Dunwody and Clayton were in the foremost boat and each pulled an oar.

The little flotilla crawled up-stream slowly, hugging the bank and keeping to the shadows.

At last they were opposite a low, willow-covered island, and within a narrow channel where the water, confined between two banks, flowed with swifter current.

At length, at Dunwody's quiet signal, all the boats paused, the crews holding fast to the overhanging branches of the trees on the main shore of the river.
"She's out there, just across yonder island," he whispered.

"I think I can see her stack now.