These words were spoken in the Indian tongue, the accent as clear as that of those who addressed him. There was truth and sense in what Lena-Wingo said, for it was this very suspicion that the Indians were not doing as well as they should that led to the canoe being launched from the other side. "But they called to us that Lena-Wingo was on the river in a canoe," said one of the new-comers, sidling up toward the Mohawk, who was as cautiously sidling away from him. "They spoke the truth if they said the pale faces have gone off again. I am looking for them." "Why does Magawan look for them this way?" "To find them," was the quick response. "Are you searching for them?" "We have been sent out by Taunwaso, the great chief of the Oneidas, to find Lena-Wingo, the traitor, and the whites." "Why don't you find them, then? If they are not here they are somewhere else. Go there and find them." And, as if he were tired of the conversation, the Mohawk dipped his paddle lower than before, and deliberately paddled away from his questioners. The surliness of the repulse made it quite effective, and the four Iroquois sat for several minutes as if undecided what they ought to do after such an interview. Lena-Wingo knew that he was in great peril, for he believed from the first that the others were not satisfied with the appearance of things. He shaped his action on the supposition that they would speedily detect the trick and start in pursuit. He kept up the river until he had gone far enough to screen his movements, when he made a sharp bend in the course he was following, and headed for the bank on his right. There was another canoe that was also hunting for them, as will be remembered, and, in case these two should meet, the whole truth would become known at once. Lena-Wingo was not mistaken in his suspicion that he heard the two boats at the same time, showing that they were not only very near, but drawing nearer every minute. While the Mohawk was paddling in this fashion, striving to make his landing-place as far up stream as he could, he knew the two canoes had joined and that the hottest kind of a hunt was on foot. But there was not a great deal of water between him and the shore, and he quickly made it still less. "Raise head now--make no noise!" he said, as the water foamed again from the bow of the canoe. As the fugitives obeyed, they saw they were close to the bank, and the limbs of the overhanging trees were within their reach. Lena-Wingo kept along the shore for some distance further, when one turn of the paddle sent the canoe in so sharply against the bank that it stuck fast, and all were forced forward by the sudden stoppage. The Susquehanna was crossed at last. CHAPTER XVIII. THE SOUTHEASTERN SHORE.