The youths separated, and the fishing continued steadily, until each had a mess of ten or a dozen fish to his credit. The perch were all of good size, so the load to carry back to the fort would be no light one.
“Let us go down the shore and see if we can’t strike another trout hole,” said Dave. “I’d like to bring up one, even if he didn’t match yours.”
They proceeded along the lake shore, and soon reached another shady spot. Here they found two small trout, which were both landed by Dave, Henry in the meantime hunting in the forest and bringing out some sassafras and birch, which both began to munch as a relish.
“What a good trading-post one could establish up here,” observed Henry. “The game——” He broke off short. “What do you see?”
Dave was gazing out on the lake, and now he climbed on the rock to get a better view.
“It’s a canoe,” said Dave slowly. “And unless I am mistaken there are two or three Indians in it.”
“Some of Sir William’s followers most likely. Are they coming this way?”
“They are not paddling at all. They seem to be sleeping.”
“Sleeping? That’s queer.” Henry climbed up beside his cousin and gave an equally searching look. “I don’t believe they are sleeping at all, Dave. Those Indians are either dead or else shamming death.”
“Why should they come here shamming death, Henry?”