It is coming.

It is coming slowly and cautiously.

It is very near.

Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water ?" "I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird." "And THAT!" she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more.

"That sound--as if wood strikes on wood!" "The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird." She drew her hand away.
"Neekewa, listen to me," she importuned him in Cree.