Paul, meanwhile, took out one of the small swords and examined it critically.

“It is certainly a fine one,” he said, “I suppose it’s what they call a Toledo blade in Spain, the finest that they make.”

“Could you do much with it, Paul?” asked Shif’less Sol.

“I could,” replied Paul confidently.  “Mr. Pennypacker served in the great French war.  He was at the taking of Quebec, and he learned the use of the sword from good masters.  He’s taught me all the tricks.”

“Maybe, then,” said Sol laughing, “you’ll have to fight Alvarez with one o’ them stickers.  Ef sech a combat is on it’ll fall to you, Paul.  The rest of us are handier with rifle an’ knife.”

“It’s never likely to happen,” said Paul.

The morning passed peacefully on, and the glory of the heavens was undimmed.  The river was a vast, murmuring stream, and the five voyagers felt that, for the present, their task was an easy one.  A single man at the oars was sufficient to keep the boat moving as fast as they wished, and the rest occupied themselves with details that might provide for a future need.

Paul brought out one of the beautiful small swords again, and fenced vigorously with an imaginary antagonist.  Jim Hart took a captured needle and thread and began to mend a rent in his attire.  Henry lifted the folded tent from the locker and looked carefully at the cloth.

“I think that with this and a pole or two we might fix up a sail if we needed it,” he said.  “We don’t know anything about sails, but we can learn by trying.”

Tom Ross was at the oars, but Shif’less Sol lay back on a locker, closed his eyes, and said: 

“Jest wake me up, when we git to New Or-lee-yuns.  I could lay here an’ sleep forever, the boat rockin’ me to sleep like a cradle.”

They saw nothing of the Spanish force, but they knew that such a flotilla could not evade them.  Having no reason to hide, the Spaniards would not seek to conceal so many boats in the flooded forest.  Hence the five felt perfectly easy on that point.  About noon they ran their own boat among the trees until they reached dry land.  Here they lighted a fire and cooked their ducks, which they found delicious, and then resumed their leisurely journey.

The afternoon was as peaceful as the morning, but it seemed to the sensitive imagination of Paul that the wilderness aspect of everything was deepening.  The great flooded river broadened until the line of water and horizon met, and Paul could easily fancy that they were floating on a boundless sea.  An uncommonly red sun was setting and here and there the bubbles were touched with fire.  Far in the west dark shadows were stealing up.

“Look,” Henry suddenly exclaimed, “I think that the Spanish have gone into camp for the night!”

He pointed down the stream and toward the western shore, where a thin spire of smoke was rising.

“It’s that, certain,” said Tom Ross, “an’ I guess we’d better make fur camp, too.”