Each had a feeling of perfect safety, for the time at least, and they let the boat drift northward under the gentle wind from the south that rippled the surface of the lake.
"Water and darkness," said Paul.

"They are our friends." "The best we could have," said Jim Hart.

"Are you rested now, Paul ?" "I'm fresh again." They resumed the paddles, and, curving about, came down on the western side of the lake until they were opposite the island.

Then they paddled straight for their home, and the word "home," in this case, had its full meaning for Paul.

It gave him a thrill of delight when the prow of the canoe struck upon the margin of the little island, and the gloom of the great trees was friendly and protecting.
"We must hide the canoe good," said Jim Hart.
They concealed it in a thick clump of bushes, and then Hart carefully readjusted the bushes so that no one would notice that they had ever been disturbed, and they took their way to the hut in the glen.