“We are in their trap,” admitted Robert, “but we can break out of it.  We’ve been in traps before, but none of them ever held us.”

“So we can, lad.  I didn’t mean to be discouraging.  I was just stating the situation as it now is.  We’re a long way from being taken.”

“The path has been opened to us,” said the Onondaga.

“What do you mean?” asked Robert.

“Lo, Dagaeoga, the wind grows strong, and it sweeps toward the south the way we were going.”

“I hear, Tayoga, but I don’t understand.”

“We will send the canoe with wind and waves, but we will stay here.”

“Put ’em on a false scent!” exclaimed the hunter.  “It’s a big risk, but it’s the only thing to be done.  As the bird saved Robert so the wind may save us!  The waves are running pretty fast toward the south now and the canoe will ride ’em like a thing of life.  They’re too far away to tell whether we are in it.”

It was a daring thing to do but Robert too felt that it must be done, and they did not delay in the doing of it.  They took out their clothing, weapons, and ammunition, Willet gave the canoe a mighty shove, and it sailed gallantly southward on the crest of the high waves.

“I feel as if I were saying good-by to a faithful friend,” said Robert.

“It’s more than a friend,” said Willet.  “It’s an ally that will draw the enemy after it, and leave us here in safety.”

“If Manitou so wills it,” said Tayoga.  “It is for him to say whether the men of Tandakora will pass us by.  But the canoe is truly alive, Dagaeoga.  It skims over the lake like a great bird.  If it has a spirit in it, and I do not know that it has not, it guards us, and means to lead away our enemy in pursuit of it.”

Quick to receive impressions, Robert also clothed the canoe with life and a soul, a soul wholly friendly to the three, who, now stooping down on the island, amid the foliage, watched the action of the little craft which seemed, in truth, to be guided by reason.

“Now it pauses a little,” said Robert.  “It’s beckoning to the Indian fleet to follow.”

“It is because it hangs on the top of a wave that is about to break,” said Willet.  “Often you see waves hesitate that way just before they crumble.”

“I prefer to believe with Dagaeoga,” said the Onondaga.  “The canoe is our ally, and, knowing that we want the warriors to pass us, it lingers a bit to call them on.”

“It may be as you say,” said the hunter, “I’m not one to disturb the faith of anybody.  If the canoe is alive, as you think, then—­it is alive and all the better for us.”

“Spirits go into the bodies of inanimate things,” persisted the red youth, “and make them alive for a while.  All the people of the Hodenosaunee have known that for centuries.”

“The canoe hesitates and beckons again,” said Robert, “and, as sure as we are here, the skies have turned somewhat darker.  The warriors in the fleet or on the shore cannot possibly tell the canoe is empty.”