Daganoweda called from the north end of the swimming line, and the word was passed from Mohawk and ranger until Willet at the south end replied.  All were there.  Not a man, white or red, had dropped out, and not one would.

“In a minute or two the lightning will show the way,” said Tayoga.

As the last word left his lips a flaming sword blazed across the lake, and disclosed the island, wooded and black, not more than two hundred yards distant, and the dim shadows of canoes and boats huddled against the bank.  Then it was gone and the blackness, thicker and heavier than ever, settled down over island, lake and mountain.  But Robert, Tayoga and all the others had seen the prize they were seeking, and their course lay plain before them now.

Robert’s emotion was so intense and his mind was concentrated so powerfully upon the object ahead that he was scarcely conscious of the fact that he was swimming.  An expert in the water, he kept afloat without apparent effort, and the fact that he was one of fifty all doing the same thing gave him additional strength and skill.  The lightning flashed again, blue now, almost a bar of violet across the sky, tinting the waters of the lake with the same hue, and he caught another glimpse of the Indian fleet drawn up against the shore, and of the Indian sentinels, some sitting in the boats, and others standing on the land.

Then the wind strengthened, and he felt the rain upon his face.  It was a curious result, but he sank a little deeper in the water to shelter himself from the storm.  Light waves ran upon the surface of the lake, and his body lifted with them.  The fleet could not be more than a hundred yards away now, and his heart began to throb hard with the thought of imminent action.  Yet he knew that he was in a mystic and unreal world.  His singular position, the night, the coming of the storm with its swift alternations of light and blackness, heated his blood and imagination until he saw many things that were not, and did not see some that were.  He saw a triumph and the capture of the Indian fleet, and in his eager anticipation he failed to see the dangers just ahead.

The air grew much colder and the rain beat upon his face like hail.  The thunder which had rumbled almost incessantly, like a mighty groaning, now ceased entirely, and the last flash of lightning burned across the lake.  It showed the fleet of the foe not more than fifty yards away now, and, so far as Robert could tell, the Indian sentinels had yet taken no alarm.  Three were crouched in the boats with their blankets drawn about their shoulders to protect them from the cold rain, and the four who had been standing on the land were huddled under the trees with their blankets wrapped about their bodies also.

“Do you think we’ll really reach the fleet unobstructed?” whispered Robert to Tayoga.

“It does not seem possible,” the Onondaga whispered back.  “The favor of Areskoui is great to us, but the miracle he works in our behalf could hardly go so far.  Now the word comes from both Daganoweda and the Great Bear, and we swim faster.  The rain, too, grows and it drives in sheets, but it is well for us that it does so.  Rifles and muskets cannot be used much in the storm, but our knives and tomahawks can.  Perhaps this rain is only one more help that Areskoui has sent to us.”