"Keep close to the bank," whispered the hunter, "and whatever you do
don't make any splash as you swim."

The three were on the side of the craft next to the cliff and their
heads did not appear above its side. Then the canoe moved down the
stream at just about the speed of the current, and no human hands
appeared, nor was any human agency visible. It was just a wandering
little boat, set adrift upon the wilderness waters, a light shell, but
with an explorer's soul. It moved casually along, keeping nearest to the
cliff, the safest place for so frail a structure, hesitating two or
three times at points of rocks, but always making up its mind to go on
once more, and see where this fine but strange river led.

Luckily it was very dark by the cliff. The shadows fell there like black
blankets, and no eye yet rested upon the questing canoe which kept its
way, idly exploring the reaches of the river. Gasna Gaowo, this bark
canoe of red elm, was not large, but it was a noble specimen of its
kind, a forest product of Onondaga patience and skill. On either side
near the prow was painted in scarlet a great eagle's eye, and now the
two large red eyes of the canoe gazed ahead into the darkness, seeking
to pierce the unknown.

The canoe went on with a gentle, rocking motion made by the current,
strayed now and then a little way from the cliff, but always came back
to it. The pair of great red eyes stared at the cliff so close and at
the other cliff farther away and at the middle of the stream, which was
now tranquil and unruffled by the wreckage of the forest blown into the
water by the storm. The canoe also looked into one or two little coves,
and seeing nothing there but the river edge bubbling against the stone,