The youth now guided the boat further out into the lake, and dexterously avoided sunken rocks, which yearned for victims.
The flashes of lightning were quite frequent, and told the voyagers that the storm would discharge its fury about the spot where their cave was situated, nearly nine miles below Chapel Rock.
“I despise this place on such a night,” ejaculated the white youth. “We always strike one rock, and they’re getting thick now.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth when the little canoe brought up against the rock, and all sounds were drowned by a peal of thunder.
“We’re near the chapel,” said Ahdeek.
“Near enough to shoot an Indian from the ‘pulpit,’” replied the Destroyer. “Curse this rock! We’ll rest here, and look at the boat.”
So he threw a noose over the sharp crag, and proceeded to examine the craft which the waves tossed hither and thither, like a cork.
Ahdeek did not assist, but kept his face turned toward Chapel Rock, waiting for something, as his countenance indicated.
That something seemed to be a flash of lightning, for, as it lit up the water, the half-breed started back with a cry of amazement.
“What’s up, Ahdeek?” cried the white boy—for boy in years the young Destroyer seemed—turning quickly from his labor.