es and islets much
superior to them all together. There are said to be some
hundreds of islands in a sheet of water less than thirty
miles long. The narrows, which connect what may be called,
in truth, two lakes, are crowded with islands to such a
degree as to leave passages between them frequently of only
a few feet in width. The lake itself varies in breadth from
one to three miles.

Chingachgook laid aside his paddle; while Uncas and the scout urged the
light vessel through crooked and intricate channels, where every foot
that they advanced exposed them to the danger of some sudden rising
on their progress. The eyes of the Sagamore moved warily from islet to
islet, and copse to copse, as the canoe proceeded; and, when a clearer
sheet of water permitted, his keen vision was bent along the bald rocks
and impending forests that frowned upon the narrow strait.

Heyward, who was a doubly interested spectator, as well from the
beauties of the place as from the apprehension natural to his situation,
was just believing that he had permitted the latter to be excited
without sufficient reason, when the paddle ceased moving, in obedience
to a signal from Chingachgook.

"Hugh!" exclaimed Uncas, nearly at the moment that the light tap his
father had made on the side of the canoe notified them of the vicinity
of danger.

"What now?" asked the scout; "the lake is as smooth as if the winds had
never blown, and I can see along its sheet for miles; there is not so
much as the black head of a loon dotting the water."

The Indian gravely raised his paddle, and pointed in the direction
in which his own steady look was riveted. Duncan's eyes followed the
motion. A few rods in their front lay another of the wooded islets,
but it appeared as calm and peaceful as if its solitude had never been
disturbed by the foot of man.

"I see nothing," he said, "but land and water; and a lovely scene it
is."

"Hist!" interrupted the scout. "Ay, Sagamore, there is always a reason
for what you do. 'Tis but a shade, and yet it is not natural. You see
the mist, major, that is rising above the island; you can't call it a
fog, for it is more like a streak of thin cloud--"

"It is vapor from the water."

"That a child could tell. But what is the edging of blacker smoke
that hangs along its lower side, and which you may trace down into the
thicket of hazel? 'Tis from a fire; but one that, in my judgment, has
been