was directly upon them, although he knew that his fancy made the light much stronger than it really was.

The canoe still merged with the color of the waves which were now running freely, and, as the three swam with powerful strokes sending it swiftly ahead of them, Robert was hopeful that they would reach the next island, unseen.

The distance seemed to lengthen and grow interminable, and their pace, although rapid, was to Robert like that of a snail.  Yet the longest journey must come to an end.  The new island rose at last before them, larger than the others but like the rest covered throughout with heavy forest.

They were almost in its shelter, when a faint cry came from the lofty cliff on the west.  It was a low, whining sound, very distant, but singularly penetrating, a sinister note with which Robert was familiar, the Indian war whoop.  He recognized it, and understood its significance.  Warriors had seen the canoe and knew that it marked the flight of the three.

“What do you think we’d better do?” he said.

“We’ll stop for a moment or two at the island and take a look around us,” replied Willet.

They moored the canoe, and waded to the shore.  Far behind them was the Indian fleet, about twenty canoes, coming in the formation of an arrow, while the bonfires on the cliffs towered toward the sky.  A rising wind swept the waves down and they crumbled one after another, as they broke upon the island.

“It looks like a trap with us inside of it,” said the hunter.  “That shout meant that they’ve seen our canoe, as you lads know.  Warriors have already gone below to head us off, and maybe they’ve got another fleet, which, answering their signals, will come up from the south, shutting us between two forces.”