“Come, bear a hand, Arrowhead,” said the Sergeant, who stood on the gunwale overlooking the movements of the two, which were proceeding too slowly for the impatience of a drowsy man; “it is getting late; and we soldiers have such a thing as reveille —­ early to bed and early to rise.”

“Arrowhead is coming,” was the answer, as the Tuscarora stepped towards the head of his canoe.

One blow of his keen knife severed the rope which held the boat, and then the cutter glanced ahead, leaving the light bubble of bark, which instantly lost its way, almost stationary.  So suddenly and dexterously was this manoeuvre performed, that the canoe was on the lee quarter of the Scud before the Sergeant was aware of the artifice, and quite in her wake ere he had time to announce it to his companions.

“Hard-a-lee!” shouted Jasper, letting fly the jib-sheet with his own hands, when the cutter came swiftly up to the breeze, with all her canvas flapping, or was running into the wind’s eye, as seamen term it, until the light craft was a hundred feet to windward of her former position.  Quick and dexterous as was this movement, and ready as had been the expedient, it was not quicker or more ready than that of the Tuscarora.  With an intelligence that denoted some familiarity with vessels, he had seized his paddle and was already skimming the water, aided by the efforts of his wife.  The direction he took was south-westerly, or on a line that led him equally towards the wind and the shore, while it also kept him so far aloof from the cutter as to avoid the danger of the latter falling on board of him when she filled on the other tack.  Swiftly as the Scud had shot into the wind, and far as she had forced ahead, Jasper knew it was necessary to cast her ere she had lost all her way; and it was not two minutes from the time the helm had been put down before the lively little craft was aback forward, and rapidly falling off, in order to allow her sails to fill on the opposite tack.

“He will escape!” said Jasper the instant he caught a glimpse of the relative bearings of the cutter and the canoe.  “The cunning knave is paddling dead to windward, and the Scud can never overtake him!”

“You have a canoe!” exclaimed the Sergeant, manifesting the eagerness of a boy to join in the pursuit; “let us launch it, and give chase!”

“It will be useless.  If Pathfinder had been on deck, there might have been a chance; but there is none now.  To launch the canoe would have taken three or four minutes, and the time lost would be sufficient for the purposes of Arrowhead.”