Their lives depended upon the effect of a superstition.
The line of canoes lay like a great black arrow across the water.

They were so close together that to the watchers they seemed to blend and become continuous, and this arrow was headed straight toward the island.
Paul's heart went down with a thump, but a moment later a light leaped into his eyes.
"The line is turning!" he exclaimed.

"Look, Jim, look! They are afraid of the island!" "Yes," said Jim Hart, "I see! The ghosts are real, an' it's pow'ful lucky fur us that they are.

The Miamis dassent land!" It was true.

The black arrow suddenly shifted to the right, and the line of canoes drew into the open water, midway between the island and the eastern mainland.
"Lay close, Paul, lay close!" said Jim Hart.