A mile farther and Willet suggested that they get into the canoe and paddle with all their might.

The embarkation, a matter of delicacy and difficulty, was made with success, and then they used the paddles furiously.
The canoe, suddenly becoming a live thing, leaped forward in the water, and sped down the stream, as if it were the leader in a race.

Far behind them rose a sudden war cry, and the three laughed.
"I suppose they've discovered in some way that we've fled," said Robert.
"That is so," said Tayoga.
"And they'll come down the river as fast as they can," said Willet, "but they'll do no more business with us.

I don't want to brag, but you can't find three better paddlers in the wilderness than we are, and with a mile start we ought soon to leave behind any number of warriors who have to run through the woods and follow the windings of the stream." "They cannot catch us now," said Tayoga, "and I will tell them so." He uttered a war whoop so piercing and fierce that Robert was startled.
It cut the air like the slash of a sword, but it was a long cry, full of varied meaning.

It expressed satisfaction, triumph, a taunt for the foe, and then it died away in a sinister note like a threat for any who tried to follow.