They poked now and then in the water, amid the great mass of debris, and one stood on a log so near to the two lads that they could have reached out and touched his moccasined feet.

But their covert was too close to be suspected, and soon the man passed on.
Presently all of them were out of sight; but Henry, a true son of caution and the wilderness, would not yet let Paul stir.
"They will come back this way," he said.

"We risk nothing by waiting, and we may save much." Paul made no protest, but he was growing cold.

The chill from the water of the river was creeping into his veins, and he longed for the dry land and a chance to stir about.

Yet he clenched his teeth and resolved to endure.
He would not move until Henry gave the word.
He saw what a wise precaution it was, when, a half hour later, seven or eight warriors came walking back on the logs, and thrust with sticks into the little patches of open water between them.