the good and evil together," said Tayoga gravely.

"Anyhow," said Willet, "I hope we'll get to our shelter before the rain
comes. Look out for that rock on the right, Robert!"

Young Lennox, with a swift and powerful motion of the paddle, shot the
canoe back toward the center of the river, and then the three tried to
hold it there as they sped on.

"Three or four hundred yards more," said Tayoga, "and we can draw into
the smooth water we wish."

"And not a minute too soon," said Willet. "It seems to me I can hear the
rain coming now in a deluge, and the waves on the river make me think of
some I've seen on one of the big lakes. Listen to that, will you!"

A huge tree, blown down, fell directly across the stream, not more than
twenty yards behind them. But the fierce and swollen waters tearing at
it in torrents would soon bear it away on the current.

"Manitou was watching over us then," said Tayoga with the same gravity.

"As sure as the Hudson runs into the sea, he was," said Willet in a tone
of reverence. "If that tree had hit us we and the canoe would all have
been smashed together and a week later maybe the French would have
fished our pieces out of the St. Lawrence."

Robert, who was farthest forward in the canoe, noticed that the cliff
ahead, hollowed out at the base by the perpetual eating of the waters,
seemed to project over the stream, and he concluded that it was the
place in Tayoga's mind.

"Our shelter, isn't it?" he asked, pointing a finger by the lightning's
flare.

Tayoga nodded, and the three, putting their last ounce of strength into
the sweep of the paddles, sent the canoe racing over the swift current
toward the haven now needed so badly. As they approached, Robert saw
that the hollow went far back into the stone, having in truth almost the
aspects of a cave. Beneath the mighty projection he saw also that the
water was smooth, unlashed by the wind and outside the sweep of the
current, and he felt immense relief when the canoe shot into its still
depths and he was able to lay the paddle beside him.

"Back a little farther," said Tayoga, and he saw then, still by the
flare of lightning, that the water ended against a low shelf at least
six feet broad, upon which they stepped, lifting the canoe after them.

"It's all that you claimed for it, and more, Tayoga," said the hunter.
"I fancy a ship in a storm would be glad enough to find a refuge as good
for it as this is for us."

Tayoga smile