They stopped at the crest of the transverse ridge and saw in the west the dark line, the nature of which Henry had been unable to decipher by moonlight. Now they saw that it was land, and they saw, too, another sight that startled them. Two large canoes were approaching the island swiftly, and they were already so near that Henry and Shif'less Sol could see the features of their occupants. Neither of the boats had a sail. Both were propelled wholly by paddlers—six paddlers to each canoe—stalwart, painted Indians, bare of shoulders and chest. But in the center of the first canoe sat a man with arms bound.
"It's a victim whom they are bringing for the stake and the sacrifice," said Henry.
"He must be from some tribe in the far North," said Shif'less Sol, "'cause all the Indian nations in the valley are allied."
"He is not from any tribe at all," said Henry. "The prisoner is a white man."
"A white man!" exclaimed Shif'less Sol, "an' you an' me, Henry, know that most o' the prisoners who are brought to these parts are captured in Kentucky."
"It's so, and I don't think we ought to go away in such a hurry."
"Meanin' we might be o' help?"
"Meaning we might be of help."
Henry watched the boats a minute or two longer, and saw that they were coming directly for one of the little inlets on the north end of the island. Moreover, they were coming fast under the long sweep of the paddles swung by brown and sinewy arms.
"Tom," he said to Ross, "you go back for Paul. Tell Jim to have the sail up and ready for us when we come, and meanwhile to guard the boat. That's a white man and they intend to burn him as a sacrifice to Manitou or the spirits of the lake. We've got to rescue him."