I started. "A mistake," I exclaimed, "dear friend, a sad mistake; we are
more than thirty miles from the river."

"From the main river, yes," answered he, shaking my hand, "but many an
otter have I killed in a pretty lake two miles from here, at the
southern side of this hill. There I have a boat well concealed, as I
hope; and it is a place where we may defy all the Arrapahoes, and the
Crows to back them. From that lake to the river it is but thirty miles'
paddling in a smooth canal, made either by nature or by a former race
of men."

I need not say how cheerfully we walked these two miles, in spite of the
weight of our saddles, rifles, and accoutrements. Our ascent was soon
over, and striking into a small tortuous deer-path, we perceived below
us the transparent sheet of water, in which a few stars already
reflected their pale and tremulous light. When we reached the shore of
the lake, we found ourselves surrounded by vast and noble ruins, like
those on the Buona Ventura, but certainly much more romantic. Gabriel
welcomed us to his trapping-ground, as a lord in his domain, and soon
brought out a neat little canoe from under a kind of ancient vault.

"This canoe," said he, "once belonged to one of the poor fellows that
was murdered with the Prince Seravalle. We brought it here six years ago
with great secrecy; it cost him twenty dollars, a rifle, and six
blankets. Now, in the middle of this lake there is an island, where he
and I lived together, and where we can remain for months without any
fear of Indians or starvation."

We all three entered the canoe, leaving our saddles behind us, to
recover them on the following day. One hour's paddling brought us to the