Whitey tried his hand at paddling; and, under Injun's tutelage, he quickly got "the hang of it"—at least, so that he could keep the canoe in a fairly straight line. But to be able to send it swiftly through the water without a sound and scarcely a ripple, requires long practice.
After paddling for a couple of miles, it was evident, however, that it would take about all day for them to arrive at the island, if Whitey continued to furnish the motive power, and laughingly suggested that he was perfectly willing to let Injun do the paddling and suggested that they change seats. He rose in the canoe to effect this, but Injun vetoed this emphatically. He reached for the paddle, which Whitey handed to him, and Injun simply turned the canoe around, and thus sat in the stern, the canoe being shaped similarly at both ends. Whitey smiled: "There are more ways than one of skinning a cat!" he remarked, chagrined at having failed to notice such a simple and evident thing.
"I guess, Injun," he said, "I'm a good deal like the man who cut two holes in the barn door—a big one for the big cat, and a little one for the little cat! He and I would make a good team of managers!"
Under the powerful and skillful strokes of Injun's paddle—Whitey took the other paddle and tried to help, but finally put it away as he felt that he wasn't of a great deal of assistance—the canoe soon scraped on the gravelly beach of the island. Injun lifted the canoe out of the water and placed it high and dry on the bank; and, taking their rifles, the boys struck out into the dense woods that covered the island.
[CHAPTER XXVI]
THE MAN ON THE ISLAND
All that Injun had said or intimated about the island was more than justified by the actuality. It rose to a peak at the center, but was filled with gorges and small canyons, and there were two or three little streams that splashed and rippled their way down to the lake. There were no trails, and had Whitey been alone, he would have found great difficulty in retracing his steps to the point where they had landed, except by making his way to the lake and following the edge until he came to the spot.
For several hours they rambled over the island, ate their fill of the luscious wild blueberries that grew in profusion, but failed to bring down any of the wild ducks that swam about the bays and inlets, although they fired at them several times.
As they skirted the northern end of the island, high up on the rocky and precipitous bank, they came upon a cabin. Whitey was for advancing at once and investigating it, but Injun held him back—it was part of Injun's policy never to rush blindly into a strange situation, and never to take anything for granted. From the thick underbrush that concealed them, Injun examined the place carefully for at least five minutes before he ventured to come cautiously out of cover and approach the cabin. Even then, he advanced with great caution and without making a sound.