THE FLIGHT OF THE TWO Tayoga, into whose hands Robert had entrusted himself with the uttermost faith, at last said stop, and drawing the paddles into the canoe they took long, deep breaths of relief.

Around them was a world of waters, silver under the moon and stars now piercing the dusk, and the Onondaga could see the vast star on which sat the mighty chieftain who had gone away four hundred years ago to eternal life.
"O Tododaho," he murmured, "thou hast guarded us well." "Where do you think we are, Tayoga ?" asked Robert.
"Perhaps twenty miles from land," replied the Onondaga, "and the farther the better." "True, Tayoga.

Never before did I see a big lake look so kindly.

If it didn't require so much effort I'd like to go to the very center of it and stay there for a week." "Even as it is, Dagaeoga, we will wait here a while and take the long rest we need." "And while we're doing nothing but swing in our great canoe, Tayoga, I want to thank you for all you've done for me.

I'd been a prisoner much longer than I wished." "It but repays my debt, Dagaeoga.