All knew that sharp ears were listening in the flooded forest, and the splash of oars would bring the war canoes at once.

But they were determined that the fog which was such a help to their enemies should be an equal help to them also.
Slowly the heavy boat crept through the water.

Paul, at the tiller, steered with judgment and craft, and his was no light task.

Now and then low boughs were lapped in the water and bushes submerged to their tops grew in the way.

To become tangled in them might be fatal and to scrape against them would be a signal to their enemies, but Paul steered clear every time.
They had gone perhaps fifty yards when Henry gave a signal to stop and Jim and Tom rested on their oars.