Robert, who was farthest forward in the canoe, noticed that the cliff
ahead, hollowed out at the base by the perpetual eating of the waters,
seemed to project over the stream, and he concluded that it was the
place in Tayoga's mind.

"Our shelter, isn't it?" he asked, pointing a finger by the lightning's
flare.

Tayoga nodded, and the three, putting their last ounce of strength into
the sweep of the paddles, sent the canoe racing over the swift current
toward the haven now needed so badly. As they approached, Robert saw
that the hollow went far back into the stone, having in truth almost the
aspects of a cave. Beneath the mighty projection he saw also that the
water was smooth, unlashed by the wind and outside the sweep of the
current, and he felt immense relief when the canoe shot into its still
depths and he was able to lay the paddle beside him.

"Back a little farther," said Tayoga, and he saw then, still by the
flare of lightning, that the water ended against a low shelf at least
six feet broad, upon which they stepped, lifting the canoe after them.

"It's all that you claimed for it, and more, Tayoga," said the hunter.
"I fancy a ship in a storm would be glad enough to find a refuge as good
for it as this is for us."

Tayoga smiled, and Robert knew that he felt deep satisfaction because he
had brought them so well to port. Looking about after they had lifted up
the canoe, he saw that in truth nature had made a good harbor here for
those who traveled on the river, its waters so far never having been