It was an oar.
A glance convinced him that it was the fellow of the one he held in his hand.
Re-animated by this assuring proof that he was going in the right direction, he fished it up, and abandoning the more laborious mode of paddling, he adjusted the oars in the rowlocks, and bending to them, made more rapid way.
He kept his eyes turning to right and left, on the lookout for a landing-place, which he now felt assured could not be far distant.
His scrutiny was at length rewarded.
A few hundred yards from where he had picked up the floating oar, a post was seen sticking up out of the bank.
To this was attached a Manilla rope, the broken strands of which showed it to be the other portion of that fastened to the stern of the canoe.
The clue was found.
Those he had dimly seen in the morning, were doubtless close at hand.
He ran the craft in shore, fastened it securely to the post, and landed.