down, leaving them in
darkness, but this made no difference, for, guided by the stars,
Crow kept straight on his course. Not till break of day did he come
to a halt.

Then, on the banks of a narrow stream, the Indians kindled a fire
and broiled some of the venison. Crow told Isaac he could rest, so
he made haste to avail himself of the permission, and almost
instantly was wrapped in the deep slumber of exhaustion. Three of
the Indians followed suit, and Crow stood guard. Sleepless,
tireless, he paced to and fro on the bank his keen eyes vigilant for
signs of pursuers.

The sun was high when the party resumed their flight toward the
west. Crow plunged into the brook and waded several miles before he
took to the woods on the other shore. Isaac suffered severely from
the sharp and slippery stones, which in no wise bothered the
Indians. His feet were cut and bruised; still he struggled on
without complaining. They rested part of the night, and the next day
the Indians, now deeming themselves practically safe from pursuit,
did not exercise unusual care to conceal their trail.

That evening about dusk they came to a rapidly flowing stream which
ran northwest. Crow and one of the other Indians parted the willows
on the bank at this point and dragged forth a long birch-bark canoe
which they ran into the stream. Isaac recognized the spot. It was
near the head of Mad River, the river which ran through the Wyandot
settlements.

Two of the Indians took the bow, the third Indian and Isaac sat in
the middle, back to back, and Crow knelt in the stern. Once launched
on that wild ride Isaac forgot his uneasiness and his bruises. The
night was beautiful; he loved the water, and was not lacking in
sentiment. He gave himself up to the charm of the silver moonlight,
of the changing scenery, and the musical gurgle of the water. Had it
not been for the cruel face of Crow, he could have imagined himself
on one of those enchanted canoes in fairyland, of which he had read
when a boy. Ever varying pictures presented themselves at the range,
impelled by vigorous arms, flew over the shining bosom of the
stream. Here, in a sharp bend, was a narrow place where the trees on
each bank interlaced their branches and hid the moon, making a dark
and dim retreat. Then came a short series of ripples, with merry,
bouncing waves and foamy currents; below lay a long, smooth reach of
water, deep and placid, mirroring the moon and the countless stars.
Noi