The new island rose at last before them, larger than the others but like the rest covered throughout with heavy forest.
They were almost in its shelter, when a faint cry came from the lofty cliff on the west.

It was a low, whining sound, very distant, but singularly penetrating, a sinister note with which Robert was familiar, the Indian war whoop.

He recognized it, and understood its significance.

Warriors had seen the canoe and knew that it marked the flight of the three.
"What do you think we'd better do ?" he said.
"We'll stop for a moment or two at the island and take a look around us," replied Willet.
They moored the canoe, and waded to the shore.

Far behind them was the Indian fleet, about twenty canoes, coming in the formation of an arrow, while the bonfires on the cliffs towered toward the sky.