The sun was just setting, and dark clouds threatened a storm from the south-west. A vivid flash of lightning lit up the forest and river. Rolla sprang into the air and gave the usual three barks.
The dog either sees or smells something, said Cahoonshee. Look on the river when the next flash comes.
Then came a gust of wind that bent the trees nearly to the ground, which was followed by continuous lightning, and which lit up the river from shore to shore. About a thousand feet from the shore was plainly to be seen the canoe containing Amy and her captors.
Our chase is in vain, said Cahoonshee. The canoe cannot float long in that stream. It will drive them on the rocks at the head of the island. Let us build a raft and renew the search as soon as the storm is over.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Storm—Buried in the River—Old Shell to the Rescue. Which is Which and What is What.
The Indians had scarcely left the shore when the storm broke upon them in all its fury. The canoe had capacity for but six in still water. With its present cargo, it sank to the gunwale.
The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the waves ran mountain high. Earth, air and water seemed to be striving for the mastery. The little canoe was tossed about on the surging foam like an egg shell in a boiling caldron. The occupants realized their danger, yet remained cool and collected and patiently awaited their doom. At last the Chief said: