"It is so," said Tayoga.

No more words were needed, and they strengthened their hearts for the
daring attempt, waiting patiently for the afternoon to wane and die into
the night, which, arrived moonless and starless and heavy with dark, as
they had hoped and predicted. Just before, a little spasmodic firing
came from the besiegers, but they did not deign to answer. Instead they
waited patiently until the night was far advanced and then they prepared
quickly for running the gauntlet, a task that would require the greatest
skill, courage and presence of mind. Robert's heart beat hard. Like the
others he was weary of the friendly hollow that had served them so well,
and the murmuring of the river, as it flowed, invited them to come on
and use it as the road of escape.

The three took off all their clothing and disposed everything carefully
in the canoe, laying the rifles on top where they could be reached with
a single swift movement of the arm. Then they stared up and down the
stream, and listened with all their powers of hearing. No savage was to
be seen nor did anyone make a sound that reached the three, although
Robert knew they lay behind the rocks not so very far away.

"They're not stirring, Tayoga," whispered the hunter. "Perhaps they
think we don't dare try the river, and in this case as in most others
the boldest way is the best. Take the other end of the canoe, and we'll
lift it down gently."

He and the Onondaga lowered the canoe so slowly that it made no splash
when it took the water, and then the three lowered themselves in turn,
sinking into the stream to their throats.