He was nodding over his now almost useless labour when a light splash, like the bob of a fish, made him look round him. The splash had been caused by an arrow. Behind him, two canoes, each with three Indians in it, were coming along at a speed that he could not have beaten even had he been perfectly fresh. For just one second there was the hope that the redskins might be of some tribe hostile to the Cherokees, who would be willing to help him in return for promises of money, which he could easily obtain from some charitable person at Buffalo. But he knew the build, the costume, the very method of using the paddles, too well; these men were Cherokees. He turned round to pick up his bow, and, in so doing, looked over the side. Floating within a yard or two of him was an arrow, lying perfectly horizontal! He stared at it open-mouthed; an arrow, if the weight of its head did not sink it entirely, must float perpendicularly, showing but very little of its length. But this particular arrow _had_ no head; a token that it had not been shot in any unfriendly spirit. He looked back at his pursuers again; one of them was waving his hand, and, as his canoe came almost within touching distance, shouted: "We have some fish; will you give us bread in exchange for some? We have no bread, and very little tobacco." The words sounded very much like an excerpt from Somebody or Other's "French Exercises," not the less so in that they were uttered in French-Canadian--a language which Munson understood perfectly well. He could almost have cried with relief. The Cherokees were Ontario fishermen; Christians, and the sons of Christians, and no more likely to interfere with the soldier than if they had been his fellow-countrymen. On finding that he spoke not only French but their own Iroquoian as well, they became exceedingly friendly; but Munson (perhaps he did them grave injustice) had become far too cautious to tell them the circumstances under which he had learned their language. He confined himself to the statement that he wished to reach Buffalo, and would reward them amply if they would put him ashore there; he had been robbed of his money, he said--which was perfectly true--but could easily get some in the town; he was too tired to use his paddles; would they take him there? The next thing he knew was that the Indians were waking him at the quay outside Buffalo; he had fallen asleep even while trying to strike a bargain with them, and now they refused to take any other payment than the tobacco and provisions with which he had stored his boat; and, bidding him good-bye, they landed him and paddled away again. He went to the nearest military depôt and reported himself, and of course had no difficulty in obtaining the means to reach his home. CHAPTER II THE INVASION OF CORRIENTES