"But, begging your pardon, Master Arrowhead, the smoke is not
black, nor is there much of it. To my eye, now, it is as light
and fanciful a smoke as ever rose from a captain's tea-kettle, when
nothing was left to make the fire but a few chips from the dunnage."

"Too much water," returned Arrowhead, with a slight nod of the
head; "Tuscarora too cunning to make fire with water! Pale-face
too much book, and burn anything; much book, little know."

"Well, that's reasonable, I allow," said Cap, who was no devotee
of learning: "he means that as a hit at your reading, Magnet; for
the chief has sensible notions of things in his own way. How far,
now, Arrowhead, do you make us, by your calculation, from the bit
of a pond that you call the Great Lake, and towards which we have
been so many days shaping our course?"

The Tuscarora looked at the seaman with quiet superiority as he
answered, "Ontario, like heaven; one sun, and the great traveller
will know it."

"Well, I have been a great traveller, I cannot deny; but of all my
v'y'ges this has been the longest, the least profitable, and the
farthest inland. If this body of fresh water is so nigh, Arrowhead,
and so large, one might think a pair of good eyes would find it
out; for apparently everything within thirty miles is to be seen
from this lookout."

"Look," said Arrowhead, stretching an arm before him with quiet
grace; "Ontario!"