After that he came back to the little cove and luxuriated, as the others were doing.

It was the keenest sort of joy now just to rest, to lie at one's ease, and to feel the freedom from danger.

The old burying ground was a better guard about them than a thousand men.
But when night came, Henry and Ross took out the canoe again, and Paul asked to go with them.
"All right," said Henry, "you come with us, and Sol, you and Jim Hart can do the fishing and the quarreling, with nobody to bother you." "Jest my luck," said Shif'less Sol, "to be left on a desert island with an ornery cuss like Jim Hart." Henry, setting the paddle against the bank, gave the canoe a great shove, and it shot far out into the lake.

Paul looked back.

Already their island was the solid dark blot it had been the night before, while the waters moved darkly under a light, northern wind.
"Sit very quiet, Paul," said Henry.