physical
quivers. Absolute calm, if he could command it, was good for the soul,
placed as he was, and the mere act of lying still helped toward that. It
was what Tayoga would do if he were in his place, and, spurred by a
noble emulation, he resolved that he would not be inferior to the
Onondaga.

An hour, two hours passed and he did not stir. His stillness made his
hearing more acute. The trampling of feet over his head came to him with
great distinctness. He heard the singing of wind at the porthole, and,
now and then, the swish of waters as they swept past the schooner. He
wondered what Tayoga was doing and what would Willet think when he came
back to Albany and found him gone. It gave him a stab of agony. His
pride was hurt, too, that he had been trapped so thoroughly. Then his
resolution returned to his aid. Making a supreme effort of his will, he
dismissed the thought, concentrating his mind on hope. Would Tayoga's
Manitou help him? Would Tododaho on his remote star look down upon him
with kindness? The Onondaga in his place would put his faith in them,
and the Manitou of the Indian after all was but another name for his own
Christian God. Resolving to hope he did hope. He refused to believe that
the slaver could make him vanish from the face of the earth like a mist
before the wind.

The air in the little cabin was dense and heavy already, but after a
while he felt it grow thicker and warmer. He was conscious, too, of a
certain sultriness in it. The tokens were for a storm. He thought with a
leap of the heart of the earlier storm that had rescued him, but that
was at sea; this, if it came, would be on a river, and so shrewd a
captain as the slaver would not let himself be wrecked in the Hudson.

The heat and sultriness increased. Then he stood on the bunk and looked
through the porthole. He caught glimpses of lofty shores, trees at the
summit, and stretches of a dark and angry sky. Low thunder muttered,
rolling up from the west. Then came flashes of lightning, and the
thunder grew louder. By and by the wind blew heavily, making the
schooner reel before it, and when it died somewhat rain fell in sheets.

Although he felt it rather than saw it, Robert really enjoyed the storm.
It seemed a tonic to him, and the wilder it was the steadier grew his
own spirit. The breath of the rain as it entered the porthole was
refreshing, and the air in the cabin became clear and cool again. Then
followed the dark, and his secon