When day broke, Nat rose and went down to the water to see that, in landing, they had left no mark upon the shore, which might betray them to the eye of a passing redskin.  Going down on his hands and knees, he obliterated every sign of their footprints, raised the herbage upon which they had trodden, cut short to the ground such stalks as they had bruised or broken in their passage, and then, when confident that all was safe, he returned to his camp.  When it again became dark, the canoe was carried down and replaced in the water, and they continued their passage.  James had, at Nat’s request, laid by his paddle.

“You paddle wonderfully well, captain.  I don’t say you don’t; but for a delicate piece of work like this, one can’t be too careful.  It ain’t often I can hear your paddle dip in the water, not once in a hundred times, but then, you see, that once might cost us our scalps.  We have got to go along as silent as a duck swimming.  Speed ain’t no object, for we shall be miles down Lake Champlain before daylight; but, if the French know their business, they will have half a dozen canoes in these narrows, to prevent us scouting on Lake Champlain; and, you see, they have got all the advantage of us, ’cause they’ve got just to lie quiet and listen, and we have got to row on.  As far as seeing goes, I can make them out as soon as they can make us out; but they can hear us, while they won’t give our ears a chance.

“I tell you, captain, I don’t expect to get through this narrows without a chase for it.  If it come to running, of course you will take your paddle again, and we three can show our heels to any canoe on the lakes, perviding of course as it’s only a starn chase.  If there are three or four of them, then I don’t say as it won’t be a close thing.”

James accordingly lay quietly back in the boat, while his companions took the paddles.  It was not necessary for him either to look out, or to listen, for he knew that his companions’ eyes and ears were quicker than his own.  It had been agreed, before starting, that they should go along close to the trees, on the left-hand side of the passage, because the keenest lookout would be kept on the right-hand side, as that would naturally be chosen by any boat going up, as being farthest from the French fort.

“There is no fear, whatever, of our being seen from the land,” Nat had said.  “The redskins would know that so well that they wouldn’t trouble to look out.  It’s only canoes we have got to be afraid of, and, as to them, it’s just a chance.  They might see us out in the light waters, in the middle; but, under the trees, they can’t make us out thirty yards off.  They will be lying there, quiet, if they are there at all, and we shall either get past them safe, or we shall pretty nigh run into them.  It’s just chance, and there’s nothing to do for it but to paddle as noiselessly as fish, and trust to our luck.”

Having crossed the lake to the left shore, they entered the narrows.  The paddles were dipped so quietly into the water, that even James could scarcely hear their sound.  Every few strokes the scouts stopped paddling altogether, and sat listening intently.  They were keeping close to the trees, so close that, at times, it seemed to James that, by stretching out his hands, he could touch the bushes.