the shore, Deerslayer
took in his sail. He dropped his grapnel, as soon as he found the Ark
had drifted in a line that was directly to windward of the rock. The
motion of the scow was then checked, when it was brought head to wind,
by the action of the breeze. As soon as this was done, Deerslayer "paid
out line," and suffered the vessel to "set down" upon the rock, as fast
as the light air could force it to leeward. Floating entirely on the
surface, this was soon effected, and the young man checked the drift
when he was told that the stern of the scow was within fifteen or
eighteen feet of the desired spot.

In executing this maneuver, Deerslayer had proceeded promptly, for,
while he did not in the least doubt that he was both watched and
followed by the foe, he believed he distracted their movements, by the
apparent uncertainty of his own, and he knew they could have no means
of ascertaining that the rock was his aim, unless indeed one of their
prisoners had betrayed him; a chance so improbable in itself, as to give
him no concern. Notwithstanding the celerity and decision his movements,
he did not, however, venture so near the shore without taking due
precautions to effect a retreat, in the event of its becoming necessary.
He held the line in his hand, and Judith was stationed at a loop, on the
side of the cabin next the shore, where she could watch the beach and
the rock, and give timely notice of the approach of either friend
or foe. Hetty was also placed on watch, but it was to keep the trees
overhead in view, lest some enemy might ascend one, and, by completely
commanding the interior of the scow render the defence of the hut, or
cabin, useless.

The sun had disappeared from the lake and valley, when Deerslayer
checked the Ark, in the manner mentioned. Still it wanted a few
minutes to the true sunset, and he knew Indian punctuality too well
to anticipate any unmanly haste in his friend. The great question was,
whether, surrounded by enemies as he was known to be, he had escaped
their toils. The occurrences of the last twenty-four hours must be a
secret to him, and like himself, Chingachgook was yet young on a path.
It was true, he came prepared to encounter the party that withheld
his promised bride, but he had no means ascertaining the extent of the
danger he ran, or the precise positions occupied by either friends, or
foes. In a word, the trained sagacity, and untiring caution of an Indian
were all he had to