Chapter 28

"Nor widows' tears, nor tender orphans' cries
Can stop th' invader's force;
Nor swelling seas, nor threatening skies,
Prevent the pirate's course:
Their lives to selfish ends decreed
Through blood and rapine they proceed;
No anxious thoughts of ill repute,
Suspend the impetuous and unjust pursuit;
But power and wealth obtain'd, guilty and great,
Their fellow creatures' fears they raise, or urge their hate."

Congreve, "Pindaric Ode," ii.

By this time Deerslayer had been twenty minutes in the canoe, and
he began to grow a little impatient for some signs of relief from
his friends. The position of the boat still prevented his seeing
in any direction, unless it were up or down the lake, and, though
he knew that his line of sight must pass within a hundred yards of
the castle, it, in fact, passed that distance to the westward of
the buildings. The profound stillness troubled him also, for he
knew not whether to ascribe it to the increasing space between him
and the Indians, or to some new artifice. At length, wearied with
fruitless watchfulness, the young man turned himself on his back,
closed his eyes, and awaited the result in determined acquiescence.
If the savages could so completely control their thirst for revenge,
he was resolved to be as calm as themselves, and to trust his fate
to the interposition of the currents and air.

Some additional ten minutes may have passed in this quiescent
manner, on both sides, when Deerslayer thought he heard a slight
noise, like a low rubbing against the bottom of his canoe. He
opened his eyes of course, in expectation of seeing the face or
arm of an Indian rising from the water, and found that a canopy
of leaves was impending directly over his head. Starting to his
feet, the first object that met his eye was Rivenoak, who had so far
aided the slow progress of the boat, as to draw it on the point,
the grating on the strand being the sound that had first given
our hero the alarm. The change in the drift of the canoe had been
altogether owing to the baffling nature of the light currents of
the air, aided by some eddies in the water.

"Come," said the Huron with a quiet gesture of authority, to order
his prisoner to land, "my young friend has sailed about till he is
tired; he will forget how to run again, unless he uses his legs."

"You've the best of it, Huron," returned Deerslayer, stepping
steadily from the canoe, and passively following his leader to the
open area of the point; "Providence has helped you in an onexpected
manner. I'm your prisoner ag'in, and I hope you'll allow that I'm
as good at breaking gaol, as I am at keeping furloughs."

"My young