CHAPTER XII. THE NIGHT ATTACK.
Long before the sun had cast its rays on the tree tops, the Indian encampment was astir. The sky was just beginning to grow grey with the coming dawn when the hasty morning meal had been finished and the fires stamped out. The Indians also had seen the camp fires of their enemies across the bay, and they took especial pains in the morning to keep their blazes small and hidden in the slight hollows. Silently the two white boys and their red companions stole to the water's edge, launched their birch canoes and paddled away from their temporary camp. A heavy mist hung over the water and they wished to be well along before the sun's warm rays dispelled the blanket that hid them.
"It feels good to be able to paddle," said Dick.
The party in Fritz's canoe was right along side of his and the boys were able to keep up a quiet conversation at the start.
"Ve would by now be half to death frozen already," replied the Dutch boy, plying his paddle vigorously.
"Let's put a little energy into our strokes," suggested Dick. "We'll try to get up in the lead and keep the pace up."
"I am already pushing so fast as I can," replied Fritz.
"Then we'll leave you at the tail end in about five minutes," said Dick, as he dug his paddle blade deep into the water and sent the frail canoe ahead by leaps and bounds. The Indians in Dick's canoe caught the idea at once, and although Fritz and his companions started right after them, they were not able to catch up. Dick soon was parallel with the chief's canoe and here his companions stopped paddling and looked at Telca for instructions.
"Ve haf caught you so soon," panted Fritz, drawing up abreast at that moment.