It was the middle of the day, when Oloompa and the hunters reached the lake. Its broad surface, disturbed by a fresh breeze, lay glancing in the sun. The wind fanned their feverish and excited frames, and they stood alone on the shore, and looked abroad in silence on the vast surface before them, and the jutting promontories, and half concealed rocks against and over which the waves were dashing and fretting; and then the bold and high shore, which, robed in grandeur, overlooked the vast prospect before them. For a moment they stood in silence,—the scene occupied all their thoughts; then they began to search the shore and gaze upon the wide waste, to see if any freighted canoe was dancing over its waters. There was none,—not a sail, not a wide-spread blanket, greeted the eye;—no, not a sound broke upon the ears, but the hoarse dashing of the waves, as they washed up against the shore. And thus they stood,—and this was the end of their hazardous journey and exciting pursuit. None seemed disposed to speak, for there was only one hope remaining, and that was that they might not have descended the Portage,—to the mouth of which the distance was now nearly half a mile; and thither they proceeded. They had continued on but a short distance further, when darting out of the Portage into the lake, moved a canoe, with the speed of an arrow,—a blanket, spread out on either side, served for sails,—the wind was blowing fresh from the shore; not a paddle was seen, save one, which managed by a warrior at the stern, served the purpose of a rudder. It was filled with people. Rolfe and Earth turned to Oloompa, for the first glance had awakened their fears, and though the distance was so great they could see nothing distinctly, yet they felt as if she whom they sought was leaving them for ever. In Oloompa's countenance, they saw that their fears were too true,—his deep silence,—the fixed gaze with which he watched the canoe, and the dark shadows which passed over his face, spoke more plainly than words. After watching it for several minutes, he said:—“She is gone!—the fawn will be carried to the Prophet's camp, and Oloompa cannot help it.” “Oloompa, can we do nothing?” said Rolfe. “Nothing,” was the reply; and he again repeated, “She is gone!”