What new danger threatened them now? As they drew ashore at a spot where the bushes parted to allow the rock to jut into the water, Jamie was about to inquire from the Indian youth what was the matter, and how he had managed to strike their trail again, at a moment when perhaps they most needed his presence, but a low "Hist!" which came from the dark figure upon the rock, silenced him. Evidently the lad had feared for their safety, and at great peril had come to save them, or at any rate to make them conscious of the approaching danger.
Silently, they landed on the margin of the forest, and crept ashore. The rustle of a leaf, the snapping of a twig might betray their presence to a lurking scout, though as yet they knew not what danger threatened.
"The Wacondah has made Swift Arrow his messenger, in order to save our scalps. Swift Arrow will now speak," whispered the hunter.
Then in a low, soft, musical voice, untouched by excitement at the nearness of danger, or emotion at seeing his friends again, the Indian pointed to the dark headland, scarce a hundred yards further along the lake, and said--
"Swift Arrow has kept watch for his friends. There is the Algonquin camp, and their scouts are close to us; watching both the lake and the forest. A singing-bird has spoken to them, and they think White Eagle is behind them. Before daybreak, they will enter the Seneca River, at the outlet of the lake, on their way back to the Canadas."
"But must we remain here till they are gone?" asked Jamie.
"No," smiled the youth. "Swift Arrow will now lead his paleface friends out of danger, and pilot them safely to the spot where the White Eagle awaits the Algonquins, at the portage by the Seneca Falls."
Saying this, he stepped into the canoe and took the paddle, motioning the others to lie down in the bottom of the craft, and then noiselessly pushed off from the bank. The Indian did not attempt to continue the former direction, but paddled cautiously back a little way, hugging the shore; then he struck directly across the lake, which is here about two miles broad, and having approached the opposite bank, he turned the head of the canoe once more towards the outlet of the lake, and paddled swiftly.
This manoeuvre succeeded perfectly, and they got away unobserved. Taking turns at the solitary paddle, they soon reached the outlet, and entered the swift stream which takes its name from the lake. Now they were piloted swiftly and safely past the rapids, aided only by the light of the stars, and the daring skill of the Indian.
Two hours before dawn, a dull roar fell upon their ears. It was the cataract, where the whole river tumbles in a frenzy of froth and foam down a chasm of fifty feet, forming the far-famed Seneca Falls.