She must have looked like the spirit of primeval silence as she stood at such moments, lifting her shawl from her head to listen; then she went on.

She knew where a boat had by chance been left that day; it was a small rough boat, lying close under the roots of a pine tree, and tied to its trunk.
In this she bestowed her bundle, and untying the string, pushed from the shore.

She could hardly see the opposite side of the little Ahwewee in the darkness; she rowed at once into the midst of its rapid current; once there, she dipped her oars to steer rather than to propel.

She travelled swiftly with the black stream.
For half an hour or more she was only intent upon steering her boat.
Then, when she had come about three miles from the falls, she was in still water, and began rowing with all her strength to make the boat shoot forward as rapidly as before.
The water was as still now as if the river had widened and deepened into an inland sea; yet in the darkness to all appearance the river was as narrow, the outline of the trees on either side appearing black and high just within sight.

When the moon rose this mystery of nature was revealed, for the river was a lake, spreading far and wide on either side.