It was the sight of Obadiah’s cabin that brought his caution back.  He came upon it so suddenly that an exclamation of surprise fell unguarded from his lips.  There was no light to betray life within.  He tried the door and found it locked.  He peered in at the windows, listened, and knocked, and at last concealed himself near the path, confident that the little old councilor was still at St. James.  For an hour he waited.  From the rear of Obadiah’s home a narrow footway led toward the lake and Nathaniel followed it, now as warily as an animal in search of prey.  For half a mile it took him through the forest and ended at the white sands of the beach.  In neither direction could Nathaniel see a light, and keeping close in the shadows of the trees he made his way slowly toward St. James.  He had gone but a short distance when he saw a house directly ahead of him, a single gleam of light from a small window telling him that it was inhabited and that its tenants were at home.  He circled down close to the water looking for a boat.  His heart leaped with sudden exultation when he saw a small skiff drawn upon the beach and his joy was doubled at finding the oars still in the locks.  It took him but a moment to shove the light craft into the sea and a minute later he was rowing swiftly away from the land.

Nathaniel was certain that by this time Neil had abandoned his search for the captured Typhoon and was probably paddling in the direction of St. James.  With the hope of intercepting him he pulled an eighth of a mile from the shore and rowed slowly toward the head of the island.  There was no moon, but countless stars glowed in a clear sky and upon the open lake Nathaniel could see for a considerable distance about him.  For another hour he rowed back and forth and then beached his boat within a dozen rods of the path that came down from Obadiah’s.

It was ten o’clock.  Two more hours!  He had tried to suppress his excitement, his apprehensions, his eagerness, but now as he went back into the darkness of the forest they burst out anew.  What if Marion should not keep the tryst?  He thought of the spies whom Neil had said guarded the girl’s home—­and of Obadiah.  Could he trust the old councilor?  Should he confide his plot to him and ask his assistance?  As the minutes passed and these thoughts recurred again and again in his brain he could not keep the nervousness from growing within him.  He was sure now that he would have to fight his battle without Neil.  He saw the necessity of coolness, of judgment, and he began to demand these things of himself, struggling sternly against those symptoms of weakness which had replaced his confidence of a short time before.  Gradually he fought himself back into his old faith.  He would save Marion—­without Neil, without Obadiah.  If Marion did not come to him by midnight it would be because of the guards against whom Neil had warned him, and he would go to her.  In some way he would get her to the boat, even if he had to fight his way through Arbor Croche’s men.