“The canoe on our right is coming in a little closer to us,” he whispered.  “It is a very large canoe, because it holds four paddles.  I can trace the four separate sounds.  They try to soften their strokes lest the hidden messenger whom they want to catch may hear them, but they cannot destroy the sound altogether.  Now, the one on the left is bearing in toward us also.  I think they have made a chain across the lake, and hope to keep anything from passing.”

“Can you hear those ahead of us?”

“Very slightly, and only now and then, but it is enough to tell us that they are still there.  But, Dagaeoga, we must go ahead even if they are before us; we cannot think of turning back.”

“No such thought entered my head, Tayoga.  We’ll run this gauntlet.”

“That was what I knew you would say.  The canoes from both right and left still approach.  I think they carry on a patrol in the fog, and move back and forth, always keeping in touch.  Now, we must go forward a little, or they will be upon us, but be ever so gentle with the paddle, Dagaeoga.  That is it!  We make so little sound that it is no sound at all, and they cannot hear us.  Now, we are well beyond them, and the two canoes are meeting in the fog.  The men in them talk together.  You hear them very well yourself, Dagaeoga.  Their exact words do not come to our ears, but we know they are telling one another that no messenger from the beleaguered camp has yet passed.  Now, they part and go back on their beat.  We can afford to forget them, Dagaeoga, and think of those ahead.  We still have the real gauntlet to run.  Be very gentle with the paddle again.

“I hear the canoes ahead of us very clearly now.  One of them is large also with four paddles in it, and two of the men are Frenchmen.  I cannot understand what they say, but I hear the French accent; the sound is not at all like that the warriors make.  One of the Frenchmen is giving instructions, as I can tell by his tone of command, and I think the canoes are going to spread out more.  Yes, they are moving away to both right and left.  They must feel sure that we are here somewhere in the fog, trying to get by them, but the big canoe with the Frenchmen in it keeps its place.  Bear a little to the left, Dagaeoga, and we can pass it unseen.”

It was the most delicate of tasks to paddle the canoe, and cause scarcely a ripple in the water, but they were so skillful they were able to do it, and make no sound that Robert himself could hear.  Although his nerves were steady his excitement was intense.  A situation so extraordinary put every power of his imagination into play.  His fancy fairly peopled the water with hostile canoes; they were in a triple ring about him and Tayoga.  All his pulses were beating hard, yet his will, as usual, was master of his nerves, and the hand that held the paddle never shook.

“A canoe on the outer line, and from the left, is now bearing in toward us,” whispered Tayoga.