Relying upon their surpassing skill with the paddle, they chose a most dangerous course, so far as the risk of wreck was concerned, but they intended that the long canoe should pass them in the dusk, and then they would land in the rear.  The waves were higher as they went toward the center of the lake, but they were in no danger of being dashed against the cliffs, and superb work with the paddles kept them from being swamped.  Luckily the darkness endured, and, as they were able to catch through it no glimpse of the long canoe, they had the certainty of being invisible themselves.

“Why not go all the way across to the eastern shore?” shouted Robert.  “We may find anchorage there, and we’d be safe from both the Hurons and the storm!”

“Dagaeoga is right,” said Tayoga.

“Well spoken!” said Willet.  “Do the best work you ever did with the paddles, or we’ll find the bottom of the lake instead of the eastern shore!”

But skill, strength and quickness of eye carried them in safety across the lake, and they found a shore of sufficient slope for them to land and lift the canoe after them, carrying it back at least half a mile, and not coming to rest until they reached the crest of a high hill, wooded densely.  They put the canoe there among the bushes and sank down behind it, exhausted.  The rifles and precious ammunition, wrapped tightly in the folds of their blankets, had been kept dry, but they were wet to the bone themselves and now, that their muscles were relaxed, the cold struck in.  The three, despite their weariness, began to exercise again vigorously, and kept it up until the rain ceased.

Then the second storm stopped as suddenly as the first had departed, the darkness went away, and the great lake stood out, blue and magnificent, in the light.  Far to the south moved the long canoe, a mere black dot in the water.  Tayoga laughed in his throat.

“They rage and seek us in vain,” he said.  “They will continue pursuing us to the south.  They do not know that Manitou sent the second storm especially to cover us up with a darkness in which we might escape.”

“It’s a good belief, Tayoga,” said Willet, “and as Manitou arranged that we should elude them he is not likely to bring them back into our path.  That being the case I’m going to dry my clothes.”

“So will I,” said Robert, and the Onondaga nodded his own concurrence.  They took off their garments, wrung the water out of them and hung them on the bushes to dry, a task soon to be accomplished by the sun that now came out hot and bright.  Meanwhile they debated their further course.

“The long canoe still goes south,” said Tayoga.  “It is now many miles away, hunting for us.  Perhaps since they cannot find us, the Hurons will conclude that the storm sank us in the lake!”

“But they will hunt along the shore a long time,” said Willet.  “They’re nothing but a tiny speck now, and in a quarter of an hour they’ll be out of sight altogether.  Suppose we cross the lake behind them—­I think I see a cove down there on the western side—­take the canoe with us and wait until they go back again.”