"No, miss, I'm never tired," he replied.
"Where do you sleep when you are travelling over the broad prairies?"
"Sometimes in an Indian tepee, but generally allers on the ground."
"While the boat goes along so well, two of us might sleep, for it is only necessary to have one at the helm."
"I kin stand it without much sleep, miss. I kin ketch a nap while I set here. I've often slep standin' up agin a tree when the wolves was thick about me. Old Rattleshag is tough and hard."
"Now your bed is ready, Fanny," said Ethan, coming aft.
"Thank you, Ethan; you are very kind, and I am tired enough to sleep like a log. Now, if you will take the tiller, I will see what kind of work you make of it."
Ethan took the helm, and at first made the usual miscalculations of an unexperienced steersman; but Fanny soon instructed him so that he steered very well, and she went forward to her couch. In a whisper she said the prayer which she never omitted, and covering herself with blankets, was soon fast asleep.
After dark, the wind was very light and baffling, but the river was not so tortuous in its course, and the progress of the boat was rather more satisfactory than it had been during the afternoon. Ethan was very considerate of his fair companion, and neglected her injunction to call her in a few hours. He had given the helm to Rattleshag in the middle of the night, and gone to sleep himself. At daylight the trapper was at his post, and both the young exiles were still sleeping away the fatigues of the preceding day. The boat had not yet come up with the escort, who had probably gone more than the fifteen miles agreed upon.
Rattleshag sat at the helm, gazing fixedly down the river. He looked like a statue, and he sat so still that it was hard to believe he ever had moved, or ever would do so. His long rifle lay at his side, at rest like himself.