"I begin to think they're really going to leave us, but it's too early
yet to tell definitely," said the hunter. "We shouldn't give them an
earthly chance to see us, and, for that reason, we'd better retreat
into the heart of the island. We mustn't leave all the work of
deception to the canoe."

"The Great Bear is right," said Tayoga. "Manitou will not help those
who sit still, relying wholly on him."

They drew back fifteen or twenty yards, and sat down on a hillock,
covered with dense bushes, though from their place of hiding they
could see the water on all sides. Unless the Indians landed on the
island and made a thorough search they would not be found. Meanwhile
the canoe was faithful to its trust. The strong wind out of the north
carried it on with few moments of hesitation as it poised on breaking
waves, its striking similitude to life never being lost for an
instant. Robert began to believe with Tayoga that it was, in very
fact and truth, alive and endowed with reason. Why not? The Iroquois
believed that spirits could go into wood and who was he to argue that
white men were right, and red men wrong? His life in the forest had
proved to him often that red men were right and white men wrong.

Whoever might be right the canoe was still a tantalizing object to the
pursuit. It may have been due to a slight shift of the wind, but
it began suddenly to have the appearance of dancing upon the waves,
swinging a little to and fro, teetering about, but in the main keeping
its general course, straight ahead.

Tayoga laughed softly.