Many of the braves were making wagers as to who would win, and there even were some hot words; but the men realized that this was to be a friendly challenge. Suddenly one of the braves realized that Black Rock was nowhere to be seen. This was unheard of the night before a great contest and they looked high and low but could find no trace of him. Finally one of the men thought to ask his wife who had been sitting quietly off to one side. “He has taken a walk before retiring. He said that he wished to be alone this night.” Black Rock was alone. He had walked to a small glen a short way from the camp, and there if one had come he would have seen a young warrior kneeling talking to someone although no other person could be seen. “O, Great Manitou, who guides the lives of all red men, give me strength tomorrow to wield a strong and sure paddle. Carry my canoe swiftly across the waters and on to victory. Not for the glory that it will bring me but to wipe from the heart of my friend Long Bow his feeling that he is above the other men of the tribe. If he can be made to see right again, as a good Ottawa brave should, this is all that I ask.” When he had finished Black Rock rose and returned to his home. The celebrating was still going on, but quietly Black Rock said good-night to his wife and wrapped himself in his blanket and was soon asleep. He had been troubled, but his walk and his prayer had eased his mind, for now he knew that it rested with the great spirits. The following day dawned bright and clear, and before the sun had risen very far in the heavens the lake shore was crowded with eager spectators waiting for the start of the race. The rules were outlined to the two warriors and then each took his position along the shore, standing in their respective canoes. About a mile down the shore of the lake a warrior stood with a gayly colored coup stick. This was the point which would indicate the finish line. The signal was given, and the two men bent to the task. The crowd cheered as the two canoes sped down the shore line, neither one getting far ahead before the other would pull alongside. As they neared the finish line, the watchers on the shore could see the muscles of the two men striving in their backs and shoulders. Finally the finish line was just a few yards away, and with a mighty surge, Black Rock drove his canoe across the finish line first. There was a mixed chorus of groans and cheers as the men returned to the starting point and beached their canoes. The crowd milled around Black Rock as he stepped ashore, but he raised his arms for silence. “Long Bow has lost the race this day, but let no man say that he is not a good man with the canoe; for there are none among us who to this day have been able to defeat him. I shake the hand of my brother Long Bow and to him I say, it was a great race and I have won, but it was a close race and if we raced again I might not be so lucky.”