It had, by now, grown so dark that all they could see was a stretch of about thirty feet or so of surging water on either side of them. Ahead, a similar unending panorama opened up, and, had they chosen to turn their heads in order to cast a backward glance, they would have looked upon the same dismal spectacle. "There," said Sandy at last, "that job is done, and I'm ready to pull off my tunic, hunting shirt, and coonskin cap, which I'll make up into a bundle, and fasten with this last long thong. But, Bob, before we do that, and go overboard, it seems to me we ought to give a last shout for help. There is about one chance in a thousand that some person in a boat may hear us." "We'll take that chance, then, Sandy," echoed Bob. "So, ready now, and shout when I do, with all your might!" Again did their lusty young voices ring out over the flood. Once, twice, thrice they gave tongue, and then, pausing, listened to see if by chance there came any welcome reply. Immediately Sandy gave a low bubbling cry of satisfaction. "Did you hear that?" he demanded. "Some one certainly answered us; unless it was an echo from the hills away off yonder." "It was no echo, Sandy," replied Bob. "Shout again, and louder than before. There is hope of a rescue even now. That one chance looks better! Now, let go!" This time the answering hail seemed somewhat closer, as though they were sweeping down toward the spot where the unknown must be sitting in his boat, holding it to some degree against the rushing current. Sandy became wild with excitement. He had almost despaired of assistance coming to them before, and, now that this sudden chance loomed up, the horizon seemed to brighten visibly. "Oh! I can hear the sound of paddles, Bob!" he exclaimed. "Yes, that is what I was just listening to," answered the other, and Sandy was surprised to note a lack of the same enthusiasm about Bob that reigned in his own heart. "What ails you?" he demanded. "We are in a fair way of being taken safely ashore, and yet you do not seem to be happy. Is there anything wrong, do you think, about that answer to our shouts? Surely it could not be an echo, for by now we can make out the dip of paddles plainly. Tell me what worries you?" "That is just it," replied Bob, soberly; "the dip of the paddles, as you say, which tells us that others are on the flood as well as ourselves. But I have never heard a white man handle a paddle just like that, and there are many who have tried it all their lives." Sandy asked no more questions. Doubtless, if his face could have been seen just then, it would be found to have taken on a sudden pallor, as he muttered to himself the one significant word: "Indians!" FOOTNOTE: [5] See "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes." CHAPTER V FRIENDS IN TIME OF NEED THERE was really nothing that could be done.