The red blue, and yellow beads on his dress of beautifully tanned deerskin flashed in the brilliant rays.

He was the great picture of fact, not of fancy, a human being animated by a living, dauntless soul.
He gave the paddle a single sweep and shot from the light into the shadow.

His canoe did not stop until it grazed the northern shore, where bushes and overhanging boughs made a deep shadow.

It would have taken a keen eye now to have seen either the canoe or its occupant, and Henry Ware paddled slowly and without noise in the darkest heart of the shadow.
The sunlight lingered a little longer in the center of the stream.

Then the red changed to pink.