We have shown how a most trifling error in regard to the paddle placed the Huron on his guard.
It was perhaps a half-hour after Oonomoo had commenced his descent of the river, that the canoe, without any perceptible jar, slid an inch or two down the bank.

So quietly and cautiously was this effected, that, had the Shawnees been looking directly at it, their suspicion would not have been aroused.
Some ten or fifteen minutes later, the boat moved about the same distance further.

The expectant Shawnees, clutching their rifles, were listening anxiously for some sound that might indicate the approach of their foe, and paid little heed to the canoe itself.

Ever and anon, it retreated an inch or two down the bank in the same mysterious manner--going short distances and so very slowly that no one but a thoroughly suspicious Indian would have believed there was any human agency connected with it.
The canoe was fully an hour and a half in moving a single foot, during which time the Huron managed, by the most consummate skill, to sustain it in such a manner that the shrubbery and undergrowth around appeared to occupy relatively the same position that they did before it had been disturbed.

The river shore was only some twenty or thirty feet distant, and from where Oonomoo lay, the way was almost entirely clear to it, so that when he chose to make any sudden dash or movement, no hindering cause could possibly offer itself.
One of the Shawnees chanced to glance at the canoe.