At this juncture the Pah Utah was observed walking slowly toward them, his long blanket grasped at the breast by his left hand, while his right was free. As soon as he came up he pointed at the canoes and muttered something.
"What does he mean?" asked Elwood.
"Terror understands him better than we do," replied Howard, as the Newfoundland sprung into the larger boat and nestled down near the stern.
Our friends were not long in imitating the action of the dog. Tim made as if to step into the Indian's boat, but he motioned him back, and took his seat in the front of the larger canoe. The savage now produced a cord, probably the tendon of some wild animal, with which he speedily fastened the prow of the larger canoe to the stem of his own.
This done he turned the head down stream and began using his paddle with the same wonderful dexterity he had displayed during the afternoon. The boys watched and admired his skill for a long time. The faint moon barely revealed the shores on either hand, stretching away in misty gloom, while all before and behind them was darkness.
The muscular arms of Shasta appeared to be as tireless as the piston-rods of an engine, and at last our friends grow weary of watching him. The boys became drowsy, and they finally lay down in the bottom of the boat, with their blanket over them, and went to sleep.
In the course of an hour Tim did the same, and the Pah Utah was this left alone to ply the canoe, the Newfoundland now and then raising his head and looking over the edge as if to satisfy himself that all was right.
Once near the middle of the night Elwood awoke, and pushing his blanket from his face, raised himself on his elbow and looked around. The same picture met his eye—the dark-hued Shasta, his long hair streaming over his shoulders, the blanket down to his waist, and his bronzed arms working with the silence, skill and regularity of a perfect machine.