The son pointed down-stream, and, dipping deep the paddle, the Huron sent the frail vessel forward at a velocity that was truly wonderful.

A half-mile at this rate, and a tributary of the creek--a brook, merely--was reached, up which the canoe shot with such speed, that a few minutes later it ran almost its entire length where the water was no more than an inch in depth.

Springing ashore, Niniotan darted off, closely followed by his father, until they reached a portion of the wood so dense that they paused.
"Here was left Fluellina," said the boy, looking around at Oonomoo.
The latter uttered his usual signal, a tremulous, thrilling whistle, similar to that by which he had made himself known to his child before, but he received no response.

Three times it was repeated with a considerable rest, when, like the faint echo far in the distance, came back the response.

The Huron was about to plunge into the thicket, when a sound caught his ear, and the next moment his wife was before him.