When the sun sunk behind Chapel Rock and the shadows of night swept over lake and forest, Silver Rifle glided from the cave.
At the mouth of the entrance she found a strange boat, which belonged to Renadah, who had fallen before her arm. Doubtless he was on the water when Dohma bore his prize to the cave, and had followed in his canoe.
Quietly she stepped into the boat and sent it flying through the rocky gateways out into the calmer waters.
She coasted toward Chapel Rock, which she sounded, and presently, having scaled the cliff at a feasible point, found herself in the forest above. The canoe had been hidden among the fallen firs on the beach, and was secure from savage prowlers’ eyes.
The moon was giving tokens of an early visit to the nocturnal heavens, as Silver Rifle darted into the dangerous wood, apparently having some objective point in view.
She knew where two gigantic oaks grew side by side, and to this particular spot she was hastening.
The rising moon found her hurrying along the cliffs, and after traversing several miles, she suddenly wheeled to the left and advanced with caution.
Once or twice she stopped among the ghostly shadows, for the cry of a night-bird had greeted her ears, and she quite naturally associated the sound with the presence of enemies.
But no answering signals were heard, and she advanced again until she stood beneath the boughs of the trees she had sought.
Surely these were the two oaks mentioned by Dohma; they were the only two which stood together near the lake-shore.