He saw that the action of the current would eventually work it loose
from the raft, but he believed it would yet hang there for at least ten
minutes. So he would have time to go back to his nearest comrade and
return with him. Then one could enter the water and salvage the canoe,
while the other stayed on the bank and watched. Having reached this wise
conclusion he disappeared in the woods, seeking the second Indian, but
before the two could come together the canoe had worked loose and was
gone.

The three hidden in the bushes had watched the Indian as well as the
dusk would permit and they read his mind. They knew that when he turned
away he had gone for help and they knew equally well that it was time
for the full power of the current to take effect.

"Shove it off, Tayoga," whispered Willet, "and I think we'd better help
along with some strokes of our own."

"It is so," said Tayoga.

Now the wandering canoe was suddenly endowed with more life and purpose,
or else the current grew much swifter. After an uneasy stay with the
boughs, it left them quickly, sailed out toward the middle of the
stream, and floated at great speed between banks that were growing high
again. The friendly dark was also an increasing protection to the three
who were steering it. The heavy but rainless clouds continued to gather
over them, and the canoe sped on at accelerated speed in an opaque
atmosphere. A mile farther and Willet suggested that they get into the
canoe and paddle with all their might. The embarkation, a matter of
delicacy and difficulty, was made with success, and then they used the
paddles furiously.