As they approached, Robert saw that the hollow went far back into the stone, having in truth almost the aspects of a cave.

Beneath the mighty projection he saw also that the water was smooth, unlashed by the wind and outside the sweep of the current, and he felt immense relief when the canoe shot into its still depths and he was able to lay the paddle beside him.
"Back a little farther," said Tayoga, and he saw then, still by the flare of lightning, that the water ended against a low shelf at least six feet broad, upon which they stepped, lifting the canoe after them.
"It's all that you claimed for it, and more, Tayoga," said the hunter.
"I fancy a ship in a storm would be glad enough to find a refuge as good for it as this is for us." Tayoga smiled, and Robert knew that he felt deep satisfaction because he had brought them so well to port.

Looking about after they had lifted up the canoe, he saw that in truth nature had made a good harbor here for those who traveled on the river, its waters so far never having been parted by anything but a canoe.

The hollow went back thirty or forty feet with a sloping roof of stone, and from the ledge, whenever the lightning flashed, they saw the river flowing before them in a rushing torrent, but inside the hollow the waters were a still pool.
"Now the rain comes," said Tayoga.
Then they heard its sweep and roar and it arrived in such mighty volume that the surface of the river was beaten almost flat.

But in their snug and well-roofed harbor not a drop touched them.