“Two rifle shots,” said the hunter, “and when it becomes one, as it surely will, I’ll have to give ’em a hint with a bullet.”

“It’s possible,"’ said Robert, “that a third power will intervene.”

“What do you mean?” asked Willet.

“The storm’s coming back.  Look up!”

It was true.  The sky was darkening again, and the clouds were gathering fast over the mountains on the west.  Already lightning was quivering along the slopes, and the forest was beginning to rock with the wind.  The air rapidly grew heavier and darker.  Their own canoe was quivering, and Robert saw that the long canoe was rising and falling with the waves.

“Looks as if it might be a question of skill with the paddles rather than with the rifles,” said Willet tersely.

“But they are still gaining,” said Tayoga, “even though the water is so rough.”

“Aye,” said Willet, “and unless the storm bursts in full power they’ll soon be within rifle shot.”

He watched with occasional keen backward looks, and in a few minutes he snatched up his rifle, took a quick aim and fired.  The foremost man in the long canoe threw up his arms, and fell sideways into the water.  The canoe stopped entirely for a moment or two, but then the others, uttering a long, fierce yell of rage, bent to their paddles with a renewed effort.  The three had made a considerable gain during their temporary check, but it could not last long.  Willet again looked for a chance to land, but the cliffs rose above them sheer and impossible.

“We are in the hands of Manitou,” said Tayoga, gravely.  “He will save us.  Look, how the storm gathers!  Perhaps it was sent back to help us.”

The Onondaga spoke with the utmost earnestness.  It was not often that a storm returned so quickly, and accepting the belief that Manitou intervened in the affairs of earth, he felt that the second convulsion of nature was for their benefit.  Owing to the great roughness of the water their speed now decreased, but not more than that of the long canoe, the rising wind compelling them to use their paddles mostly for steadiness.  The spray was driven like sleet in their faces, and they were soon wet through and through, but they covered the rifles and ammunition with their blankets, knowing that when the storm passed they would be helpless unless they were kept dry.

The Hurons fired a few shots, all of which fell short or wide, and then settled down with all their numbers to the management of their canoe, which was tossing dangerously.  Robert noticed their figures were growing dim, and then, as the storm struck with full violence for the second time, the darkness came down and hid them.

“Now,” shouted Willet, as the wind whistled and screamed in their ears, “we’ll make for the middle of the lake!”