"The Seneca and I'll keep watch by turns," the scout said. "We'll
wake you if we want ye."

Harold was by this time sufficiently accustomed to the ways of the
woods to obey orders at once without offering to take his turn at
watching, as his inclination led him to do, and he was soon sound
asleep. It was late in the afternoon when he was awoke by the scout
touching him.

"There's some critters coming along the bank," he said in a whisper.
"They aint likely to see us, but it's best to be ready."

Harold sat up in the canoe, rifle in hand, and, listening intently,
heard a slight sound such as would be produced by the snapping of a
twig. Presently he heard upon the other side of the bushes, a few
yards distant, a few low words in the Indian tongue. He looked at his
companions. They were sitting immovable, each with his rifle directed
toward the sound, and Harold thought it would fare badly with any of
the passers if they happened to take a fancy to peer through the
bushes. The Indians had, however, no reason for supposing that there
were any enemies upon the lake, and they consequently passed on
without examining more closely the thicket by the shore. Not until it
was perfectly dark did Peter give the sign for the continuance of the
journey. This time, instead of skirting the lake, the canoe was
steered out toward its center. For some time they paddled, and then
several lights were seen from ahead.

"I thought so," the scout said. "They've crossed to the Isle La Motte
and they're making as many fires as if they war having a sort of