The three hidden in the bushes had watched the Indian as well as the dusk would permit and they read his mind.  They knew that when he turned away he had gone for help and they knew equally well that it was time for the full power of the current to take effect.

“Shove it off, Tayoga,” whispered Willet, “and I think we’d better help along with some strokes of our own.”

“It is so,” said Tayoga.

Now the wandering canoe was suddenly endowed with more life and purpose, or else the current grew much swifter.  After an uneasy stay with the boughs, it left them quickly, sailed out toward the middle of the stream, and floated at great speed between banks that were growing high again.  The friendly dark was also an increasing protection to the three who were steering it.  The heavy but rainless clouds continued to gather over them, and the canoe sped on at accelerated speed in an opaque atmosphere.  A mile farther and Willet suggested that they get into the canoe and paddle with all their might.  The embarkation, a matter of delicacy and difficulty, was made with success, and then they used the paddles furiously.

The canoe, suddenly becoming a live thing, leaped forward in the water, and sped down the stream, as if it were the leader in a race.  Far behind them rose a sudden war cry, and the three laughed.

“I suppose they’ve discovered in some way that we’ve fled,” said Robert.

“That is so,” said Tayoga.

“And they’ll come down the river as fast as they can,” said Willet, “but they’ll do no more business with us.  I don’t want to brag, but you can’t find three better paddlers in the wilderness than we are, and with a mile start we ought soon to leave behind any number of warriors who have to run through the woods and follow the windings of the stream.”

“They cannot catch us now,” said Tayoga, “and I will tell them so.”

He uttered a war whoop so piercing and fierce that Robert was startled.  It cut the air like the slash of a sword, but it was a long cry, full of varied meaning.  It expressed satisfaction, triumph, a taunt for the foe, and then it died away in a sinister note like a threat for any who tried to follow.  Willet laughed under his breath.

“That’ll stir ’em, Tayoga,” he said.  “You put a little dart squarely in their hearts, and they don’t like it.  But they can squirm as much as they please, we’re out of their reach now.  Hark, they’re answering!”

They heard a cry from the savage who had besieged them, but it was followed by a long silence.  The three paddled with their utmost strength, the great muscles on their arms rising and falling with their exertions, and beads of perspiration standing out on their foreheads.

Hours passed.  Mile after mile fell behind them.  The darkness began to thin, and then the air was shot with golden beams from the rising sun.  Willet, heaving an immense sigh of relief, laid his paddle across the canoe.