"Speed ye, Tandakora, speed ye! Speed ye, De Courcelles and De Jumonville of treacherous memory! If you don't hasten, the flying canoe will yet escape you! More power to your arms, O ye paddlers! Bend to your strokes! The canoe that you pursue is light and it is carried in the heart of the wind! You have no time to lose, white men and red, if you would reach the precious prize! The faster you go the better you will like it! And the better we will, too! On! swift canoes, on!" "The imagination of Dagaeoga has been kindled again," said Tayoga, "and the bird with a golden note has gone into his throat.

Now he can talk, and talk much, without ever feeling weariness--as is his custom." "At least I have something to talk about," laughed Robert.

"I was never before so glad to see the backs of anybody, as I am now to look at the backs of those Indians and Frenchmen." "We won't do anything to stop 'em," said the hunter.
From their hillock they saw the fleet sweep on at a great rate toward the south, while the fires in the north, no longer necessary to the Indian plan, began to die.

The red tint on the water then faded, and the surface of the lake became a solemn gray.
"It's well for us those fires sank," said the hunter, "because while Tandakora has gone on we can't live all the rest of our lives on this little island.

We've got to get to the mainland somehow without being seen." "And darkness is our best friend," said Robert.
"So it is, and in their pursuit of the canoe our foes are likely to relax their vigilance on this part of the lake.