At length as the sky was becoming gray in the east, they passed into the shadow of what was called the Standing Stone.

This was a peculiarly shaped stone-faced bluff, standing high over the river, and taking its name from Tarhe, or Standing Stone, chief of all the Hurons.
At the first sight of that well known landmark, which stood by the Wyandot village, there mingled with Isaac's despondency and resentment some other feeling that was akin to pleasure; with a quickening of the pulse came a confusion of expectancy and bitter memories as he thought of the dark eyed maiden from whom he had fled a year ago.
"Co-wee-Co-woe," called out one of the Indians in the bow of the canoe.

The signal was heard, for immediately an answering shout came from the shore.
When a few moments later the canoe grated softly on a pebbly beach.
Isaac saw, indistinctly in the morning mist, the faint outlines of tepees and wigwams, and he knew he was once more in the encampment of the Wyandots.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Late in the afternoon of that day Isaac was awakened from his heavy slumber and told that the chief had summoned him.

He got up from the buffalo robes upon which he had flung himself that morning, stretched his aching limbs, and walked to the door of the lodge.
The view before him was so familiar that it seemed as if he had suddenly come home after being absent a long time.

The last rays of the setting sun shone ruddy and bright over the top of the Standing Stone; they touched the scores of lodges and wigwams which dotted the little valley; they crimsoned the swift, narrow river, rushing noisily over its rocky bed.