The Apaches behaved so cleverly in bringing the tree trunks to the island, and had chosen their position so well, that when they set the trees in motion again they almost immediately struck the current, and began to follow the river gently, drifting imperceptibly in the direction of the colony where they wished to land.
Still this navigation, so essentially eccentric, offered grave inconveniences and even serious dangers to those who undertook it. The Indians, left without paddles on the trees, were obliged to follow the stream, only succeeding in holding on by extraordinary efforts. Like all wood floating at the mercy of the waves, the trees continually revolved, compelling those holding on to them to employ all their strength and skill, lest they might be submerged at every moment. There was another difficulty, too: it was absolutely necessary to keep in the water, so as to give the trees the proper direction and make them reach the colony, instead of following the current in the middle of the stream. A further inconvenience, not the least grave of all, was that the trees on which the Apaches were mounted met others as they floated along, against which they struck, or their branches became so interlaced that it was impossible to part them, and they had to be taken on as well; so that, at the end of half an hour, an immense raft was formed, which appeared to occupy the entire width of the river.
The Indians are obstinate: when they have undertaken an expedition they never give it up till it is irrevocably proved to them that success is impossible. This happened on the present occasion; several men were drowned, others wounded so severely that they were compelled to regain the bank against their will. The others, however, held on; and, encouraged by their chief, who did not cease addressing them, they continued to descend the river.
Long before the island from which they set out had disappeared behind them in the windings formed by the irregular course of the river; the point on which the buildings of the colony stood appeared but a short way ahead, when the Black Bear, who was at the head of the party, and whose piercing eye incessantly surveyed the scene around, noticed a canoe a few yards ahead attached to a dead stump, gracefully dancing on the water.
This canoe at once appeared suspicious to the cautious Indian. It did not seem natural to him that, at such an advanced hour of the night, any boat should be thus tied up in the river: but the Black Bear was a man of prompt decision, whom nothing embarrassed, and who rapidly formed his plans. After carefully examining this, mysterious canoe, still stationary before him, he stooped over to the Little Panther, who hung on to the same tree in readiness to execute his orders, and, placing his knife between his teeth, the chief unloosed his hold and dived.
He rose again near the canoe, seized it boldly, pulled it over, and leaped in right on Cucharés' chest and seized him by the throat. This movement was executed so rapidly that the lepero could not employ his weapons, and found himself completely at the mercy of his enemy before he understood what had occurred.
"Wah!" the Indian exclaimed with surprise on recognising him. "What is my brother doing here?"
The lepero had also recognised the chief, and, without knowing why, this restored him a slight degree of courage.
"You see," he answered, "I am sleeping."
"Wah! My brother was afraid of the fire, and for that reason took to the river."