“We know it,” said Henry.  “In fact, we’ve seen some of them not so long since, though none of them saw us.  There are big doings afoot, Paul, and we must have our part in them.”

“Should we go back to the island, then?”

“For the present, yes.  We need a base, and the island is safest and best.”

The five got cautiously into the canoe, disposing their weight carefully, and Shif’less Sol, who had taken the paddle from Paul, raised it for the first sweep.  But it did not come down into the water.  Instead, he stopped it in its fall, and he and all the others listened.  The same splash that Jim Hart thought he had heard came now to their ears, and it was repeated.  Paul knew that it was made by paddles sweeping through water, and it was coming nearer.

“Push back into the bushes,” whispered Henry.

They gently shoved the canoe far among the bushes in the shallow water, and waited.  They were completely hidden, but even if seen they could spring instantly to the land.  They waited, and the splashing steadily grew louder.  Paul felt the pressure of Henry’s hand on his arm, and he looked with all his eyes.  The Miami navy was abroad that night!  A canoe, a long one with seven or eight warriors in it, was abreast of them, and behind it came five others.  They were not twenty yards away, and Paul, in fancy at least, saw the savage eyes and the painted faces.  What had brought them out on the lake, what suspicion or precaution, Paul never knew, but there they were.  All were brave hearts in the hidden canoe, but they held their breath while that silent file passed by.  Then, when the last had gone and was lost in the darkness, they pushed out a little and listened, with all the keenness of forest-bred ears.  Hearing no splash, they paddled in a straight course for the haunted island.

“I think they’ve gone toward the north end of the lake, and as they are likely to keep on their way, now is our time,” said Henry.

They pushed farther into the lake, Ross and Shif’less Sol now handling the paddles with wonderful dexterity.  They went very slowly, not wishing to make the faintest splash, and meanwhile the darkness thickened and deepened again.  It felt very damp to the face, and Paul saw now that fog from the rain of the day was mingled with it.  They could not see the faintest outline of the island, but held their course from memory.

They had been out about ten minutes when Ross and Sol, as if by simultaneous impulse, ceased paddling, and Henry whispered; “Don’t anybody make any noise; it’s for our lives!”

They heard that faint splash, which Paul had learned to hate, coming back.  The Miami navy, from some unknown cause, had turned in its course.  How Paul blessed the thick, fog-charged darkness!

“It’s all chance now,” whispered Henry, ever so low, and Paul understood.

Then they held their breath, and the Miami canoes steadily drew nearer.  Would they come directly upon the white canoe or would they pass?  They passed, but they passed so near that Paul could hear the Indians in the boats talking to each other.  He also heard his heart beating in his body as the invisible file went by, and the loud beat did not cease until no more splashing of the paddles was heard.