"What is it?"
"He wishes to ask whether we want to go a good ways!"
"You are right," replied Howard. "He doesn't know whether we are hunting in these parts, and wish to stay in the neighborhood, or whether we are hurrying home as fast as we can."
Shasta's motions and signs were imitated as nearly as possible, and he nodded his head and muttered something doubtless to signify that he was satisfied. Terror whisked into the canoe and took his position in the prow, while his three masters, if a dog can own that many, arranged themselves behind him. The tendon still united the two boats, and one sweep of Pah Utah's paddle sent the two far out into the river, where he began his work.
For a time our friends gave themselves up to the enjoyment of this pleasant motion. At each dip of the paddle, or contraction of the iron muscles of Shasta, they could feel the canoe jump forward as does a steamboat under the throbs of the mighty engine. At the same time the motion was light and airy, as if the boat were skimming over the very surface. Indeed, by shutting the eyes and feeling the light wind fanning the temples, it was easy to imagine that they were borne through the air by some great bird whose wings could be felt to pulsate beneath them.
"Look at that machinery!" exclaimed Howard. "Did you ever see anything like it? Not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon him. See how the muscles swell and ridge, and yet he doesn't swerve his body a hair's breadth to the right or left."
"He can 'paddle his own canoe,'" laughed Elwood.
"Look at those shoulders; they are perfect mountains of muscle, and those sinewy arm! His legs are fully as perfect, and I'll warrant he can run a dozen miles an hour for a whole day without getting tired. He would be a dangerous man to meet as an enemy."
"And a good one as a friend."
"Yes; I can hardly see what chances we would have had of reaching the mouth of the river without his help."