“Did you make an end of him?” asked Robert breathlessly.

“No,” replied the hunter, although his tone was one of satisfaction.  “I had to shoot when I saw the flash of his rifle, and I had only a glimpse of him.  But I saw enough to know that my bullet took him in the shoulder.  His rifle fell from his hand, and then he dropped down in the underbrush, thinking one of you might snatch up a weapon and fire.  No, I didn’t make an end of him, Robert, but I did make an end of his warfare upon us for a while.  That bullet must have gone clean through his shoulder, and for the present at least he’ll have to quit scalp hunting.  But how he must hate us!”

“Let him hate,” said Robert.  “I don’t care how much his hate increases, so long as he can’t lie in ambush for us.  It’s pretty oppressive to have an invisible death lurking around you, unable to fend it off, and never knowing when or where it will strike.”

“But we did fend it off,” said the big hunter, as he reloaded the rifle of which he had made such good use.  “And now I can see the stream widening ahead of us, with natural meadows on either side, where no enemy can lay an ambush.  Easy now, lads!  The danger has passed.  That fiend is lying in the thicket binding up his wounded shoulder as best he can, and tomorrow we’ll be in Canada.  Draw in your paddles, and I’ll take mine.  You’re entitled to a rest.  You couldn’t have done better if you had been in a race, and, after all, it was a race for life.”

Robert lifted his paddle and watched the silver bubbles fall from it into the stream.  Then he sank back in his seat, relaxing after his great effort, his breath coming at first in painful gasps, but gradually becoming long and easy.

“I’m glad we’ll be in Canada tomorrow, Dave,” he said, “because the journey has surely been most difficult.”

“Pretty thick with dangers, that’s true,” laughed the hunter, “but we’ve run past most of ’em.  The rest of the day will be easy, safe and pleasant.”

His prediction came true, their journey on the river continuing without interruption.  Two or three times they saw distant smoke rising above the forest, but they judged that it came from the camp fires of hunters, and they paid no further attention to it.  That night they took the canoe from the river once more, carrying it into the woods and sleeping beside it, and the next day they entered the mighty St. Lawrence.

“This is Canada,” said Willet.  “Farther west we claim that our territory comes to the river and that we have a share in it.  But here it’s surely French by right of long occupation.  We can reach Montreal by night, where we’ll get a bigger boat, and then we’ll go on to Quebec.  It’s a fine river, isn’t it, Robert?”

“So it is,” replied Robert, looking at the vast sheet of water, blue then under a perfectly blue sky, flowing in a mighty mass toward the sea.  Tayoga’s eyes sparkled also.  The young warrior could feel to the full the splendors of the great forests, rivers and lakes of his native land.