Robert, awed by time and circumstance, shared fully the belief of Tayoga
that their escape was a miracle. His nature contained much that was devout
and spiritual and he, too, with his impressionable imagination, peopled
earth and air almost unconsciously with spirits, good and bad. The good and
bad often fought together, and sometimes the good prevailed as they had
just done. There lay in the canoe the paddles, which they had lifted out of
the water in their surprise at the sudden attack, and beside them were the
rifles and everything else they needed.

They were content to let the canoe travel its own course for a long time,
and that course was definite and certain, as if guided by the hand of man.
The wind always carried it toward the northeast and farther and farther
away from the fleet of Tandakora. But they took off their clothing, wrung
out as much water as they could, and wrapped themselves in the dry blankets
from their packs. Robert's spirits, stimulated by the reaction, bubbled up
in a wonderful manner.

"We'll see no more of Tandakora for a long time, at least," he exclaimed,
"and now, ho! for our wonderful voyage!"

They drew the wet charges from their pistols and reloaded them, they
polished anew their hatchets and knives and then, these tasks done, they
still sat for a long time in the canoe, idle and content. Their little boat
needed no help or guidance from their hands. That favoring wind always
carried it away from their enemies and in the direction in which they
wished it to go. And yet the wind did not blow away the mists and vapors,
that grew thicker and thicker around them, until they could not see twenty
feet away.

Robert's feeling that they were protected, his sense of the spiritual and
mystic, grew, and he saw that the mind of Tayoga was under the same spell.
The waters of the lake were friendly now. As they lapped around the canoe
they made a soothing sound, and the wind that guided and propelled them
sang a low but pleasant song.

"We are in the arms of Tododaho," said Tayoga in a reverential tone, "and
Hayowentha, the great Mohawk, also looks on and smiles. What need for us to
strive when the gods themselves take us in their keeping?"

Hours passed before they spoke again. They had been at the uttermost verge
of exhaustion when they climbed into the canoe, and perhaps physical
weakness had made their minds more receptive to the belief that they were
in hands mightier than their own, b