"I feel the fog thinning, Dagaeoga. A wind out of the west has risen, and soon it will take it all away."
"But it has served its purpose. I shall always feel well toward fogs. Yes, here it goes! The wind is rising fast, and it is taking away the mists and vapors in great folds."
The water began to roughen under the stiff breeze. The fog was split asunder, the pieces were torn to fragments and shreds, and then everything was swept away, leaving the surface of the lake a silver mirror, and the mountains high and green on either shore. Far behind them hovered the Indian canoes, and four or five miles ahead a tower of smoke rose from the west bank.
"Certainly our people," said Robert, looking at the smoke.
"There is no doubt of it," said the Onondaga, "and that is where we will go."
"And those behind us know now that we tricked them in the fog and have escaped. They give forth a shout of anger and disappointment. Now they turn back."
They eased their strokes a little as the pursuit had been abandoned, but curved more toward the center of the lake, lest some hidden sharpshooter on shore might reach them, and made fair speed toward the smoke, which Robert surmised might be made by a vanguard of troops.
"We ought to have help for Colden and Willet very soon," he said.
"It will not be long," said Tayoga; "but Dagaeoga has forgotten something. Can he not think what it is?"
"No, Tayoga, I can't recall anything."