At a distance appeared the shadowy form of a canoe, in which two figures were seated.
The fog, like a dull silver veil, was still spread over the lagoon, and his efforts to recognise the phantom-like forms were unavailing.
The intervening curtain of vapour baffled even the keen eye-sight of an Indian.
He hallooed to the spectral figures until the swamp re-echoed his shouts.
In vain!
No response came from the silent voyagers.
He fancied that the measured pulling of the oars for an instant ceased, but so dim and unreal did it all appear, that he began to doubt the evidence of his senses.
As he gazed the canoe glided silently out of sight.
Muttering an angry adjuration at the ghostly oarsman, he threw himself upon the ground.
Overcome with the fatiguing journey, and dispirited by his fruitless search, he soon fell into a deep slumber.