There was but little talk in the woods, and the matter having
been settled, it did not enter the mind either of Peter or of the
Indian to say a word of adieu to their comrades. Harold imitated
their example, but gave a nod and a smile to Jake as he started.
Half an hour's tramp took them to the shore of the lake. Here they
halted for a minute while the Indian closely examined the locality.
With the wonderful power of making their way straight through the
forest to the required spot, which seems to be almost an instinct
among Indians, Deer Tail had struck the lake within two hundred yards
of the point which he aimed at. He led the way along the shore until
he came to a spot where a great maple had fallen into the lake; here
he turned into the forest again, and in fifty yards came to a clump
of bushes; these he pushed aside and pointed to a canoe which was
lying hidden among them. Peter joined him, the two lifted the boat
out, placed it on their shoulders, and carried it to the lake. There
were three paddles in it. Peter motioned Harold to take his place in
the stern and steer, while he and the Indian knelt forward and put
their paddles in the water.
"Keep her along on the right shore of the lake, about fifty yards
from the trees. There's no fear of anyone lurking about near this
end."
The canoe was light and well made, and darted quickly over the water
under the strokes of the two paddlers. It was late in the afternoon
when they started, and before they had gone many miles darkness had
fallen.
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