stood at the side of the canoe. The first glance told him that
the paddles had been removed! This was a sore disappointment, after all
his efforts, and, for a single moment, he thought of turning, and of
facing his foes by walking with dignity into the centre of the camp
again. But an infernal yell, such as the American savage alone can
raise, proclaimed the quick approach of the nearest of his pursuers,
and the instinct of life triumphed. Preparing himself duly, and giving a
right direction to its bows, he ran off into the water bearing the canoe
before him, threw all his strength and skill into a last effort, and
cast himself forward so as to fall into the bottom of the light craft
without materially impeding its way. Here he remained on his back, both
to regain his breath and to cover his person from the deadly rifle.
The lightness, which was such an advantage in paddling the canoe, now
operated unfavorably. The material was so like a feather, that the boat
had no momentum, else would the impulse in that smooth and placid sheet
have impelled it to a distance from the shore that would have rendered
paddling with the hands safe. Could such a point once be reached,
Deerslayer thought he might get far enough out to attract the attention
of Chingachgook and Judith, who would not fail to come to his relief
with other canoes, a circumstance that promised everything. As the young
man lay in the bottom of the canoe, he watched its movements by studying
the tops of the trees on the mountainside, and judged of his distance by
the time and the motions. Voices on the shore were now numerous, and he
heard something said about manning the raft, which, fortunately for the
fugitive, lay at a considerable distance on the other side of the point.

Perhaps the situation of Deerslayer had not been more critical that
day than it was at this moment. It certainly had not been one half as
tantalizing. He lay perfectly quiet for two or three minutes, trusting
to the single sense of hearing, confident that the noise in the lake
would reach his ears, did any one venture to approach by swimming.
Once or twice he fancied that the element was stirred by the cautious
movement of an arm, and then he perceived it was the wash of the water
on the pebbles of the strand; for, in mimicry of the ocean, it is seldom
that those little lakes are so totally tranquil as not to possess a
slight heaving and setting on their shores. Suddenly all the voices
ceased